Missy
Logan was waiting across the street when I left my final class.
I noticed him immediately.
Not because he looked like Logan Carter.
Because he had become familiar.
The dark coat. The cap pulled low. The way he stood slightly apart from everyone else while pretending to check his phone.
Students moved around him without paying attention. A few crossed the street toward the cafés near campus. Others gathered beside parked cars, discussing assignments and weekend plans.
Nobody looked twice at the famous athlete standing near the corner.
Logan lifted his head when he saw me.
He did not wave.
We had agreed that he would never approach the main university entrance. He would wait at a distance, and I would decide whether to join him.
The arrangement was supposed to make me feel i
