by Hazel Kelly
“Do you want me to carry that for a few minutes?” I asked, noticing how unusually stuffed it was.
“No, thanks,” he said, smiling at me in a way that made my insides turn to mush before veering down the left side of the forked path towards the English Garden.
It really was a beautiful park, and I could see why it always got a mention in campus brochures. Compared to the bustling college town on its doorstep, it was surprisingly peaceful and full of secluded places to enjoy nature.
Not that I had any interest in being alone right now. On the contrary, being with Logan was all I could think about. I mean, I was excited to enjoy his company on our date and everything, but it was his touch I felt starved for.
I wanted to see that look in his eye from last weekend, the one that made me feel sexy and wanted and powerful. Perhaps Nina was right. After all, it wasn’t vulnerability I felt with him, especially now that he knew my feelings. It was something else, something between boldness and bliss that made me feel like I could fly or lift cars or hold bolts of lightning in my bare hands.
“Mmm,” I said, a whiff of cherry blossoms filling my nose.
Logan looked over his shoulder as if he was worried we were being followed, and his focused expression piqued my curiosity enough that I, too, began looking over my shoulder. In fact, I nearly bumped into him when he slowed down beside a wall of tightly groomed hedges.
But he didn’t even notice. He was too busy studying the hedge like a crazy person until, suddenly, satisfaction lifted his face. “There’s no way but through,” he said. “Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“This is the spot,” he said, pointing at the impenetrably thick hedge. “Close your eyes so they don’t get whacked.” Before I could respond, he speared his hands, ducked his head, and pushed through the bush, his body disappearing first, followed by his backpack.
I stared at the dark green leaves that took his place, which stilled as if nothing had happened.
“C’mon,” he said a second later, proving that I hadn’t imagined the whole thing. “What are you waiting for?”
As if triggered by the sound of his voice, my eyes relaxed until the narrow passage materialized before me like one of the Magic Eye Puzzles I used to do as a kid. Now I could clearly see that while the leaves in front of me were the same deep green as the rest of the high hedge, they were a slightly different shape, as if they belonged to another plant entirely.
Logan’s hand reached through the bush.
I took a breath and grabbed it, ducking my head and squeezing my eyes shut right before he pulled me through the wall, inviting a hundred sharp branches to scrape my skin, snag my clothes, and mess up my hair until I broke through the other side and…
I gasped when I saw the small clearing, which was framed by sunset-colored flowerbeds and partially shaded by an old oak tree outside the hedge walls.
“You okay?” Logan asked, pulling a leaf out of my hair.
“What is this place?”
“It’s a secret garden,” he said. “As promised.”
I was speechless. Being Logan’s secret girl in his secret garden was like a fairy tale I wasn’t ready for. Like showing up for your first day of work at the Magic Kingdom and finding out you’re going to be a princess in the parade.
“Help me set up the blanket,” he said. “So we can get some wine into you.”
“Good idea,” I said, thinking wine would be a welcome change after weeks of nothing but keggers and double vodka shots at the Barnacle Club.
Logan pulled a thin blanket from his bag, and I was relieved to see it wasn’t very big, since any excuse to sit closer to him felt like a gift these days.
He laid it out and invited me to sit as he dropped to his knees.
“How about that wine?” I asked, tugging my jean skirt down as I sank onto the soft blue blanket.
“Should I even bother with the cups I brought?” he asked, reaching into his bag. “Or would you rather swig from the bottle?”
“A cup would be great,” I said, my eyes growing wide when I saw the wine he brought. I recognized it from the expensive shelf of the wine aisle, the one my mom shopped from only when her best friend from college was in town.
As Logan poured, I wondered if she would approve of how I was spending the evening. There was no question that she would think this was a beautiful setting for a date, but it was hard to know how her opinion might change if she knew who my suitor was. Then again, she loved Logan like he was her own son, like he’d been part of the family far longer than just a few years. So why shouldn’t she want him to be with someone who could make him happy?
Not that I knew I could be that person, but I knew I wanted to try. I knew a glimpse of his smile made my heart feel as light as music, and his touch made my skin burn the way it does from the sun’s rays on a warm summer day. There were no two ways about it. My feelings for him were poetry. Plain and simple and sweet as any sonnet I’d ever heard.
But this was the kind of thing that happened to other people, not me. The kind of thing that happened once in a lifetime if you were lucky, not on your first date. Seriously, where the hell could we go from here?!
“Thanks,” I said, taking the small plastic cup from him so his hands were free to fill another. “I’d like to propose a toast.”
He screwed the lid back on the bottle and set it beside his backpack.
“When you’re ready.”
“Sure,” he said, raising his glass.
“To you,” I said, finding his blue eyes.
He pulled his glass away. “We’re not toasting to me. If anything, we’re toasting to you.”
I shook my head. “Absolutely not. You deserve to be commended for planning this delightful surprise.”
“Fine,” he said, knocking his cup against mine. “To me.”
I smiled and watched his Adam’s apple move with his first sip.
“I would’ve waited to see the menu first,” he said, licking his lips. “If it were me.”
“Logan.”
The sound of his name seemed to sober him for a moment, and his eyes dropped to my mouth before flicking up to mine.
“Even if there’s nothing but wine in that bag, this is already the best date I’ve ever been on in my whole life.”
His leaned back on his arms as he studied my face.
“Truly. I’m not just saying that.”
He shook his head, the hint of a scowl showing through.
“Don’t make that face. I meant that as a compliment.”
“I know,” he said. “It just doesn’t make sense. You deserve so much more than this.”
I pressed my lips together.
“I don’t understand how someone else didn’t swoop in and steal your heart before now.”
“Can I be honest with you?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“I think it’s my fault.”
He narrowed his eyes at me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever made myself… available.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was always hung up on someone.” I hoped he would read between the lines, but as he stared at me, the lump in my throat swelled so much I thought my emotions might overwhelm me.
“Who were you hung up on?” he asked. “I can’t remember you ever mentioning anyone.”
“That’s because you were the last person on earth I would’ve told.”
His lips twitched with frustration.
I couldn’t believe he wasn’t getting it. “Logan. It was you.”
His eyebrows jumped up his forehead. “What?”
“I was hung up on you.”
“No, you weren’t.”
I cocked my head and waited for my words to sink in.
“Since when?”
Didn’t he remember that party? I tried to drop hints all night that my feelings for him were complicated. Then again, that was the same night he and Piper had their first kiss, so I guess he was distracted. G
od, I probably bored him the whole time we were talking. “Since the beginning.”
He looked somewhat disturbed.
“Since the day you came home with my dad.”
His brow furrowed under the weight of his thoughts before he spoke again. “I remember.”
“Remember what?”
“Meeting you,” he said. “And how you stared at me from across the table.”
My stomach twisted. “I hope I didn’t make you feel awkward.”
“You didn’t,” he said. “You just caught me off-guard.”
“How do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I thought I was good at blending in before I met you.”
I squinted at him.
“But no matter how much I tried not to call attention to myself, it felt like I never disappeared from your view.”
I bit the inside of my cheek.
“In a good way.”
I exhaled the breath I was holding. “As long as I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“You did,” he said. “You still do.”
My heart sank.
“But, again, in a good way.”
I hugged my arms. “I don’t understand how that could possibly be good.”
“Maybe I can explain.”
“Please,” I said, feeling like I’d just been called out for years of obnoxious gawking.
“The way I see it, there are two ways people can choose to live.”
I pulled my knees to my chest.
“You can live with a focus on death,” he said, swirling his wine in his cup. “In which case you make your decisions based on the good stuff you hope to be met with after the final curtain.”
“Right.”
“Or you can live with a focus on the life you’re lucky enough to have now, in which case you make whatever decisions will most mitigate your suffering and maximize your pleasure before the lights go out.”
“Okaaayy.”
“Personally,” he said. “I belong to the second group.”
I bit my tongue, hoping he would elaborate.
“I have no reason to think my future will contain fewer difficulties than my past and no reason to think life is going to get any easier for anybody on this sick hunk of spinning rock any time soon. And yet, the kind of uncomfortable I feel around you makes me grateful not only for my next breath, but for tomorrow and the next day, and every tedious day after that.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“To put it simply, the kind of uncomfortable you make me is the best feeling I’ve ever had.”
T H I R T Y F O U R
- Logan -
I could tell by the look on her face that I’d said too much. Way too much.
“I don’t really know what to say to that,” she said, her big eyes searching mine.
My cheeks burned. “You don’t need to say anything. I was ranting like a crazy person. Forget I said anything.”
“I don’t want to. I’m glad you said it.”
The tightness in my chest lifted.
“I am a little unsettled, though, since the last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Maybe I didn’t explain myself well,” I said. “It really is a good thing.”
“If you say so.”
“You keep me from going through the motions,” I said, pushing a strand of sun-bleached hair out of her face. “You keep things exciting.”
She blushed as I cupped her soft cheek.
“Look at me.”
Her black lashes flicked up.
“I’m fucking crazy about you, Zo. That’s all I meant.”
“I’m fucking crazy about you, too.” She leaned forward and kissed me, igniting a fire in my belly before whispering against my lips. “It’s so much better than being just crazy.”
I laughed and dropped my forehead against hers. “Or crazed with hunger.”
“Speaking of which,” she said, her breath still tangled in mine in a way that was making my heart pound. “Why don’t you show me the goods already?”
“Of course.” I broke from her personal space and dragged the backpack over.
“And while you’re at it,” she added. “I’d love to know how you stumbled on this place, because I’m still half-convinced I’m dreaming.
“I know the feeling,” I said, pulling out a stack of round, plastic trays, the sight of which made her eyes double in size. “I always feel like that when I come here.”
“Wow,” she said. “I was expecting take-out subs.”
I scowled at her.
“Not that Subway would be the first thing I’d pair with this wine, which is delicious by the way.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I said, spreading the trays out in front of us. “Hopefully you’ll like the food I got as well.”
Her eyes passed from the mixed berries to the vegetable tray to the one with the cured meats and cheeses. “It’s official,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m obviously dreaming.”
I pulled the fresh baguette out next, which I’d cut in half so it would fit in my bag, and laid it next to the trays. Then I dug to the bottom for the knife and the small, spreadable butter I bought for the occasion.
“Wow,” she said. “This is perfect.”
“Dig in,” I said, extending a palm towards the mini buffet.
She reached for the berries first, her delicate fingers plucking them out carefully before a moan escaped her throat a moment later. Then she shoved the small tub in my direction so I could help myself. “Are you picking out the blueberries?” she asked, eyeing me.
“I like them best.”
“You really do like your blue balls, huh?”
I whipped my head towards her. “Not funny.”
“Does that mean we won’t be repeating what happened last week later?”
“Don’t tease me for trying to be a gentleman.”
She scoffed. “Gentlemen don’t talk like you do behind closed doors.”
“You have a problem with the way I talk?”
“Not at all,” she said, dropping some berries into her mouth. “But I do have a problem with you being a tease.”
I laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“The idea that I’m a tease.”
“Hey,” she said, lifting her palms. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”
“Fair enough,” I said, cracking open the meat and cheese platter. “But you might change your tune later when I’m teasing your lips with my dick.”
Her whole face went bright red.
“Anyway, you were asking how I found out about this place?”
She nodded, still visibly stunned by my forwardness.
I leaned closer and fixed my eyes on hers before lowering my voice. “Relax, Zo. I’m only going to do that if it’s what you want. And there’s no rush, okay? I’m happy to wait until you’re ready.”
“That is what I want,” she said, nodding softly as she licked her lips. “It is.”
My cock surged at the promise, but I leaned away, hoping she understood that I only said that dirty stuff to turn her on, not to pressure her or make her uncomfortable… even if filling her with my cock was bound to do just that.
“So,” she said, seeming calmer after the elephant in the garden was addressed. “How did you find this place?”
“You know how I stayed down for summer school this year?” Because I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you, of seeing you side with her.
“Yeah.”
“Well, part of the reason I did that was so I could take a landscape design course that’s only offered during summer term.”
“That must’ve been an easy A after all those years working with my dad,” she said, folding a hunk of bread around some brie.
“It was, yeah, and the professor was really impressed with my experience and some of my ideas.”
“No surprise there.”
Her confidence in my abilities was encouraging in a way I was st
arved for. “Anyway, to make a long story short, he’s responsible for designing and maintaining the gardens in this park.”
“Wow.”
“That’s what I said when I found out.” I buttered a piece of bread and laid some sliced prosciutto across it. “Along with telling him to call if he ever needed any help with anything.”
“And he did?”
“How did you know?”
“‘Cause any idiot would be psyched to score your number.”
A smile tugged at my lips. “I think he was more psyched about the free labor, but I helped him out a few times nonetheless, and one day he showed me this place.”
“Did he make it for himself?” she asked, admiring the nearest patch of marigolds.
“I think he wanted the challenge more than anything,” I said. “But he did ask me not to spread the word since the entry hedge would suffer from too much traffic coming and going.”
“Well, thanks for sharing it with me.”
“Of course.” Who else would I share it with? No one else was special enough. No one else would get how special it was. But Zoey really seemed to, and that meant a lot.
“It’s absolutely beautiful.”
Like you, I thought, my heart swelling. “Oh, by the way.” I reached in the front pocket of my bag and pulled out the candy bars I bought at the last minute. “Before I forget,” I said, fanning them out in front of her. “I wasn’t sure what you liked since you couldn’t eat any of these for so long.”
She groaned at the memory of her braces. “Don’t remind me.”
“But I figured you might want something sweet for dessert.”
“Oh, I definitely want dessert,” she said, eyeing the selection before lifting her gaze. “But I had something else in mind.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh? What?”
“Well,” she said, topping up her wine. “My roommate’s out for the night soo…”
“So what?” I asked, getting my hopes up.
“I thought I might invite you up later.”
“Is that so?” I asked. “And what the hell could we possibly find to do in your tiny matchbox of a room?”
“C’mon now,” she said, a mischievous smile lifting her eyes. “You’re not the only one who’s full of surprises.”
T H I R T Y F I V E
