Ava's pov

The streets blurred past the window, but all I could focus on was the way Logan’s hand rested on my thigh. His thumb moved in slow, lazy circles over my jeans, making my skin tingle through the fabric.

He hadn't said much since we left the party, but he didn’t have to. The way his eyes turned toward me every few seconds, the way his jaw clenched whenever I shifted in my seat it was obvious he was holding something back.

And so was I.

When we finally pulled up to his place, ...