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Pocketful of Sunshine -Chapter 1 (Adrian Chase x Fem!Reader)

word count: 4.7k | ao3

from this lovely ask! thank you anon!

Tag list: @danversxwasabi @mellyhemps815 @mildestspice @emily-a13 @tostellify

(comment if you'd like to join - or for all fics here)

tags: fluff, short!reader, bubbly/yapper reader, eventual smut, workplace bullying, jealous! Adrian.

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Adrian had several managers come and go over the years at Fennel Fields. The rundown diner was a revolving door of chain-smoking, stressed, surly and seasoned hospitality workers.

His own chipper attitude and eccentricities always seemed to invite their wrath, reprimanded for talking too much on shift or god forbid, take his breaks he was legally entitled to! Especially with Dave, who was a total dickbag and unfortunately stayed on to make his life a living hell.

All in all, he never had a manager he’d remotely liked before.

That was, until you started.

Unexpected Connection - Logan Henderson

Chapter 6

Logan

The boys and I were still hanging around our table in the restaurant. The wine was almost finished, and the rest of the bottle stood like a weak memorial to the last few minutes we had spent together. The atmosphere was relaxed, the exchange between us just like it used to be – quick-witted and without inhibitions. But then, out of nowhere, I saw her.

Emma White.

Our eyes met almost simultaneously when I spotted her in the corner of the restaurant. For a moment, time seemed to stand still and the room became a bit narrower. She was standing there with a man at her side whom I didn't know. He was a little older but looked like the type who always said the right things and asked the right questions, while at the same time knowing how to elicit a smile that went to the core. I could see that he was trying to talk to her on some level, and her facial expressions told me that she didn't find the conversation particularly engaging.

The boys noticed Emma almost simultaneously. Kendall, who was always the first to notice a pretty woman, leaned over and let his eyes glide over her with a grin. "Isn't that Ms. White?" James said, having also spotted her. "Definitely," Carlos said, taking a sip of his wine. "Logan, how about it? You and Ms. White?" James laughed again. My look must have spoken volumes as I put my glass down again.

"Come on, Logan, don't be such a killjoy," Kendall said with a cheeky grin as he stared at me again, and let himself sink back in his chair as if he had already reached the goal. "You're the ultimate heartthrob. What's the problem?"

"Oh, please," I said, trying to play it down. I took another gulp from my glass, as if that would loosen the knot in my stomach. 'She's not my type."

"Not your type?' James laughed out loud. "Have you seen her? She's definitely your type, Logan. She's got not only the looks but also the aura that knocks you out. Come on, if not you, then who?"

"Yeah, exactly," Carlos agreed, 'you can't really act like you don't like women like her. She looks like... like the highlight of everything you've ever had!"

"What, you think, how it should go? Should I take her to my hotel room? In the hotel she manages?' I asked, shaking my head to calm myself.

"Why not?" Kendall grinned mischievously and nudged my arm lightly with his elbow. 'It would be a cool plot twist. The rebellious star and the strict hotel manager? Sounds like a damn good movie."

"Oh yeah, sure,' I said with a sarcastic undertone, putting my glass down a little harder than necessary on the table. "Except that real life isn't a movie. And to be honest, I really don't feel like getting involved in any drama."

"Logan, drama is your middle name," James interjected, laughing as he leaned back. "Come on, you're the guy who always makes the best entrance in the middle of the chaos. So why not here?"

I shook my head, trying to act relaxed, but inside I felt annoyed by the whole situation. Or maybe it was tempting. There was something about this woman that I couldn't get out of my mind – and that was exactly the problem.

"Guys, I told you, she's not my type," I insisted, folding my arms. "She's too... how should I put it... proper. The kind of woman who plays by the rules. I'm exactly the opposite. It would never work."

"Or maybe that's exactly why it would work," Carlos said dryly, pushing his empty glass across the table. 'Opposites attract. You would rub against each other all the time – in the best sense of the word."

"Carlos, seriously?' I shot him a annoyed look. But before I could protest any further, everyone suddenly fell silent. Their eyes wandered over my shoulder, and I knew immediately that something was going on.

"There she is," Kendall said quietly, and his voice had that tone that always meant he was expecting something exciting.

I turned around slowly, and there she was – Emma White, walking towards the exit with her companion. She moved with a natural elegance that seemed to come to her effortlessly. The smile she gave her companion looked friendly and very familiar.

But then it happened. Just as she passed our table, James broke the silence.

"Good evening, Ms. White," he said with a broad grin that seemed as charming as it was exaggerated. "How nice to see you here. May I say that you look absolutely stunning tonight?"

Emma stopped abruptly. Her eyes flicked to James, then to me. For a moment, she seemed surprised to see us, but then her professional mask returned. "Mr. Maslow, how charming," she replied politely, but her eyes had a sharp look that clearly said she wasn't in the mood for small talk.

"And Mr. Henderson," she added, her voice becoming a bit colder. 'I hope you like your new room."

"Yes,' I said, trying to sound as calm as possible. 'It meets my standards.'

What was that question about again?

The guy standing next to her looked back and forth between me and Emma with obvious interest. "Oh, do you know these guys?" he asked curiously, with a mischievous grin crossing his face. 'Vaguely,' Emma replied curtly and turned her gaze back to me. 'And to be honest, that was quite enough."

"Oh come on, Ms. White,' James said, leaning forward a little. "Such a nice evening – you must have a sense of humor. Please join us."

What the hell are you doing, James?

"Thank you for the offer," she said with a calm but firm tone, 'but I have a clear rule: work and private life remain separate.'

Her gaze slid briefly across the table and her green eyes tried to read my expression. Then she turned her gaze directly to James, without showing the slightest hint of uncertainty.

"Besides, I believe that you and your colleagues can enjoy the evening just as much without me. After all, you already seem to be having a great time."

The silence after her answer was hard to miss. Even James, who usually had a quick-witted reply at the ready, was speechless for a moment. I watched her – the way she presented herself with an iron posture, her clear demarcation with a politeness that was nevertheless unmistakable.

And I hated it, but something about it fascinated me.

"Touché," James finally murmured, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "A woman who knows what she wants – or rather, what she doesn't want."

The boys chuckled softly, but I said nothing. Instead, I leaned back in my chair and took a closer look at her.

"Separating work and private life, huh?" I finally said, my voice calm but with a hint of curiosity. 'That sounds... practical. But it also takes a bit of the spice out of life, doesn't it?'

Her gaze was as sharp as a dagger, but I held my ground.

"Or maybe," I added, shrugging my shoulders slightly, 'it's just an excuse not to take risks?'

The guy next to her took a small step to the side, obviously careful not to get between us, while Emma raised her eyebrows and gave me a piercing look.

"Some of us," she said coolly, 'have learned that it's wiser to calculate risks than to jump blindly into the unknown.'

I bit my tongue to stop myself from grinning. "Calculated risks. Sounds... safe. And boring."

Her lips twitched as if she had something sharp on her tongue, but she stopped. She just nodded briefly, then turned away. "Have a nice evening, gentlemen."

While she walked with the guy at her side, I felt the stares of the guys on me.

"Dude," Carlos murmured finally, 'she just blew you off.'

"Oh, he deserved it," Kendall added with a grin. "But, you know, Logan... somehow I think you like it that way." I snorted softly and reached for my glass to take a deep swig. "Bullshit," I murmured, but inside I knew they were right.

Emma White – the woman who kept her work and private life so strictly separate – had just secured a place in my head again. And that annoyed me more than I wanted to admit.

Emma

As soon as we stepped through the heavy glass door of the restaurant and into the cool night air, the storm that I had suppressed throughout the conversation erupted.

"Un-be-liev-able!" I threw my hands in the air and turned to Eliot, who had been walking calmly beside me as if he hadn't witnessed the last ten minutes. 'Did you see that? Hear that? The arrogance, the nerve!'

Eliot just raised an eyebrow and pressed the key of his car, which then unlocked with a soft beep.

"I mean, who does this Logan guy think he is? Just implying that I'm boring because I take my work seriously? Because I set professional boundaries?" I got into the car and slammed the door behind me. "These guys... they live completely in their own world! It's all about them, isn't it? Because they have a few fans and a bit of fame, they think they can get away with anything!"

Eliot sank into the driver's seat, buckled his seat belt slowly, and gave me a quick glance. His face was impassive as usual, but I saw the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Do you really want to continue with this monologue, or should I just drive you home so you can yell at your pillow?" he asked dryly and started the engine.

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared out the window. "You could be on my side for a change."

"I'm always on your side, Emma." He turned onto the road and gave me a quick glance. "But I'm also in favor of you taking a deep breath before you work yourself up into a complete hysteria."

"Hysteria?" I spat and turned to him. 'This is not hysteria, this is justified outrage!'

"Is it?" Eliot snorted softly and continued undeterred. "Let's be honest, Em. This Logan has pushed your buttons a bit, sure. But have you ever considered that he might be right?"

"What?" I stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

"I'm not saying he's completely right," Eliot added before I could explode. "But maybe the problem isn't that he's arrogant. Maybe the problem is that he's playing at your level. And you're not used to that."

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words stuck in my throat.

"Think about it," Eliot continued without looking at me. "Most people give you a wide berth because you're so sharp-tongued. But Logan? He fired right back. And instead of being impressed by that, you went on the defensive."

"That's absurd," I murmured, but my voice didn't sound as convinced as I'd hoped.

"Is it?" Eliot parked the car in front of my apartment building and finally turned to me. "Emma, the guy provoked you because he knows you're capable of more. And frankly, I think he could use a little of your fire."

I stared at him, my heart beating faster than I wanted it to. But I knew that Eliot always told me the unvarnished truth – and that drove me crazy.

"All right," I finally murmured, unbuckling my seat belt. "But just to be clear – that doesn't mean I like him."

Eliot grinned broadly. "Of course not. But maybe you should still think about what happens when you meet someone who is as stubborn as you are."

I got out of the car, my head full of conflicting thoughts, and gave Eliot a last glance.

"Good night, Eliot."

"Good night, Emma." He leaned back, still grinning, as if he knew that the discussion in my head was far from over. As soon as I got out of the car, I wanted to slam the door loudly, but I didn't.

Even as I stepped into the stairwell and went up the first few steps, I couldn't shake his words. This Logan plays at your level. What nonsense. Eliot had no idea what he was talking about.

Or did he?

I shook my head and opened the door to my apartment.

No, Emma. This is absolutely ridiculous. This Logan Henderson is a spoiled, conceited loudmouth. Nothing more.

I kicked off my shoes and threw my bag on the nearest chair.

Still, there was this nagging feeling in my gut. Why had he managed to get under my skin so easily? Nobody usually provoked me that quickly. I was good at staying professional, no matter how annoying my counterpart was. But this guy...

"Argh!" I ran my fingers through my hair and collapsed on the couch. Eliot was wrong. Definitely. Logan was not on my level – he was just a damn expert at getting under my skin.

But why couldn't I get that stupid grin off my mind?

I pulled a pillow onto my lap and hugged it tightly. The evening had started out so calm and orderly, and now I sat here, unable to get the thought of a singer I had only known for a few hours out of my head.

And then those words from Eliot: "Maybe the problem isn't that he's arrogant. Maybe the problem is that he's playing at your level."

"Bullshit," I murmured loudly and threw the pillow away. But even as I said it, I knew that a part of me was not satisfied with it. It was as if Logan had awakened something in me with his provocative manner that I couldn't even name.

I jumped up and paced the apartment, but the feeling remained. A constant tug between anger and... curiosity? No, certainly not.

But when I finally went to bed, determined to banish this man and everything he had said from my mind, I couldn't sleep. His words, his gaze, that mocking smile – they were all still there, as if I had burned them into my memory.

And that was what really upset me.

———

The suite room was bathed in a golden light, the long shadows on the walls seemed to move as if the room were alive. Everything seemed surreal, almost as if I had left reality behind me. But it wasn't the hallway that made the air so heavy – it was him.

He stood before me, casual, as if he owned the world, his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, which fit him far too well.His mocking grin seemed to bore into my innermost being, and I felt my jaw tighten.

"What a coincidence, running into you here," he said, his voice a soft contrast to his cutting words. "Or are you here to watch over me? I knew you were a control freak, but this is impressive."

"Monitor?" I folded my arms across my chest, forcing myself to ignore the heat rising in my cheeks. "Don't worry, Logan. I have better things to do than deal with you."

"Oh, really?" He took a step closer, and suddenly the hallway felt a lot smaller. "You know, Emma, for someone who supposedly doesn't care about me, you're around me an awful lot."

I felt my fingernails dig into the palms of my hands. "Maybe because I'm constantly busy repairing the damage you and your chaos leave behind."

"Chaos?" He raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, but his gaze was full of challenge. "You mean the little life I bring into this? If I'm honest, it looks like you could use it."

"Life? Or ego show?" I countered, taking a step forward and glaring at him. "You're so in love with yourself, it almost hurts to watch you."

He laughed softly, a deep, vibrating sound that went through my nerves like an electric shock. "And yet here you are, Emma. Right in front of me. Why don't you just leave?"

"Because..." I faltered, searching for a quick-witted answer, but his gaze held me captive, as if he had seen right through me.

"Because you can't," he said softly, his voice like a whisper that passed right by my mind and struck me somewhere deeper.

"You're so arrogant," I hissed, but my voice sounded less convincing than I wanted.

"And you're so damn controlled," he shot back, stepping even closer until only a breath was between us. "Maybe you should let go, Emma. You have no idea how much you need this."

"Let go?" I laughed, but the laughter sounded hollow, almost desperate. "And what? Give you control? So you can win your little game?"

"This isn't a game," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "You feel it just like I do. The only question is how long you're going to keep denying it."

"You're not my type," I murmured, but even I could hear how weak the words sounded.

"And you're definitely not my type," he shot back, his eyes on my lips as if he couldn't help it. "Maybe that's exactly the point."

"This is wrong." I shook my head, trying to ignore the rising heat inside me.

"Only people who are afraid say that," he murmured, before placing a hand on the wall next to my head and leaning in even closer. "Tell me, Emma. Are you afraid?"

"Afraid of you?" I snorted, trying to catch myself. "Dream on."

"Maybe I am." His breath brushed my skin, and I felt my façade begin to crumble. "Or maybe this is the moment when you finally stop deluding yourself."

Before I could answer, before I could regain control, he tilted his head and kissed me – a wild, demanding kiss that swept all my principles out of the way like a blow.

It wasn't gentle, not hesitant. It was hot, almost angry, a struggle between two people who couldn't stand each other but couldn't get away from each other. I wanted to push him away, to hate him for knowing exactly how much he upset me. But my hands clung to his shoulders as if he were the only constant in a chaos I didn't understand.

"See?" he murmured hoarsely against my lips. 'Not so different after all.'

Just as I was about to forget the world around me, when I was ready to give myself over completely to the moment, I felt everything around me begin to flicker.

I opened my eyes and found myself in my dark bedroom, bathed in sweat and with my heart pounding wildly.

My breathing was labored, and it took me several seconds to realize that I had only dreamed it. "What the hell..." I whispered, running a trembling hand through my hair. But no matter how hard I tried to suppress the dream – his gaze, his touch, his grin were still like a fire that refused to go out.

#fanfiction #wattpad #big time rush #carlos penavega #kendall schmidt #love #btr #enemies to lovers #james maslow #book review #logan henderson #writers on tumblr #new york #unexpected #connection #btr fanfic #new york city #nyc

Unexpected Connection - Logan Henderson

Chapter 5

Logan

The restaurant was casual and relaxed, the soft lighting casting soft shadows across the table, the wine in our glasses a deep red, reflecting in the candlelight. We sat together, the boys and I, as if nothing had ever happened, as if we had never stopped on this crazy journey. And somehow it was. We had been through a lot in the last few years, but now it was that familiar, exuberant mood that had always connected us – just like in the old days.

"I swear, the best days were always when we were just hanging out together," Kendall said and downed the rest of his red wine in one gulp. 'Do you remember when we hid the cameras and Logan was convinced the crew would never find them?"

I laughed and raised my hands. 'Hey, I really thought that was genius. Those things were tiny – at least for the first twenty minutes."

Carlos shook his head and started snickering. "Logan, you ruined the entire shooting schedule with that stunt! I remember how the director almost had a nervous breakdown. In the end, we had to apologize collectively to the whole crew – and all because you absolutely wanted to play hide and seek!"

"Oh, come on, you were all in on it," I defended myself and clinked my beer with Carlos. 'We all survived it and kept our jobs, didn't we?"

"Yeah, because Carlos went down on his knees to the producers like a madman,' James interjected, pulling a grimace. "That was, I think, the moment when I first considered just punching you in the face, Logan!" James added with a laugh.

"I just made sure that we all continued to get work and didn't sabotage ourselves right from day one," Carlos countered with mock outrage, but couldn't stop laughing. "But Logan, with you it often felt like you saw yourself less as an actor and more as a chaotic ringmaster on set."

Kendall laughed and raised her glass to Carlos. "Honestly, Logan, you were the king of chaos. Script? Pff, what for? Stunts? Let's do something more dangerous! Crew mad? No problem, see you tomorrow! You kept everyone on their toes with your ideas."

"A little creativity never hurt anyone," I said innocently and shrugged.

"Creativity? Logan, sometimes what we allowed ourselves was borderline," Carlos shook his head and grinned. "And then I always had to pretend that I was the responsible one in the group."

"Yes, exactly!" James snorted. "Carlos, you never slowed us down! At most, you pretended to slow us down, just to kick ass at every after-party yourself."

Carlos rolled his eyes, but grinned crookedly. "Come on, I had to make sure that none of you did any nonsense on your own. If we're going to spread chaos, then at least do it together – team spirit and all that."

We all burst out laughing, the confusion of our voices blending perfectly at that moment and taking us back to the old, wild days for a brief instant. "All right, okay, we definitely overdid a few jokes," Carlos admitted, "but it was the best time, right?"

"Absolutely," Kendall said, raising his glass. 'Sometimes when I think back, I feel like we produced more chaos than content."

"That was our secret!' James interjected. "The show was really just an excuse to wallow in chaos 24/7."

We all laughed and clinked our glasses again before I took a deeper sip from my glass. I could feel how much we had all enjoyed that time that evening. And yet I knew that we would also get lost in conversations in which we would tease each other.

"Speaking of..." Carlos said, putting down his glass and looking at me with a curious look. 'Did you notice that Lydia wasn't in a good mood when we left?"

"Yeah, I noticed that too,' Kendall said, who had apparently picked up on the situation in the same way. "She was really tense when we said goodbye. What was going on?"

I sighed and leaned back, looking thoughtfully into my glass. I knew that the moment would come eventually, that they would bring it up.

"Hm... I guess it could be me," I finally said, shrugging. "I had a little run-in with the hotel manager today – Emma White. She was pretty... well, direct."

"Direct?" Kendall repeated, and I could already see the sharp grin on his face. 'I don't think that's enough to piss her off that much. What did you do, Logan?"

"I complained a little bit about my room. She wasn't too thrilled about it,' I said, trying to make it sound casual. But I knew that no matter how serious the situation was, it would always make the guys smirk.

"The hotel manager stood up to you, Logan?" Carlos' voice sounded almost too surprised to be true. "That's almost... an enlightening moment."

"Do you feel like you've finally found a woman who can really stand up to you?" James asked with a broad grin that almost made him look a bit too mischievous. "That must be it! It sounds like she's the first person who really knows how to put you in your place."

"What?" I said, trying to play it down. But it was too late, the damage was already done. The guys looked at me like they'd found the holy grail.

"Oh man, you really need to explain what happened," said Kendall, sitting down a little further. "You can't just say that a hotel manager gave you an announcement and then act like it's nothing. You somehow managed to always show us a little bit that you were the big guy. But here... she probably stole your show."

"Great, now you're telling me about the woman who stands up to me,» I said, leaning back in my chair to appear more relaxed. "She just gave me a little... advice on how to do things right here at the hotel. End of story.»

"Oh, Logan, you're amazing,» James laughed. "You never really realized that not everyone is impressed by you, did you?"

"Oh, give me a break," I mumbled while the guys laughed. 'It really wasn't that big of a deal."

"I don't know, Logan,' Carlos said, grinning from ear to ear. "It almost sounds like she threw a wrench in your plans a little bit. And now you're here trying to tell us she didn't teach you a lesson?"

"Guys, seriously, stop. She didn't teach me anything," I said, even though I knew that was exactly what they were doing. "It was just a... little discussion. But if you all enjoy it so much, then enjoy it."

"Do you know what this means, Logan?" Kendall said, winking at me. "It just means we found a woman who matches your level of skill. Now you have to ask yourself if you're ready to finally look at yourself in the mirror."

I rolled my eyes and tried not to get too involved in the conversation. But inside, I knew that they had hit the nail on the head. Emma White was definitely not the kind of woman you could easily overlook. And something about the way she had stood up to me didn't let go of me as quickly as I would have liked.

Emma

As we entered the Italian restaurant, I immediately felt the tension of the working day melt away. The familiar warmth, the smile of the waiter who greeted us – all of this made me feel at home. It was the perfect place to clear my mind, and to be honest, I couldn't wait to relax with Eliot.

There was a pleasant lightness to the evening. Eliot and I sat at our table, surrounded by the familiar scent of Italian food—fresh tomatoes, garlic, and basil wafting through the air. The wine was good, and we talked about old times. About my childhood, the chaotic days with my parents, and our little quirks that always made us laugh.

Eliot took another sip of wine, swirled the glass, and then looked at me with a mischievous grin. "Remember when I wrecked Dad's car?"

I felt my face change instantly as the memory came back. "Oh God, stop it, please. You mean the car that you treated like a race car when you were 17?" I asked, with a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

"Yes, that's the one!" he laughed, leaning back.

"And do you remember how you took all the blame even though it was really my fault?" Eliot grinned when he saw the look on my face, which immediately darkened.

I let out an annoyed sigh and looked at him. "I can't believe you're bringing that up now," I said, taking another sip from my glass to organize my thoughts. "And I was still so stupid and took the school on myself. I got three months of house arrest and a cell phone ban because of you!" 'Hey, who was your slave for half a year and did everything for you?' Eliot defended himself, raising his hands in supplication.

"That's right!" I laughed. "And it was the best six months of my life. You really took care of me."

We laughed some more, as we always had. It was one of those intimate, relaxed evenings that you rarely get – and even more rarely enjoy when you're always in the hustle and bustle of life.

After a while, the conversation became a bit more casual, and Eliot, never at a loss for a joke, brought up the topic of something that visibly threw me off track.

"By the way," he said suddenly, glancing at the restaurant, 'when are you finally going on a date again?"

"Eliot,' I said with a sharp look. 'Not now."

"Come on,' he grinned. "You know I always keep an eye out for possible candidates for you. Look at the guys here – there's bound to be someone here who meets your standards."

"What do you mean by 'my level'?" I raised an eyebrow and took a swig of wine. 'You're not serious, are you?"

"Yes, sure,' he said with a smile that I recognized immediately. He pointed with a finger in the direction of the table directly behind me. "There, for example..."

I turned to the first man he pointed to. A guy in a dark blue suit who seemed a bit too perfect to me. The way he adjusted his glasses had something of a law clerk who had just made it out of college.

"Oh yes, sure," I said dryly, 'he's a bit too businesslike for me. And do you know that I don't feel like talking to someone who's always talking about stocks and taxes?' I then turned back and tapped my glass. 'Not for me."

Eliot laughed. 'You're impossible. But okay, we'll keep looking."

He pointed to a second guy sitting by the window, sipping an espresso. "You might like this one. He looks like an artist, a bit mysterious, don't you think?"

I had to admit, the guy had this mystical aura – he was short, wearing a striking leather jacket and a strange cap. The look in his eyes seemed to come from a completely different world.

"It's really not my style, Eliot. He looks like he talks about artistic topics all day while smoking expensive cigarettes. No, thanks," I said with a wry smile.

"Really? He has exactly the right flair for you," he just said and kept laughing. "Okay, okay, but you won't be able to deny that there is a lot more choice here."

As he said this, I realized that he had let his gaze wander through the restaurant again, and then he pointed to another table, this time in the corner of the room. I turned slowly and looked where he was pointing without really thinking.

And then my heart stopped for a moment.

"What?" I said in a whispering tone and almost dropped the wine when I saw him.

"Over there. The one in the middle. What do you think of him?" Eliot grinned as he pointed at the table.

I just stared – there sat Logan. My heart skipped a beat, and suddenly the room was a bit too loud, the atmosphere much too dense. Logan, together with his band colleagues.

I could have recognized him anywhere, but it felt completely different to see him now. He was sitting there, smiling and with a glass of red wine in front of him, his bandmates next to him, laughing, enjoying themselves. But he – he looked like he recognized me right now, just as I recognized him. And that's exactly what I didn't want.

"Oh God," I murmured. "He's here."

"Who? The guy with the band?" Eliot asked, apparently unaware of what was going on inside of me.

"Yes," I said, forcing myself to remain calm. But inside, it felt like my heart was racing through my chest. "He's the... the guy I told you about."

"Ah, you mean Logan Henderson?" Eliot grinned even wider. "Oh, that's interesting. And what are you doing now?"

I ignored him. My eyes were fixed on Logan, who now seemed to be looking at me too. In that moment, I knew that there were no more ways out.

Unexpected Connection - Logan Henderson

Chapter 4

Emma

Writing the report was torture. It felt like I lost a bit of my composure with every sentence. I had to keep stopping, resting my fingers over the keyboard and collecting myself. My mind was full of thoughts – of that damned Logan Henderson, who had taken up residence in my head like a cancer.

"On 09/09/2023 at 2:30 p.m., Mr. Logan Henderson..." – There it was again. His name, which annoyed me, which stirred me up. Why couldn't he just stay in his damn hotel room and act like a normal guest? Why did he always have to make drama?

I tried to concentrate and find the right words. But every time I tried to write the report, images of him popped into my head: how he had gotten upset, how he had looked at me with that arrogant look that I found so repulsive. That damn arrogance.

I deleted the lines again and then stared at the blank screen.

Why the hell should I get annoyed at a guest who does nothing but complain about his hotel room? It's my damn job, pull yourself together Emma!

With a deep sigh, I grabbed the empty document and just let out everything that was on my mind – this time not factually, but in a document for my own eyes only. I knew I would never show it to anyone.

I just had to get it out of my system.

"That damn Henderson. What an arrogant bastard. Does he think he's better than everyone just because he's in a boy band?"

I typed it without hesitation as my head boiled. "What an arrogant idiot. Who does that jerk think he is? Arrogant jerk. He also thinks I'm going to kiss his ass. And if he talks to my team like that again, he can find another hotel! I'm the one in charge here! Not him."

When I was finished, I took a deep breath and read the lines. It felt better to get the words out, even if they were just for me. I closed the document and tried to switch back to "report mode".

It took a while, but in the end I was able to complete the report. I checked every line again, made sure that no emotions came through, and sent it off. It was factual, but the anger I still felt was hard to ignore.

But I knew: this was my job. Stay professional.

The rest of the day dragged on in slow motion. It was hard to concentrate on the small tasks at hand, but I forced myself to remain calm and focused. And by the end of the day, I had actually managed to banish the thought of Logan Henderson from my mind.

It was time to clear my head. As always. And that meant heading to Eliot's. After our parents died, my brother had become more than just a family member to me – he was my ally, my escape from the dark thoughts and hustle and bustle of life.

So I grabbed my jacket, quickly got a coffee, and headed to Wall Street. Traffic was a nightmare as usual, but I knew I'd be with Eliot soon. It wasn't just a meeting to chat. It was my chance to really vent about everything that's been building up in my head.

I got in the cab and let it drive me to the financial district, my phone in hand. As I leaned back, I decided to listen to a podcast. One that would help me to distract myself. Maybe something light, nothing that reminded me of all the stuff with Logan Henderson. But as the host introduced himself, I already heard the familiar sound of the voice I didn't really want to hear anymore.

"Welcome back to The Sound of the City with my favorite host Brian. Today we have very special guests! And today we're going to talk about the comeback of Big Time Rush!"

I sighed inwardly. Of course. How could it have been any different? A damn podcast about that boy band and today of all days. But instead of putting the phone away, I let it continue out of habit. Let's see how wrong Logan Henderson sounds.But the moment the boys started talking, it was like a punch.

I realized how my revulsion was growing as I continued to listen to the podcast. I wanted to skip the episode already – but I couldn't. Something inside me held me back, as if I had an invisible tether around my interest that I couldn't shake. And when the host asked a new question, I knew I had to stay with it.

"Alright guys," Brian said with a smile that I could feel even through the podcast. "Let's play a little game. A quick question that you have to answer honestly. It's about which of you is most likely to... Okay first question... which of you would be most likely to pick up a woman at the club?"

I rolled my eyes. Oh no, now comes all the crap I have to endure.

But to my surprise, the guys' reaction was far less offensive than I had feared. They started laughing as if it were a harmless game.

"Oh, that's for sure," said one of them, and I think that must be Kendall. "Probably Logan. The guy has this charm that just never fails. And he's really good at flirting. I mean, what woman would say no to that face?"

"Yes, Logan is really the one who manages it without anyone knowing how he does it," James agreed with a broad grin. "He can wrap people around his little finger so that they don't even realize he's holding them."

"I'm just a good conversationalist," Logan said, speaking for himself, his voice sparkling with charm. 'I listen, and if you're a good listener, all the other stuff is secondary."

Kendall agreed, always the practical one: 'Yeah, exactly, Logan can flirt without making it look like flirting. That's what makes him dangerous."

I couldn't help shaking my head. There it is again, that arrogant behavior. I had never understood how someone could exert such influence over others. But maybe that was just the trick – he managed to make it look like the easiest thing in the world.

The host laughed as if he had expected such an answer and then asked another question. "If you were to share a secret with each other, who would be the one you would most likely trust?"

"Definitely Carlos," Kendall said without hesitation. "He always has the best advice and really listens. But honestly, the guy can also pull off a lot without anyone noticing."

"That's right," James said with a wink. "Carlos is a bit of a quiet guy, but when he speaks, we all listen. I think he's best at understanding things without saying them out loud."

"Yeah, he kind of has that quiet presence," Logan added. "He knows how to read a situation."

That must have been the smaller guy with the blond hair.

I had to admit that their dynamic had a certain fascination. It was almost as if they had all practiced this kind of game themselves over the years. They knew what they were doing, and they did it well.

The host laughed again and then came to a more pointed question. "Okay, guys, now something serious. In the last few years, you've built up a reputation as Big Time Rush. But it's also no secret that Logan here is the typical heartthrob, right? Is there a story or experience you want to share about that?"

I could hear the grin in Logan's voice as he answered: "Oh, that's a good point. But I don't think of myself that way. Sure, I get attention – that's just part of the job. But there's a lot more to it than that. It's not just about looks. I mean, I know what I'm doing, but in the end it's the connections you make that count. I can't flirt with everyone and expect anything to come of it."

He laughed as if he was flirting and patting himself on the back at the same time, but in a way that didn't feel inappropriate. It was almost charming.

"So, yeah," he added, "maybe I am a heartthrob, but I've also learned how to really listen. And that has helped me more than I ever would have thought."

I had to suppress a sigh. He actually sounds... nice. But that charm, that self-confidence – was that really all that made him tick? And why did it seem as if he was constantly patting himself on the back, as if he were the only one who mattered?

"I find it interesting," the host said as he processed Logan's answer. "Your band has really changed. You've grown older, and yet you're still those guys who had their own TV show. But it's become something different, isn't it? You're no longer just the teen idols of yesteryear, but real musicians. How does that feel?"

James chimed in with a pensive tone, "It feels right. The Nickelodeon days were great, no question, but we're not those kids anymore. This new music is something that's really coming from us. It reflects not only our growth as a band, but as people. We've matured."

"Yeah, that's right," Kendall added. "The show was cool and the fans were great, but the music is more than just a job for us now. It's a way for us to express ourselves and tell our own stories."

I had to admit that I had a little more respect for the guys here. They seemed to have grown, and they knew that their career wasn't just about shows and promotion. They were talking about real music, about the meaning behind it. This James and Kendall seemed even very likeable. But deep inside me, I knew that I still couldn't really stand Logan.

Still – there was something about him that captivated me.

And so I kept listening, even though I knew it was probably not the last time I'd get stuck with this guy.

———

When I opened the office door to Eliot's workplace, he greeted me with a broad grin that immediately lifted my spirits. "Emma!" he said, standing up from his desk and pulling me into a firm embrace. "I knew you wouldn't be able to hide from me today."

I laughed and returned the hug. "What a welcome," I replied. "Have you been wreaking havoc on the stock market again today?"

Eliot grinned and shook his head. "It's more like the stock market wreaked havoc on us, a lot of things didn't go as planned today. Our new manager screwed up a lot today and now has to answer for it," said my brother, already taking off his tie. I had to smirk. "Well, maybe I should start here and prove my leadership skills." My brother was packing his bag. 'If it were up to me, I would set you up with an office here, but you're much too good at management to share the daily office life with us 'normal people'."

I rolled my eyes. 'I'm glad you see it that way too,' I said dryly.

At that moment, a young colleague of Eliot's approached, a good-looking man in a tailored suit who immediately caught my attention – at least until he walked straight up to me.

"Emma, this is Noah, he just started last week," Eliot introduced, "Noah, this is my sister Emma. She's the real head of the family, so you better watch what you say." He grinned, and I knew he had been telling that particular joke since we were kids.

Noah held out his hand and gave me a charming smile that seemed almost a little too smooth. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Emma," he said in a deep, sweet tone that was unmistakably meant as a compliment. "I've heard a lot about your brother."

I took his hand, feeling a little uncomfortable, even though I didn't let it show. "The pleasure is all mine," I said, returning his smile with a polite but not too enthusiastic smile. "Eliot only talks about his little sister."

Noah's smile grew wider, and he pointed in the direction behind him. "Would you like to get a coffee together? I'm new in New York and prefer to be shown the city by locals, especially if they're as charming as Eliot's sister."

This Noah seems to get straight to the point.

"Thanks, but I still have to talk to my brother," I said politely but firmly, maintaining eye contact. It wasn't that I was being rude, but I knew exactly how to deal with such a charming but intrusive smile. And I wasn't here to attract the attention of any of my brother's colleagues.

Noah just nodded as if he wasn't surprised. "Of course, maybe some other time. You're probably busy," he said, giving me a last glance before walking away from us.

I took a deep breath as Noah walked away from us and took a moment to turn back to my brother. Eliot, who had watched this with a mischievous grin, gave me a roguish look. "Did you feel comfortable?"

"Completely in my element," I replied sarcastically, although of course it wasn't the case. "But don't worry, you're doing well. You don't have to face such attentions all the time."

He laughed. "Ah, the familiar Emma humor. Come on, let's get out of here," said Eliot, who was already getting ready to put on his jacket. "There's nothing better than clearing your mind with a good coffee after a long day." "Or brunch taco?" I asked, my eyes widening. "Or both." He said, putting his arm around my shoulder.

I followed him out through the office corridors and into the cool air of lower Manhattan. "I really couldn't believe what happened at my hotel today," I broke the silence and gave my disappointment free rein.

"Oh no, that doesn't sound like you," Eliot said with an amused look as we stepped onto the sidewalk. I could hear his amusement in his voice, but that was okay. If anyone could understand my anger at work, it was him.

"Seriously, Eliot, it's insane," I continued when we arrived at our favorite coffee stand where I got my favorite brunch tacos. We took our order and headed to Ground Zero.

"I ran into that arrogant guy, Logan Henderson, again today, and it's just not going into my head. The guy treats my team like dirt! And then there's this... his attitude, as if he has the right to dominate everything. It drives me crazy!"

Eliot laughed, but it was a warm, understanding laugh. "Oh come on Em, you deal with special cases at work all the time. Put him in his place."

"Yeah, I do," I said a little more sharply when I realized how much the conversation was bothering me. 'But it's just so unbelievable how brazen he can be. And then there's always that smirk on his face, as if he thinks he's the center of the universe."

Eliot raised his eyebrows. 'Do you feel like he's a bit too... self-involved?"

I nodded vigorously, and we turned the corner where we had a view of the Ground Zero Memorial. "He's more than just self-absorbed, Eliot. It's like he's selling himself out of that perfect mask all the time. But I know exactly what's behind that facade. And it's not something I can brush off with a smile. It's disrespectful."

Eliot just grinned and let me keep talking without interrupting me. "It sounds like you're really pissed off."

"Well, what do you think?" I shot him a dirty look as we continued towards Ground Zero. "He really thinks he can get away with anything. It really gets on my nerves that he just doesn't understand that this isn't his playground. I know I'm supposed to be professional, but I can't take it!"

"Come on, Em," he said, laughing. "You're just like always. When you get upset, it's always a show. And Logan Henderson seems to be the perfect catalyst for that, doesn't he?"

"Shut up, Eliot," I growled, but even though I was upset, I realized that a part of me could embrace it with a certain amusement. My brother knew how to make me laugh, even if he didn't always do it on purpose.

"Look, I'm in this job because I stay professional. But you can't imagine how hard it is when someone like him is standing at your doorstep." I shook my head and took a deep breath.

We continued on our way, and I tried to calm down a bit. But the thoughts of Logan Henderson just wouldn't go away. He had firmly taken root in my mind, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake him.

"I really have to pull myself together," I murmured, trying to rein in my emotions a bit. 'I can't get worked up like this. But he just gets on my nerves, and I keep thinking about him!"

"Maybe it's that grin of yours,' Eliot said with a smirk. "Maybe you should stand up to him like you do to me when I get on your nerves."

"Would you then finally stop getting under my skin?" I replied with an ironic smile.

"You know I'd never let that go," he laughed. "But seriously, you're the manager, you're in charge. And the guy's just a guest. Show him you're the boss and everything will be fine."

I nodded as we slowly approached the site of the Ground Zero memorial plaques. I took a deep breath when I saw the area. It was a place where the atmosphere was always heavy and respectful. A place that meant a lot to both of us.

"Let's stay here for a moment," Eliot said, sensing my change. We slowed down, and I immediately felt the silence in the air. This place was a constant reminder to both of us of what we had lost.

I stepped closer to the memorial plaques and placed a hand on the cold surface of the stone. My thoughts flew back to that day. To the moment I had learned that our parents were in the towers. To the moment when our world had changed forever.

"Do you remember what it was like?" I asked quietly, without taking my eyes off the plaques. "It still feels so surreal, as if it were just yesterday."

Eliot stepped up next to me and put a hand on my shoulder. "It was the worst day of our lives, and I still have to fight the images in my head every day. Sometimes I feel so weak when I sit in my office and look outside. But you are strong, Emma. You are so much stronger than you sometimes realize. Mom and Dad would be so proud of us."

I nodded, although I wasn't sure if I would ever really be able to fully accept what had happened. But this, this moment, gave me strength time and again. It was a place where I could find my peace, even if it was still painful.

"I know they'd be proud of us," I whispered, then turned to Eliot. 'I miss you, El.'

"Me too, Em. Every day," he said with a smile, putting an arm around me. "But we have each other."

I nodded, and we stood there for a while, lost in thought, before finally setting off again to spend the rest of the day in the city. But even though the day with my brother had helped clear my mind, I knew that Logan Henderson hadn't yet disappeared from my thoughts – and that somehow didn't feel good.

#fanfiction #wattpad #big time rush #carlos penavega #kendall schmidt #love #btr #enemies to lovers #james maslow #book review #loganhenderson #logan mitchell #fanfic #fanfic writer #unexpected #connection #btr fanfic #new york

Unexpected Connection - Logan Henderson

Chapter 3

Logan

I stood at the front desk and tried to control myself. But the room – the joke of a room – almost drove me to white heat. It was too small, the bed was too narrow, and the walls almost seemed to come towards me. I couldn't believe that they had put me up in such a dump.

When the young woman at the front desk, whose name I didn't yet know, tried to tell me that there was nothing more she could do, I got even angrier. "Why should I settle for this crap?" I shouted, my fists wrapped so tightly around the suitcase handle that I almost tore the skin.

"Calm down, Mr. Henderson. We'll take care of it." She was calm, much too calm. But I just wasn't in the mood for patience.

Then she stepped up to me. Emma White. Again that mixture of professional coldness and something that fascinated me without me wanting it. I had only noticed her fleetingly so far, but now that she was standing right in front of me, I couldn't take my eyes off her.

"What exactly is the problem, Mr. Henderson?" Her voice was calm but firm. There was something about her that made me see red. Maybe it was her posture, this mixture of authority and something I couldn't quite put my finger on – maybe superiority?

"The problem?" I repeated. 'The problem is that I pay for this piece of junk and not for a shitty storage room!"

She looked at me with an unperturbed gaze. 'I see. I'll take the necessary steps to find a new room. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"Oh, I don't think this is just about a room," I cut her off sharply. "I expect nothing less than the best. If your company treats me this way, I expect an apology. And I expect it now."

I realized that I was putting a little too much pressure on her, but I couldn't help it. The frustration was just too great.

But Emma didn't let herself be unsettled. "Mr. Henderson," she said in a calm, almost friendly tone that was somehow even more irritating than her previous look. "I understand your annoyance, but you have to understand that we can't solve problems like this immediately if you don't give us time to take care of them."

I stared at her, my patience was already at zero. "Time? What the hell are you talking about?" I spat. 'I'm not here to wait for you to finally get things moving. I want this hotel to treat me like I deserve to be treated now!"

"I understand your attitude,' she said now, without even blinking. "But believe me, the problem will be fixed quickly. I'll take care of it personally."

I wanted to say something, but she wouldn't be interrupted. She stepped aside and grabbed the phone. In a second, she had activated the right channels to set things in motion. No panic, no hesitation. I found that almost more irritating than her tone.

"This won't happen again, Mr. Henderson. I guarantee that your new room will meet your expectations."

I listened, but it was hard to trust her. But as she got a grip on the situation, I realized I wasn't in a position to keep pushing. Maybe I was used to being coddled, but not her.

"Fine," I snarled. "But I want the room now. I'm not going back to that dump."

"Come with me, please," she said without really looking at me, but the way she said it left no room for discussion. She led me to the elevator. There was something in her eyes that I couldn't quite decipher. Maybe it was anger, maybe it was determination. But she was calm. Completely calm, as if she knew exactly how to deal with me.

There was a tense silence in the elevator. Only the quiet hum of the cabin filled the room. I watched her in the mirror, but she never looked at me. It was as if I didn't even really exist for her – at least not on a personal level. She was focused.

As we stood in front of the new room, she said in her cool manner, "I hope this meets your expectations."

I entered the room and turned to her.

Emma

The door to the room opened and I entered, determined to end the situation here. Logan Henderson stood in front of the window, arms folded, and looked at me. The look on his face was a mixture of anger and incomprehension, as if he was still struggling with himself inside. But I didn't care. I knew what to do.

"Mr. Henderson," I said calmly, taking a few steps closer. "I'm sure you understand that we expect a certain standard here in my hotel. And I'm sure you also know that guests who don't adhere to this standard can be easily evicted."

He slowly turned to me, his eyes flashing with displeasure, but a hint of respect also crept into his gaze. "And what exactly are you trying to tell me, Ms. White? That I should submit?"

"Oh, I don't expect any act of submission from you, Mr. Henderson," I said, taking another step closer until I was only a few centimeters away from him. The tension between us was almost tangible. I could feel his breath, the tension in his body, but I was not deterred. "But what I expect is respect. Not only for me, but also for my staff. The way you treated them today is completely unacceptable."

I was aware of how my proximity affected him, how my tone of voice still appeared calm and controlled while the air around us became increasingly dense. But I wasn't here to flirt. I was here to make it clear who made the rules.

"If you think I'm going to give you another room for your... indefinite needs, then you're mistaken," I said, letting my voice cut through the room. "There is always an alternative, Mr. Henderson. I can also take you to another hotel if you don't like it here."

His eyes sparkled as he scrutinized me, and I could literally feel the resistance in him. But he knew he couldn't win anything here. Even though he still looked at me with a mixture of anger and... maybe a bit of fascination.

"So that's your plan, huh? Just put me out on the street?" he asked, a mocking smile playing around his lips, but it was more of a facade than anything else.

"I think it's an excellent option," I replied, not taking my eyes off him. "The rules are the same for everyone, including you. What I'm trying to make clear to you here is very simple: this is my hotel, Mr. Henderson. You are a guest. And like any other guest who behaves respectfully, you will be treated here. But I expect the same from you. If you can't do that, unfortunately we'll have to find other solutions."

I let my words hang in the air. This clear message was the last thing he needed to understand that I knew how to stay in control. And yet – the fact that he was still staring at me with that cutting look told me that it was far from over.

He stood there, his posture still firm and confident, but he knew he had no choice. What irritated me more than anything, though, was the small spark I saw in his eyes. Something between provocation and acknowledgment. Something he didn't want to admit to himself, but I sensed it.

"So you really think you can lead me along the rules here, hm?" He said, his voice was hard, but I could hear a hint of resignation in it.

"Yes, Mr. Henderson," I replied, taking a step back. "I believe I can do that. And I will do it whenever necessary."

He slumped back in his chair, snorting, but didn't let on. Maybe I wasn't who he expected. Maybe he thought I would offer him an easier solution, but that wasn't the case.

"So enjoy your stay, Mr. Henderson," I said, as I opened the door and took a last look at him. "I hope you now know that we don't act according to the wishful thinking of some guests, but according to clear rules. And I will make sure that you comply with them."

I stepped out, but before I closed the door behind me, I heard him turn back to me.

"I've heard worse," he called after me, but it sounded more like a challenge than an actual reproach.

I closed the door slowly, my heart beating a little faster as I turned around and took a deep breath. He had challenged me – but more than that, he had respected me. And he knew it.

"I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. Henderson," I whispered as I walked down the hallway. I could feel his eyes on me, but I wasn't going to let him influence me. In this hotel, in this game, I was the one who had the last word. And he knew it.

Yes, he knew it.

Logan

I stared at the door that had just closed behind Emma. Her last words still echoing in my head. "This is my hotel, Mr. Henderson. You're a guest. And like any other guest who behaves respectfully, you will be treated here."

I had seen it coming, but that didn't change the way her words resonated within me. Emma White, the manager of this hotel, was not the kind of woman you could easily win a power struggle with. She was focused, self-confident – and damn charming, even if she never showed it directly.

I knew I had dealt with a lot of women, and I knew how to influence them. But Emma... she was different. She was a wall of professionalism, and I didn't plan on breaking through it just like that.

I heard the soft click of the door falling shut behind her. What she had just said might have sounded professional, but I sensed a challenge in her words as well. She had made it clear to me that she knew how to deal with men like me. And that? That excited me even more.

I had measured her with a firm look when she had made it clear to me that here in this hotel the rules were made by her. Her words were calm, but behind the controlled facade I knew that she knew how to exert power.

And damn it, I couldn't help but respect that.

I sat there, staring at the spot on the floor where she had been standing when she told me to my face that she could have me transported to another hotel if necessary. And it didn't sound like an empty threat. This woman would do it. No question about it.

She is not only in control of this hotel, but also of the game we are playing here.

The way she approached me – so calm, so sure, and yet she kept challenging me with her eyes – that was no accident. She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew she had my attention, that she was pushing me to the edge of my own patience without me even realizing it.

She had moved a step closer to me, and I was sure she knew how her body was electrifying the air between us. Her presence, this absolute control she radiated – I had never met a woman who exuded something like that without openly showing it.

You're not like the others, Ms. White.

But then, when she turned away from me and showed me her back, I sensed how my gaze changed for a moment. That mixture of power and seduction... She was a challenge, no question about it.

"I hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. Henderson," she had said, and I understood immediately. She hadn't just offered me her retreat. She had challenged me in my own position of power play without saying a word. She had made it clear to me that she was in control – and that I should remember that.

I sat down on the bed and rubbed my neck. The sight of her perfect posture, her unobtrusive charm, which was woven around me like an invisible web... Damn, that's dangerous.

But what fascinated me most wasn't the way she taught me a lesson. It was the way she remained completely calm and professional, as if she had played the game a hundred times before. It was as if she knew how far she could go to test me, but without ever losing her composure.

"This is a damn game," I murmured softly, putting my head in my hands. But I'll win.

I had challenged women who were just as tough as she was. And often I had gotten them anyway, maybe not right away, but eventually. And I was sure that at some point she wouldn't be able to stay calm either.

But for now – for this moment – I had to admit to myself that she had held up a mirror to me. Her calmness, her control... I had unconsciously given her too much space. And that made it all the more dangerous.

"You'll see," I murmured, grinning. I play this game just as well as you do, Ms. White.

Emma

I leaned against the wall in the hallway and took a deep breath. My heart was beating even faster than usual as I put the encounter with Logan Henderson behind me. He had tested me, for sure. But I felt like he had made the biggest mistake anyone in my position could make.

He had challenged the wrong woman. And he knew it by now.

I stared at the long hotel corridor, the anger inside me seething like a fire that I could hardly control. Logan Henderson. That damned man, that disgusting, arrogant bastard. I couldn't believe the stunt he'd pulled. Arrogant, disrespectful, impudent. And all because his damn room didn't meet his "standards". Who did he think he was? King of the World? That stupid look on his face, as if he owned everything and everyone.

The anger inside of me boiled over. And that wasn't even the worst of it. The worst thing was that he had taken up residence in my mind. Again and again I saw that arrogant grin, that self-righteous sparkle in his eyes. How could someone be such a piece of work and so unbelievably attractive at the same time?

I sniffed and rubbed my face. I couldn't afford to be distracted. He was a guest. And I was the manager of this damn hotel. So I had to pull myself together. No room for emotions, Emma. He's nothing more than an idiot who wants a bed and should behave himself.

Just as I was about to walk away, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around, and almost out of nowhere, Mrs. Reynolds, the boy band's manager, appeared before me.

"Ms. White? Are you all right?"

There was something between concern and caution in her gaze as she looked at me. She scrutinized me with a look that immediately detected the spark of unrest. My face must have been displaying a whole range of emotions that I was still trying to hold together. But Mrs. Reynolds had the perceptive gaze of a woman who understood the fine nuances when it came to conflict. She was no newbie to the business, but the look on my face must have suggested to her that there was something here that was throwing me quite off track.

"Are you all right?" she asked again, but it sounded almost like a rhetorical question. Her eyes seemed to focus on my continuing uneasiness, which was so obvious that I didn't know if I could hide it any longer.

"Mrs. Reynolds, if I'm honest..." I began, my voice harder than intended. It was hard to maintain control over the pent-up anger, but I had to. I was here to assert my position, not give in. "Could you please keep your boys, and especially Mr. Henderson, a little more in check? There are things that are not acceptable here."

My smile was like a mask that I had perfectly mastered – a smile that made people think I was always willing to accommodate them. But things were seething beneath the surface. Mrs. Reynolds should know that I was serious. That this incident with Logan Henderson would not just be left hanging.

"I would really appreciate it if you could make sure that Mr. Henderson treats my team with more respect in the future," I added calmly, but there was a clear demand behind my words. It was over. This line had been crossed, and I would not allow anyone, no matter who, to feel that they could get away with anything here.

Lydia reacted quickly, but she didn't let herself be drawn out immediately. Her expression was calm, almost relaxed, but I noticed the fleeting look of embarrassment in her eyes. She knew I wouldn't exaggerate at all. This matter was too serious to be dismissed. Her answer came calmly, almost soothingly, but I sensed the underlying respect in her words.

"Of course, Ms. White," she finally said, her voice sober but not dismissive. She added with a slight smile, 'I'll make sure there are no further misunderstandings.' I could see it in her eyes – she understood that this was no harmless incident and that I would show no mercy in protecting my team and the quality of this hotel.

I nodded curtly and then let her go. As I looked down the hallway, my anger flared up again. But when my eyes fell on the last place I had seen Logan Henderson – that arrogant, self-confident guy – I felt an inexplicable tingle. My mind raced, and I had to remind myself not to let him into my head.

He could get upset and feel disadvantaged as much as he wanted. But here, in this hotel, I was the one who made the rules. I was in charge. And he could stuff his opinion of me and my hotel.

"Come on, Emma," I murmured under my breath, taking a deep breath to compose myself. This situation was far from resolved, and I had to remain steadfast in my role as manager. I ran a hand through my hair as if I could just rub away all the pent-up tension. But deep down, I knew I wouldn't be able to get this guy out of my mind anytime soon.

"It's all right, Emma," I whispered to myself as I walked down the hallway, my steps firm and determined. The tension was slowly easing, but I couldn't deny that a vague sense of control and determination was growing in me. It was as if everything was coming together in this moment – my duty as a manager, my role as the person in charge here at the hotel, and this strange, uncomfortable fascination that Logan Henderson had triggered in me.

But I quickly shook off the thought. It didn't matter what kind of game he wanted to play. I was the boss of this hotel. And he knew it. I was the one who held the cards here.

With a final, clear expression on my face, colder than anything else, I turned around and went back to the reception. I left the thoughts of Logan Henderson far behind me, at least I tried to. But somewhere inside of me, I already knew: This was not the last time I would see him.

And somehow... that felt damn good.

praetoravila

LOVE STICKS, SWEAT DRIPS - a lolive boxing au

The first time Olive walks into Rocque Room, it's because of court mandated therapy. She's 16, coming off of juvenile assault charges and struggling with her mental health. Now, at 22, she's in college, and doing significantly better. Rocque Room is her safe place, which is why she's pissed off when there's a new boy whose taking over her boxing ring. Logan Mitchell hasn't played hockey for months. Between his shoulder tear, and the start of his medical schooling, he's honestly had no time to really exercise the way he used to - so when he gets a flyer in the mail advertising 40% at the local gym, he springs on the chance. The pretty girl whose called dibs on the boxing ring in the back is just a benefit. Logan knows he's pushing Olive's buttons every time he shows up at her spot, and Olive knows that Logan's trying to get a rise out of her. Of course, the two of them are too stubborn to actually talk to each other, at least until they both happen to be training at the same time, and realize, hey maybe they aren't so bad?

POV: You never imagined seeing the boys in real life, but here you are.

Can someone bring back my summer? The hours when something inside me pressed the yellow button and I felt pure joy.

Unexpected Connection - Logan Henderson

Chapter 2

Emma

"Ms. White, it's nice to meet you in person." Mrs. Reynold, who I had only known from e-mails, came up to me with a broad, friendly smile. She was shorter than me, had golden brown curls and a face full of freckles that gave her an almost childlike appearance. She was immediately likeable, and I shook her hand.

"Welcome, Mrs. Reynold. I hope your journey was pleasant?" I asked, while I examined her with a smile. Her eyes wandered briefly to her companion, and I followed the glance automatically.

The man behind her was tall, at least as tall as me. He had black hair that glistened in the light and a striking face that immediately caught the eye. But it wasn't just his looks that made him so fascinating. It was the expression in his eyes – deep, almost challenging, as if he could see right through me. There was something unfathomable about this look, and for a moment I wondered if he noticed it himself.

He had the typical boy band face, but there was more. And yet I couldn't help but unconsciously disapprove of the arrogant attitude he had. Something about him wasn't right, even when he looked at me from a distance with a strangely intense presence, as if I were the only thing he cared about.

I turned back to Mrs. Reynold and tried to avert my eyes from him. "I hope you will like your rooms and Anna gave you a warm welcome?"

"Yes, thank you. Everything is perfect," she replied, and when she glanced back at the group of men in front of us, they nodded briefly.

"I'm glad to hear that," I said, trying my best to smile politely. But somehow the conversation today was different than usual. Something in the air was wrong, and it was precisely this man with the deep brown eyes who was constantly on my mind.

And then, just as I was about to turn away from them, it sounded again from his mouth: "I hope I see you later."

This remark – it was sharp and so casual that I had the urge to retort angrily. But I didn't. Instead, I nodded, tried to keep my composure, and said calmly, "I'm sure."

"It was a pleasure to meet you," I added before turning away and making my way to my office.

———

The lunch break came at just the right time. Anna and I sat in one of the small cafés in Central Park to escape the hustle and bustle of the hotel for a few minutes. The autumn air was mild, and the scent of Pumpkin Spice Latte wafted towards us. The leaves began to change color, and the golden glow of the sun bathed the park in a magical atmosphere. I couldn't help but take a deep breath and enjoy the moment.

"So, how was it with Mr. Harrison? Did everything go well?" Anna asked with a mischievous grin as she set my black coffee and a carrot cake in front of me.

"Yes, everything was fine with him. No problems," I replied, reaching for the cake. But then I thought of the group again. "But his daughters are big fans of this boy band we have here now."

Anna just grinned. "Oh dear, but you can't be blamed. Did you see the guy with the buzz cut?" Her eyes were already sparkling like a dog dreaming of a treat. "I'll tell you, if he asked me out, I wouldn't say no. He looks like he could do some..." She arched her eyebrows, which transformed her face into a mischievous smile. "And the big guy with the beard and bulging muscles, my God. He looks like he knows how to properly take care of a woman. But he's taken."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "Anna, you're incorrigible," I laughed, but inside I was suddenly no longer so sure. Something about the band, and especially about him, wouldn't leave me alone. The guy with the deep brown eyes – he was what you would commonly call irresistible.

"I don't like the guys, honestly," I said in a determined tone, as if I wanted to convince myself.

Anna laughed loudly and took a sip of her coffee. "Really? They look like they can give you everything you want. And the shorter one with the blond hair? He looks like the type who would buy you more than just a coffee."

I stared at her. She was right, but I just couldn't admit it – at least not in front of her.

"I'm telling you, you should change your mind. You're not usually so stiff," Anna laughed and clinked her cup against mine.

"Or do you like the cool guy? The one with all the charm and facial expressions? You know, the type that drives every woman crazy. What was his name again? Logan?"

I winced when the name 'Logan' was mentioned. Immediately, a warm shiver went through me, which I couldn't explain. The thought of him was like a magnet that drew me into his spell. The way he had looked at me yesterday – those piercing, almost demanding eyes... I tried to pull myself together, but the name 'Logan' kept echoing in my head, and the guy just wouldn't let me go.

"He's... too much," I finally said, even though I knew it sounded like I was trying to fool myself. "I don't want that. Too much drama."

Anna snorted and grinned broadly. "Sure, Emma. Too much drama. You're such a bad liar." She took another sip of her coffee, then put the cup down and folded her arms across her chest. "He's probably a real romantic behind his womanizer facade. Believe me, he knows exactly how to handle you."

I rolled my eyes and tried to distract myself. "I really don't have much time for him," I repeated, although I knew that at that moment I was trying to fool myself.

Anna laughed and shook her head. "Oh, sure. The steely Emma. But you're just trying to fool yourself, aren't you? I can tell you have a little soft spot for him. No wonder, the guy has this aura, you know?"

I wanted to say something, but at that moment I felt a strange lump in my throat. This Logan – why did he still occupy my thoughts? Why didn't he let go of me? I leaned back and tried to breathe calmly.

"Whatever," I finally said, forcing a smile. 'Work is work. And he's part of it.' It was the only answer I could come up with at the moment, even though I knew that Anna heard more than just my words.

Anna grinned when she noticed my hesitation, and I knew she'd seen right through me. But I wasn't going to admit it – not now, not like this.

———

After a refreshing lunch break in Central Park, Anna and I slowly made our way back to the hotel. Autumn was now unmistakable in New York and the trees began to turn bright colors. The streets were full of people heading for the milder temperatures, and the scent of Pumpkin Spice Latte wafted over from every corner.

"You know, Em," Anna said as we walked through the front doors of the hotel, "you should really practice your poker face when you talk to that guy. You've never tried so hard to suppress a reaction as you did with him."

I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest. "I told you I didn't fancy him," I replied curtly, even though I knew that Anna always managed to touch a raw nerve with her pointed remarks.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, giving me a cheeky grin. "We can make a game out of it – if you ever bring yourself to give him a smile, you get a voucher for a spa experience."

I laughed softly, even though the idea of a spa voucher did little to help me free myself from thoughts of Logan. I still felt him, as if he were a shadow that haunted me. What was wrong with me?

We went to the front desk, where my colleagues were already working on their tasks. Just as I was about to turn to my desk, I noticed a loud, tense exchange between Logan and one of the young ladies at the front desk. The tone of voice was unmistakable, and the name "Logan" echoed through the room.

"—this is just not acceptable. I made it clear that I cannot sleep in a room with a bed that offers barely more space than a bathtub! What kind of service is this?"

The voice was unmistakable and left no doubt that it was Logan. And he was clearly not in a good mood.

I put one foot in the direction of the reception when I noticed Anna's gaze, which was curiously scrutinizing me. She just shrugged, as if to say, "Well, have fun."

"Excuse me, what exactly is the problem here?" I asked in a calm but firm tone as I approached. It was the right amount of professionalism that I had to show at such moments. After all, it was my job to mediate and find solutions.

Mr. Henderson turned to me immediately, and this time the look was not only more intense than at the first meeting, but also mixed with a hint of displeasure. He stared at me as if I were the last person on earth to whom he wanted to explain anything.

"The room I've been assigned is simply unacceptable," he continued, and his look left me in no doubt that he was really annoyed. "I'm paying for quality, not for a bed that I can barely turn around in."

"Mr. Henderson," I said calmly, taking a step closer, the professionalism in my voice leaving no room for misunderstanding. "We are, of course, sorry for the inconvenience. I'm happy to take another look at the room and see what we can do to resolve the problem."

"I would prefer you to deal with it directly," Mr. Henderson replied in a sharp tone, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he tried to contain his anger. "The bed... it's unacceptable. It's much too small. If I'm paying for this stay, I expect at least a bed worthy of the name."

His words hung in the air like a challenge, and although I knew that it was my job to remain calm and solution-oriented, I couldn't help but feel the tension between us. He was not your typical guest who could be satisfied with a simple "sorry." But I wasn't a hotel employee who would just take anything either.

"Mr. Henderson," I began, a little sharper this time, "we have already spoken to the team in charge, and there were no further complaints regarding the room size. This is the standard room you booked. I can offer you an upgrade, but to do that, I'd have to check if a suitable room is available."

"An upgrade?" Mr. Henderson cut me off, his voice a little sharper now. "That's not the solution. I don't want an upgrade, I want a decent bed. And I expect it to be of an appropriate standard."

I held his gaze steadily, though it was hard for me to remain calm. Something about his manner, that mixture of dissatisfaction and dominance, spurred me on. "I understand your frustration, but I can assure you that we are doing our best to satisfy you. Please give me a moment."

I was about to reach for the phone to contact my colleague and housekeeping manager, Robert, when Mr. Henderson took another step towards me and there was a hint of surprise in his words. "You're the... manager here?"

"Yes, exactly," I replied, raising an eyebrow. 'And that means I'm responsible for finding solutions. What exactly would you like me to do, Mr. Henderson?' My voice was calm but firm. I knew I couldn't get involved in a discussion that wasn't within my area of responsibility.

Mr. Henderson looked at me for a moment, and I could see a mixture of resignation and renewed calculation in his eyes. He shook his head slowly, as if inwardly acknowledging a point.

"I just want to make sure that the service here meets the standard I expect," he finally said, a little calmer but no less determined.

I nodded, but I knew that this altercation was not over yet. There was tension in the air that would not dissipate easily. But it was a start – we were on to it. And in a way, I knew that we were now meeting on a completely different level.

"I'll take care of it, Mr. Henderson," I said and turned to solve the problem. 'I'll take care of everything."

Anna had followed the conversation with interest, and when I turned away from Mr. Henderson, I noticed the mischievous grin on her face. She knew exactly what she saw.

"You really stood up to him,' she said with a slight, almost insolent smile.

I ignored her and continued on my way, but somehow I couldn't shake the feeling that Logan Henderson and I were on dangerous ground. Ground that neither of us fully understood yet.

But we would.

Unexpected Connection - Logan Henderson

Chapter 1:

Emma

"And last up for today, we have the VIP arrivals. In the Presidential Suite, Governor Paul Harrison will be checking in with his wife Laura and his two daughters Sophie and Tilly. Please ensure that the sixth floor is not accessible to any other guests. Security comes first here." I continued to scroll through the list of today's arrivals and skimmed over the details. New York is full of events this week and all the hotels are fully booked - including my own. In addition to the political visit, I had the challenge of accommodating an entire team of producers with a boy band. And this gang had, of course, made themselves comfortable for a whole month. Luckily, I was able to house them far away from Governor Harrison.

"Oh, Emma, before I forget: Mrs. Reynolds called. She wanted to make sure the rooms were properly prepared for the boy band and that they were getting the daily turn-down service. She also asked if the room of Mr. Maslow would get the dog treatment, because he's now coming with his girlfriend and two dogs." Anna, my assistant and best friend, interrupted me as I was going through the final details.

Anna and I have been inseparable since high school. We went to college together, spent a year volunteering in Australia and now work at the most prestigious hotel in Central Park, New York. She has often helped me out when I was in the middle of a mess.

"Emma, have you been listening to me?" Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I winced - was I really that lost in my own thoughts again? I quickly shook myself, turning my gaze to Anna and the other members of my team.

"Sorry," I mumbled, "yes, the dog treatment has been prepared and the daily cleaning service for all the rooms has also been organized. Anna, please take care of welcoming the band personally when they arrive. I will probably be busy with Mr. Harrison for a while. If there are any problems, please call me immediately." I glanced at the remaining tasks. "Our house is almost fully booked, and the privacy and security of our VIPs must be absolutely guaranteed. Do you understand? It's going to be a busy week, but I know we can do it together. Are you all ready?" I looked at the faces of my team - Anna's eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

"Okay, let's get started then." I closed the folder with the documents and walked towards the back office.

Looking at my desk, you might wonder how I managed to run a department in this chaos. In contrast, Anna's desk always looked spotless. I still had a lot of emails to answer and two meetings to attend, but then I received a message: reception needed me. So I made my way to the front desk.

My colleague Samantha was at reception and explained the situation to me: a guest wasn't happy with their booking.

"Welcome, how can I help you, Mr.... Jones?" I had just called up his name in my system and looked at the details. "I don't know if your colleague is new, but I've been coming to your hotel for years and always have the same room. I expect you to respect my wishes this time too." Mr. Jones gesticulated wildly with his arms and his cheeks took on a reddish hue. I really liked guests like that. Not only did they feel like the kings of the world, they assumed they could get away with anything. But even this type was easy to appease if you knew how.

"Mr. Jones, I assure you that we always do our best to offer our guests a pleasant stay," I said calmly and with a smile. "Unfortunately, we cannot fulfill your request for this particular room as it is reserved exclusively for another booking. But I will be happy to offer you a complimentary upgrade to one of our Club Suites." In less than a minute, I had changed his booking and found the right solution.

Despite his initial anger, he seemed to relax a little as he held the suite card in his hand. "It's the least I can do," he grumbled, "and please have my luggage brought up. The suits here urgently need to be dry cleaned."

I nodded and made a note. "Of course, I'll take care of it. The suits will be sent to the dry cleaners immediately and will be returned to you today." I handed him the new room cards and gave him an extra charming smile. "If you have any further questions or requests, I'm always at your disposal." I could see him calm down again when he noticed my smile. That was the moment I knew I had won him over.

"Thank you, Miss White," he finally said, giving me an almost conspiratorial wink.

"Miss White," I corrected reflexively. Why was I doing that? What possessed me to be so formal, as if there was something to correct? I watched Mr. Jones for a moment and had the feeling that he saw the whole conversation as some kind of game. But I had clearer rules: Work and private life - strictly separate. And Mr. Jones clearly belonged to work.

Back in the back office, I found Anna coming towards me with a big grin on her face. I knew immediately what she was thinking. She had heard everything.

"Let's not pretend you don't know anything," I said with a sigh. "What do you have to say, Anna?"

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Emma, have you really not noticed? You've got Mr. Jones wrapped around your finger! And that wink - he's clearly interested."

I shook my head, but couldn't suppress a smile. "You really are a good observer, it's almost creepy."

"You should really consider that," she continued, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe it's time to go on a date again. It's been a while since your last one."

"Anna!" I laughed and gave her a suspicious look. "That's not something we should be discussing here at work."

But before she could continue, Samantha came back into the office.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, but Mrs. Jackson from the band called. She and the boys will be here in a few minutes."

I groaned inwardly. The boy band wasn't originally announced for five o'clock - why did they have to be here now? "Anna, you take care of the band, will you? I have to see the governor and his family. I really don't have any more nerves for these guys today."

"Of course," Anna said, rolling her eyes. She knew perfectly well that I always felt more comfortable with political guests than with self-absorbed singers.

"I've already informed the security staff that they need to keep a closer eye on the front door. They're arriving pretty much at the same time as the governor." Samantha looked nervous.

I looked at my watch - 3:45pm. Crap. It was going to be a mess.

"Okay, we're good to go then," I said, trying to activate my smile. "Let's receive our VIPs. What the hell, this should be...fun."

I made my way to the lobby - the true test of my hotel management skills was about to begin.

Logan

The traffic in New York is a nightmare as always. Every meter stretches, the noise of honking cars and the incessant rattling of trams mix into a single, agonizing sound. I rest my head against the taxi window and try to relax somehow, but the dull pain in my head cannot be ignored. The six-hour flight from L.A. to here didn't help. On the contrary. I just want to arrive and finally have some peace and quiet.

"You look like you could use a drink," Kendall says next to me, his voice as relaxed as ever, but his look betrays that he knows there's more to my condition than that.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," I mutter, trying to suppress a grin, although the stabbing pain in my head makes that almost impossible. I close my eyes and sink further against the window.

"I've been watching you the whole flight, you know? And every time you open your eyes, you have this look on your face – as if you want to drag the whole world into the abyss. And it's been like that for hours." Kendall leans back in his seat, crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. "Believe me, man, I know the feeling. You keep burying yourself in your head when it gets to be too much. And you keep doing it."

"I don't have the energy to deal with your stuff today," I say, ignoring the slight tingling in my chest when I think of his words. It's not the first time Kendall has held up the mirror to me – but today it feels different. Like an echo from a bygone era when I hadn't tried to numb myself so often.

"You always talk yourself into it, Logan," Kendall says with a slight smirk. "You always act as if you're the only one struggling through all of this, as if the whole lifestyle is a burden you have to carry alone. But this..." – he points to the streets of New York as if he could sweep aside all the chaos around us with a flick of his hand – "... this is not only the price of success. It's also the price of what you do to yourself."

I blink and then look at him out of the corner of my eye. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on, you know exactly what I mean," Kendall says and sits up a bit straighter. "You're just running from one party to the next, from one woman to the next – always on the hunt for the next distraction. It's like you're running away from something. Always looking for the next kick to fill the empty space inside you, but somehow it's never enough, is it?"

His words hit me like a blow, even though I don't really want to admit it. The truth cuts more than I want to admit, and somehow I know Kendall is right. I've thrown myself into this downward spiral often enough, as if the next one-night stand or the next show is the right way to clear my head. But it never works. It never works.

"You know me well, don't you?" I say, more as a statement than a question. I suddenly feel naked in front of him, as if he has seen right through me – as if all my masks have been blown up from the first second.

"I've copied that from you," he replies dryly, "the way you go from one woman to the next without really looking, that's the way you go through your life. Always straight ahead, without stopping to ask what you're actually doing. What you're actually losing."

I want to say something, but all I can feel is the throbbing of this damn headache. So many nights, so many faces, so many people I know, but no one who is really there when it counts. I feel like I've been disappearing more and more into myself in the last few months – as if the chase for the next kick is all that's left holding me together.

"I just want some peace and quiet, Kendall," I say, my voice lower than I thought. 'I just want to clear my head for once. Not always this damn restlessness. But somehow... somehow I never find the way out."

"Because you never really try to find the way out, Logan,' Kendall replies. "You act as if this is somehow normal. But you're not the type to betray yourself, you're better than that."

He speaks with such clarity, as if he were the only one who sees the truth. And somehow he is. The other guys, Carlos, James – they know that I talk a little too loosely and take life as it comes. But they don't see what I hide behind the facades. Kendall sees it. And that feels good and bad at the same time. Good because he's finally throwing a reality in my face that I'd rather block out. Bad because with each of his words, I catch myself lying to myself more.

"You're such a damn brother, you know that?" I finally say, without taking my eyes off him. I see that he is not only there for me now, but that he is also making an effort to understand me. It's not the first time that Kendall has been there for me as a friend, as a brother. But today it feels different. More profound.

"Someone has to take the fall for you if you can't do it yourself," says Kendall, with a slight smile on his lips. But it's not a joke. It's the truth. And it's more than I'm often willing to admit. He has that look that only a brother can have – the look that says, "I'm here even when you don't want me to be."

The taxi rolls through the streets of Manhattan, and slowly the lights of the hotel become visible – the last hectoliters of stress and excitement disappear behind us as the shiny black facade of the hotel comes into view. A familiar sight, but one that seems different to me today. Maybe because it's the moment when I realize that this whole lifestyle, the celebrity, the constant back and forth between shows and women, is no longer enough. Maybe it's this moment when I realize that Kendall is the only one who is really listening to me right now.

The taxi pulls up in front of the entrance, the driver turns around and says, "We're here, guys."

"Finally," I mutter and open the door.

Kendall follows me and when we're standing in front of the hotel, he turns to me. 'Come on, man. Think about what I said,' he says calmly. "It's not too late to see things differently. You just have to stop running away from yourself."

I nod and take a deep breath. "I'll think about it, Kendall. I promise."

He gives me a friendly pat on the shoulder, and with one last look in his eyes, I know that he won't let up. He knows that I'll follow him eventually – maybe not right away, but eventually. And somehow that's a reassuring thought.

————

"So, guys, here are your room cards. Unfortunately there was no other way – Carlos, James, you're at the other end of the hallway. Kendall, you're near the elevator, and Logan, your room is on the other side. And another thing, don't stand out too much, you're not alone in this hotel," Lydia preached in her typical, slightly annoyed tone of voice.

Sometimes I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Keeping four grown men under control, who apparently still had the maturity of teenagers, must be a full-time job for her. And when it wasn't us that was getting on her nerves, it was her seven-year-old son Simon. The little boy had so much energy that you thought he could set the whole hotel on fire if you just gave him a few too many gummy bears.

The boys and I all had to keep a small grin to ourselves. Despite being in our early thirties, when we were together, we always seemed to revert to this state of youthful unreasonableness. We were like a boy band in the best and worst sense.

"Don't worry, Lydia," Kendall said with a mischievous grin, 'we learned from last time.' He was, of course, alluding to our stay in Miami, when James had managed to trigger the fire alarm in his room by setting the shower to volcano temperature. A few firefighters had kindly reminded us then that the fire alarms weren't just there for fun. Nobody was hurt, but it was... messy.

"I'm counting on you guys," Lydia said, her expression now serious, 'Ms. White specifically told me to keep an eye on you. And there can be no problems that could damage the reputation of a certain boy band.' She gave us a meaningful look that made it clear that she was very serious.

I frowned. Who did this "Ms. White" think she was? Who was she to tell us how to behave? After all, we weren't children anymore who needed to be constantly supervised.

"Don't worry, we'll show our best side," Carlos said with a confident smile and took his room card. 'I certainly hope so,' Lydia replied, and a small, almost motherly smile crossed her face.

"Oh, we'll show Miss White how irresistible we are," Kendall laughed, and the others joined in his grin.

Lydia just shook her head. "We'll see about that. Ms. White isn't much into boy bands and has a rather negative view of the whole hype. So show her what you've got." Her voice was cool, but not unpleasant – more of an encouraging pressure.

"Ah, Ms. White," I thought to myself, 'that sounds like a very pleasant person."

James patted me on the shoulder and grinned wider than was actually necessary. 'Don't panic, Lydia. Logan will charm her into changing her mind, like he always does," he said, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning.

Despite the throbbing headache, I couldn't help but laugh. "It would be my pleasure," I joked back, knowing full well that he was alluding to my flirtatious skills.

But before I could dwell on James' wit, I heard a voice behind me that drew like a magnet through the room.

"I think it won't be necessary to change my mind."

I turned around abruptly and suddenly found myself face to face with the source of that voice.

At that moment, the room deflated. Her eyes – bright green like emerald rivers – seemed to look straight into my soul. It was as if her gaze instantly stripped me naked and saw everything that was hidden deep within me. Her presence was overwhelming, and yet so calm and matter-of-fact. I could literally feel the air thickening around us. Her dominance was subtle but unequivocal. She didn't need to be loud to make herself felt.

Despite her petite stature and flawless appearance – the uniform, which perfectly accentuated her figure, and the skirt, which seemed to dance with her with every step – she radiated an allure that was almost dangerous. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and framed her face in a way that was so seductive that it almost paralyzed me.

"Ms. White..." I heard Lydia say behind me, who was obviously just as fascinated by this woman. She went up to her to shake her hand, but I could hardly let go of the moment.

Ms. White's gaze lingered on me for a moment, then she turned to Lydia. A fleeting glance, but it felt like an electric shock. I knew immediately that I was not mistaken. This woman was not just "another person" in our hotel. She was someone you couldn't ignore.

"So that's Ms. White," I thought to myself, shaking my head inwardly. "Great, Logan. Good luck dealing with her."

I was suddenly unsure how happy I should be about this encounter. But one thing was clear: this woman would not escape me so easily.

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Unexpected Connection - Logan Henderson

Prologue

"Damn it, now say it. Just say I was just part of your amusement. Your personal pastime!"

How could I believe him for another moment? How could I still believe that anything he'd said was true after everything he was saying now about this rift between us? I could no longer see him without thinking of the words that perhaps the whole world had already heard. The whole world. I was just one of many, one he had used in his own little show - a fleeting shadow in a game I had never understood. How had I been so blind? So stupid? I had thought we could do it. Us against them. He and I, side by side, conquering the world, standing against everything. How could I have been so naive?

The cold New York wind cut through my jacket, snapping me out of my thoughts and forcing me back to reality. There he was. There he was, in that brown suit that clung to his body like a second skin. I saw his hand resting on the railing of the pier, his fingers barely more than a shadow on the metal. His eyes, so deep and dark, darted across the Manhattan skyline. He was thinking. I could tell - he was biting his lower lip, a tick he had when he was nervous or mulling something over. I knew him so well, or so I thought. How could I?

The wind carried his scent to me, sweet and heavy, a mix of sandalwood and cardamom that wrapped itself around me like an invisible ribbon. I had always liked it, this scent, almost like a drug that numbed my senses. Like a high that I never wanted to get rid of. But now everything felt different. The air burned in my lungs and I felt my heart tighten in my chest.

He shook his head as if he was trying to free himself of something, as if he was trying to let me go.

"I can't." His voice was rough, laced with a depth that sounded almost broken that night. A pain that he tried to hide, but which could not be denied. And then our eyes met. Those brown eyes that had always fascinated me so much, so infinitely deep and now... now they seemed almost black, as if they wanted to swallow me up. The shadow of the square, the darkness of the hour, had transformed them.

"I just can't." He repeated, as if to exonerate himself, as if he had to keep explaining to me why he couldn't fight anymore.

I felt the lump in my throat grow. Anger, sadness, a bitterness that almost suffocated me. He should apologize. He was the one who had betrayed me, not me. And yet I felt like the one who had failed. Like the one who had made the mistake of feeling too much, believing too much. How could I?

The tears that I had held back for so long suddenly found a way out. They ran, hot and salty, down my cheeks. I wanted to shoo them away, didn't want him to see how much he was destroying me. But it was too late.

"All right," I whispered as my voice almost gave out. "So it's over then? We never existed?"

The pain was so real, so physical, that I felt like my heart would burst into a thousand pieces. I saw him take a step towards me, as if he wanted to reach me, but my feet, paralyzed, did nothing but flinch. I didn't want him to tell me that. I didn't want it to end. Not like this. Not now. Not after everything I'd done for him. Not after everything we'd... everything I'd believed.

He reached out, looking for my hand. But I couldn't take it. The walls I had so painstakingly built were crumbling, but my pride refused to surrender them for good. I couldn't allow him to have any more power over me. Not anymore.

"God, how you disgusted me just now," I groaned. The words tasted bitter on my tongue. They were so much easier to say than I ever thought they would be. They came from deep inside, from a part of me that craved self-protection.

"Emma, listen to me. I can't because it's not true." His voice was firm now, a cold, unyielding bond that drew me further and further away from him. He looked at me with a gaze that almost consumed me. Those eyes, which had been so familiar, bored into me as if searching for some reaction, some final response that we both so desperately needed. But I was empty, burnt out.

There was nothing more I could do. And again, as if in a last desperate attempt to feel his closeness, that scent flowed to me, enveloping me like a thick fog. But it didn't help. Nothing helped.

At that moment, I really thought I was going to throw up. But it wasn't the wind or the smell of Manhattan that made me sick. It was him. And everything he had done to me.

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Should I post the whole Fanfic?

Unexpected Connection -Logan Henderson Fanfic

A sneak peek at my current fan fiction. Feel free to drop by!