by E. L. Montes
She turns her head, eyes glistening. “Yeah, that too. But he was also the first guy I fell in love with, the first guy I ever trusted, and the first guy who broke my heart.”
“What happened between the two of you?”
Jersey Girl turns her head away, her gaze skimming over the lake. She breathes in one deep breath, and then lets out a sigh, her shoulders deflating in the process. “I got sick.”
“Sick?”
“Yeah, sick. There was a time where I was at my lowest point in my life. Well, at the time I thought it was my lowest—”
“Like, the flu sick?” I interrupt.
She brings her eyes back to me. “Just sick, Logan. The point that I’m trying to make is that Eric couldn’t handle it and he left me. It was heartbreaking because it was when I needed him the most and he walked away from it all.”
What kind of bastard does that to someone he claims to care for? “Do you know where he lives now?” I ask.
Her brows draw in. “No. Why?”
“So I can go kick his ass.” I shrug at her wide-eyed expression. “I mean it’s an instant reaction. Do you have a last name? Social security number?”
She laughs.
There it is—her smile. I grin along with her, but I’m dead serious about hunting down this Eric guy. I put those thoughts aside and pull her into me. She nestles into my chest.
We stand there for a while before she pulls away and looks up. “So, there were a couple pretty girls at the party tonight.”
I smile. She’s talking about two girls that showed up. Jersey Girl caught Santino staring at them and overheard him tell me he thought they were hot. “Yeah, there were.”
She looks down, lightly tapping her sneaks into the edge of my boots. “Well, maybe you should ask one of them out sometime,” she says softly.
“Maybe,” I say. But they’re not you. That’s what I really want to say.
“So,” I say. “What’s going on with you and Matthew? Are you guys a couple or something?” I ask.
She snorts. “Hell no. I told him I’d prefer to be friends. We have nothing in common.”
You sure have a bad habit of putting guys in the friend zone, Jersey Girl. I make sure to keep that remark to myself.
Jenna lifts her chin. Her pouty lips twist into a gentle smile and her large cinnamon-brown eyes gleam. And that’s when it hits me: the feeling. It feels like one hard shot to the chest, punching all the air from my lungs. They slowly struggle to expand as I try to catch my breath.
Jesus Christ, Jenna is beautiful. She’s not the kind of beauty that you use for a one-night stand. She’s also not a friendly, sisterly kind of beautiful. She’s more than that.
Jenna is the kind of beautiful that I can get lost in. Lost from all the fucked-up-ness in my head. She’s the kind of beautiful that laughs at all my nonfunny jokes because she gets me. She’s the kind of beautiful that’ll put me in my place without batting an eye. Jenna is the kind of beautiful that can transform a nonbelieving man like me into a man who wants more. A man who can fall hard, stumbling over his own two feet because he’s so tangled up in her.
Fuck. Did I actually just admit that to myself?
Yes, I did. Because it’s all true. I’m falling for her.
Jenna has me strung the fuck out and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Maybe if I just tell her, maybe she feels the same.
But she’s made it very clear we should remain friends. If I tell her, she’ll just pull away. Do I risk our friendship over these feelings I have—feelings I’m not sure I can control any longer?
I know she feels it. She has to; there’s no way I’m feeling every bit of this on my own, it’s that damn powerful. Whatever is going on between us is definitely more.
I want to give her more of me, show her what I’m capable of. But I’m not even sure what the hell I’m capable of.
This is fucking frustrating.
“Are you okay?” Jenna asks. I nod. “Are you sure? You seem a little out of it.”
“No. I’m fine.” I take a step back, making sure to keep my eyes away from her. I can’t bear to look at her with my thoughts racing like this.
“Logan?” she questions cautiously.
“Jenna, I’m fine. Just leave it at that,” I say rather harshly.
“Okay,” she stammers, shocked by my outburst.
Shit, I’m even surprised by how I’m acting.
“I’m sorry.” Although it’s an apology, my tone is still rough. “I need to… I’ll be back. I just need to leave for a minute. I’ll be back.” I walk away.
I need to clear my fucking head.
“Earth to Jenna,” Charlie shouts with a snap of her fingers.
“Yes?” I ask, but continue to stare out my bedroom window.
“Here I am trying to tell you how my vacation went and you’re ignoring me.” She huffs.
It’s Monday morning and I’m waiting for Logan to arrive for his work shift. He hasn’t responded to any of my text messages or phone calls this entire weekend. It’s as if he’s dropped off the face of the earth. Thursday night he seemed off. The way he walked away from me, and then when he returned, he said things came up and he needed to go.
After I questioned his behavior, he assured me things were fine. But I knew they weren’t. He didn’t look at me at all, and he kept his distance in the car when he drove me all the way home. When I asked him questions or tried to lighten the mood, his responses were short and curt even.
I don’t understand what I did wrong.
I thought maybe something bad had happened until Charlie stopped by and slept over last night, telling me all about her weekend at the lake house. She went straight there when she got back from vacation with her family, expecting to find me there. She mentioned how much fun the party this weekend was and how everyone—except me, of course—was there.
I questioned her about Logan, making sure to be discreet, to not sound like a pathetic stalker. She informed me he was, in fact, at the lake house this entire weekend. And not only was he present, but he was having the time of his life! She didn’t use those exact words, but that’s how I took it.
I’m furious. Here I am, worried sick that something might’ve happened to him, while he’s busy having the time of his life.
Charlie keeps going on and on, but I can’t hear a single word she says. My ears are blowing steam with the tick of each second that goes by as I wait for Logan to arrive.
And then, there he is.
He’s laughing and smiling with Santino as they walk across the lawn toward the site of the guesthouse. More laughter. What’s so damn funny anyway? Logan tosses his head back and howls in amusement again. This time whatever the joke is makes his body shake as he clenches his stomach. Are they laughing about me? How I spent the entire weekend stuck in my room, worrying about him? It’s all just one big joke.
That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. My stomach knots as anger settles in. I turn and storm out of the room. Charlie’s voice yells after me, but it’s coming from a distance. The only thing I can think of is Logan and the way he acted with me on Thursday and how perfectly fine he seems now. He’s a dick. How dare he treat me this way? I thought we were friends.
Finally through the sliding glass door—and with Logan’s back to me—I yell out, “Hey!” He turns around. The large smile on his face instantly wipes clean, but that doesn’t stop me. I continue forward, my fists clenched to my sides. He turns to Santino, mumbles something, and then Santino walks off. I reach him, but he won’t look at me. He just keeps his eyes averted. His presence hits me strong.
I missed him.
I hate him.
I lift a hand and point my finger into his chest, poking against the thin fabric of his T. “What. Is. Your. Problem?” With each word I say, I dig my nail into his chest.
He brushes his hand over his pecs where I touched, as if it didn’t faze him at all. This only adds fuel to my fire and makes me more pissed off. “No
thing. What’s yours?” he retorts without a single look my way.
“What have I done for you to be such a dick right now?”
“Jenna, I have work to do. I don’t have time for this.” He adjusts the tool belt hanging over his shoulder and turns to walk away.
I grip his exceptionally large bicep, my thin fingers tightly fighting to hold on. He turns back around; still he doesn’t look at me. “Logan why are you doing this? The past two months we were fine and now…now you’re a complete asshole. Is it something I said? Or did you find someone else?”
Did I say that out loud?
Blue flaming eyes finally meet mine. “Find someone else?” Yes, I did ask it out loud. “We were only friends, remember?”
“Were?” How can a simple four-letter word hurt so damn much? That word cuts through me like a knife, splitting me in half.
“What do you want from me, Jenna? You’re very confusing.”
“I’m confusing?”
Logan looks down, huffs out a large sharp breath, and then grabs the back of his neck, rubbing it furiously. I wait for him to say something, anything, but instead he looks up and around to see who’s nearby. Finally, he grabs my arm and drags me past the pool, past the guesthouse, and toward the far right of the yard, behind a large tree.
We’re hidden.
He presses my back against the trunk of the tree, drops his tool belt, and leans his body against mine. I look up at him, confused. My mouth opens so I can say something, anything to figure out what the hell is going on, but he quickly places a finger along my lips to shut me up. “Before you say anything at all, just let me think for a second.” Think? What does he need to think about? “Just let me say what I have to say first. Let me get it off my chest. Then you can say whatever you want. Okay?”
I nod.
His gaze falls to my mouth where his finger still rests. He traces the bow and curve of my lips, slowly, as if memorizing the shape of them. His touch feels warm, nice. The contact is… My breathing grows a bit ragged. Logan takes his other hand and runs his fingers through my hair, down my spine until his hand lands firmly at my lower back. “I’ve missed you all weekend,” he confesses.
“If you missed me, then why—”
His finger silences me again. “I had to see if what I’m feeling is because we’re spending so much time together or if it’s real. But what does it matter if it’s real or not? You won’t accept it,” he murmurs.
“Logan, I have no clue what you’re talking about. Just tell me what’s going on with you,” I beg.
“I’m falling for you. Hard. And it’s not some bullshit girl-next-door crush.” He stumbles back two steps. “I mean a real fucking hardcore, madly-sinking-for-you kind of fall. I don’t know.” He shakes his head, bewildered. No. He can’t be. I shake my head to tell him he’s not, but he nods. “Yes.”
“No. It’s just because we spend a lot of time together, Logan. You’re confused. Trust me, what you’re feeling—”
“Don’t tell me what I’m feeling!” His features distort into anger. He’s struggling with this and I’m just making it worse. I let him go on. “I know what I’m feeling. I’ve been dealing with it for a long time now. I just kept ignoring it. Do you think this is easy for me? To stand in front of you and pour out my feelings like some chick? I feel pathetic right now.” Logan bends his head, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead. “You’re the worst distraction I’ve ever had. You’re in all my thoughts, every single one. You have no idea how difficult it is to have something take over your mind like that. It’s confusing and suffocating at the same time.”
“You have no idea how much I know exactly what that’s like,” I say, my tone impassive.
Logan looks up. “Can you just do me a favor?” he asks.
I swallow back, staring at him, and then nod.
“Right now, right here—can you just be honest for once? I know I’m not the only one feeling this.” He waves a hand at the empty space between us. “If I’m wrong, then fine, but I know I’m not. I know this is mutual. I know you feel it too.”
I do feel it. I’ve felt it for a very long time now. For so long I just kept pushing it away, but I greedily kept Logan close. I want him for me, but I can’t give him all of me. I step forward, meeting him. He leans in closer too, our breath intermingling. I reach up, resting my hand along his jawline. I’m battling with this internal feeling, and as usual my mind wins over my heart. I shake my head and force sincerity into my tone. “I’m sorry, Logan. I do care for you but not in the same way.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Bullshit.”
My brows knit together. “Excuse me?”
He chuckles, his lips twitching into a firm, thin line. I pull my hand away. He shakes his head. “Fucking bullshit. You know what your problem is, Jenna? You’ve worked so hard building this wall to keep everyone out. But when there’s someone willing to tear down every brick because they want to be a part of your life, you freeze.
“You’re scared to let anyone in. Don’t push away the ones who care because in the end, there might be no one left, and you’ll have exactly what you always wanted—to be alone. Sometimes the best thing to do is to just let go. If you don’t, you’ll never experience what you could’ve had. Instead, you’ll wonder what if. And trust me, Jenna, when you’re stuck wondering what if, it’ll be too late for us.”
His words tackle me full force. They ignite a fury inside because they’re true. They’re all true and I hate him for it. “You don’t understand! There are things you don’t know about me.”
His arms swing in the air, frustration crashing between us. “Then tell me! Make me understand.”
“No! You’ll turn around and walk away. You’ll see me differently. You’ll—”
“Will you stop telling me how you think I’ll react and give me the benefit of the doubt? Fuck! If I haven’t proven myself to you in the last two months, then what have you learned about me at all?”
I swallow, not saying a word. How can I? What can I possibly say to change all of this?
“Do you realize what you’re doing right now?”
I shake my head.
“You’re treating me like one of your paintings. I’m human and I have feelings, Jenna. You can’t just stuff me into a fucking cardboard box in hopes that everything will be fine. I’m here, standing in front of you, asking you to give us a shot, asking you to tell me everything and trust in me. But you just keep pulling away and shoving me aside.”
Silence. Every word he speaks swims around in my head. Deeper. Further. Faster. Each word loud and clear. I’m speechless. My anxiety kicks up as fear creeps in. He’s going to walk away once I tell him.
“I have another side of me, a darker side. You wouldn’t understand,” I whisper, bowing my head in shame. Tears prickle the rims of my eyes.
He huffs out, arms slamming to his side. “Everyone has a dark side. Everyone has secrets. Everyone suffers from something. You think in the past couple of months I didn’t know you were keeping something from me? I know there’s something you struggle with, but I waited and I was patient for a long time. I’m not going to judge you. I’m not going to walk away. The moment you realize that I’m not going anywhere, no matter what happened in your past, the better it’ll be for us to just get over this hump.”
I laugh, sniffing back the tears, and look up. “That’s just the thing, Logan. It’s not a past issue.” I walk up to him, and our bodies almost touch. My head bends back so I can look him square in the eye. “My issue, my dark side, my problems…they’re present. They’re now. They are front and center.”
“I’m not going to give up on what we have over whatever you’re dealing with. We can take care of it together,” he says, his voice adamant.
“I know you’ll give up,” I disclose.
He shakes his head, frustrated and angry and completely fed up. “I’m tired of this. None of this makes sense to me. Stop this bouncing back and forth and just tell
me. If you don’t tell me everything, and I mean everything that’s going on with you, the feelings you have for me—everything—I’ll walk. Right now. And as fucked-up as I’ll be over it, I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep playing these guessing games with you.”
“I won’t tell you…”
Logan laughs, his shoulders deflating. He looks me straight in the eyes, long and hard, and then turns on his boots, treading away.
“I’ll show you,” I yell out, my heart racing.
He stops, his back still facing me. I quickly go after him and walk around to stand before him, meeting his gaze. “Fine, Logan. I’ll give you everything you want to know. All of it. The way I feel for you. My issues. But I can’t just say it. It’s better if I show you.”
His features are stern, not giving in. I’m sure he doesn’t believe it. “Meet me here tomorrow at eight in the morning.”
“I have to work.”
“Do you want to know?”
He nods after a few seconds in thought.
“Then call out sick or something. Meet me here at eight in the morning, and I’ll take you where we need to go. By the end of tomorrow, you’ll have all of your answers. And if you want me afterward,” I choke back on the words, knowing he won’t, “then at least you’ll know the truth.”
He nods. “All right. Okay. I’ll be here at eight tomorrow morning.” Logan presses his lips together to say one more thing, but I don’t let him.
Instead, I turn around, walking past the lawn and the pool, through the sliding doors, and back up the stairs. Charlie’s still in my room, cozy on my bed. She looks up from a magazine she’s reading and raises a questioning brow.
“I’m going to tell Logan everything tomorrow.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asks.
“He deserves to know, Charlie. I just hope after he finally knows it all, he’ll be okay.”
“I’m not worried about Logan,” she says, placing the magazine aside. “I’m worried about you.”
At 7:50 a.m. I pull up in front of Jenna’s house. I cut the engine, lean my head back, and look out the passenger window, facing the double-door entrance where Jenna will soon exit from. My eyes are heavy and my head aches from lack of sleep. The entire night my head was spinning with what to expect today. Jenna says by tonight I’ll have all of my questions answered, and if in the end I don’t want her anymore, then at least I’ll know the truth. What pisses me off is that I had to wait this long. The curiosity is ripping at me, and I hate that I have to wait another minute to know it all.
