“I don’t… I just thought maybe…”
“You’re being ridiculous. I didn’t decide to do any of this out of some sense of obligation. I’m helping you and letting you stay with me because I want to. Don’t ever think you’re some burden to me. You’re not, and you never will be. Okay?” At that, he reaches over and takes my hand in his, glancing at me before pulling his hand from mine and returning his eyes to the road.
I feel the same pang of guilt and embarrassment as I always have whenever his family has paid for a dance lesson, or supported me in some way I didn’t deserve. But I also feel the very unfamiliar feeling of security I’ve started getting used to this weekend. I nod my head.
He pulls up outside my house, and by the sudden drop of his face, it is clear my father’s car in the driveway has not escaped his notice. I start to open the door when he stops me. “I don’t like that he’s here.”
“Logan, if he’s here he’s not out getting drunk. He usually keeps it pretty low key on Sunday nights because he has to work early on Mondays. Please don’t worry about this. I have to see him.”
“I just don’t like it.”
“It will be okay. I promise. I know how to get hold of you, and I will call you if there is any problem.”
“Damn it. If you were at my place, I wouldn’t have to worry about this.”
“Sara is picking me up tomorrow morning for class, and I need to be here. I’ve agreed to stay with you when I need to, but I can’t just because he happens to be home. He lives here. I can’t avoid him completely. You know that.”
“Yeah, well I don’t have to like it.” He reaches up and puts a gentle hand on my cheek, running over the corner of my mouth with his fingers, his brow furrowing. “Row, just promise me. Just … say it. Don’t take any risks with him.”
“I promise.” I look at him a moment longer before hopping out of the car, and as I cut across the lot I can feel his eyes watching me; I know he is unhappy.
The rest of the evening passes without incident, and I take advantage of the quiet to catch up on homework. At ten-fifteen, the cell phone Logan gave me starts to ring. I know it must be him because I’ve not given the number to anyone yet.
I answer, and I instantly recognize the worry in his voice. “Hi. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”
“Everything is fine. I’m just getting ready to go to bed.”
“Okay. Call if you need anything.”
“I will. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I wish I was at his place in that nice, big, warm bed or better yet, his bed.
Chapter 5
The next weeks pass in quick succession. I begin looking forward to every minute I get to spend with Logan and find I all too desperately look forward to the nights when my father is off on a binge. When I’m with Logan at his apartment, it is comfortable yet intense. Logan loves to cook, and I’ve learned to love spending time with him in the kitchen, laughing, chatting, and debating anything and everything worth debating. Logan loves to challenge me at any chance he gets, perhaps a habit he’s picked up from law school. And I never hesitate to rise to the challenge. He is smart, and the more I talk to him, the more intelligent I realize he is.
My birthday has come with the chill of winter, and like all others before it, it did not include even the utterance of a congratulations from my father. The Harringtons, on the other hand, bought me flowers and a very generous gift card to the mall—naturally, Sara commandeered the gift card and dragged my reluctant butt with her for her very most favorite activity in the world: shopping. And when I arrived at Logan’s later that night after returning to a darkened trailer, signaling that my father was celebrating the blessed day at the bar with anyone but me, I arrived to the sweet smell of baking. A cake was laid out on the table awaiting my arrival. Logan, with a slight sheepishness to his voice, admitted he’d seen my father’s car parked at the bar on his way to the grocery store. Like everything else he cooks and, quite frankly, everything else he does, the cake was perfect. So, I guess I’m now an adult. Yet I feel just as naïve, immature, and helpless as I always have.
In addition to ushering in the celebration of my very insignificant entrance to the world, the change of the season has brought the arrival of winter, and this north country town is beautiful this time of year, blanketed in thick snow that clings to the abundant trees, creating the most beautiful, peaceful world. Life has become peaceful in and of itself by virtue of my new place in it. I’ve always known Logan to be a good person, but the more time I spend with him, the more I see what an amazing man he really is. I find myself more and more drawn to him as time goes on. Not just his looks, he’s always been handsome, but his whole persona. He’s confident, at times demanding, but kind and gentle all the same. I find myself loving his choice of music, his intelligence, his clothes, his smell. Every last thing about him arouses intimate thoughts. I could no more than hear a song on the radio I’ve heard while at his place than immediately be stuck with him in my head. I truly am a pathetic kid drooling after some popular, good-looking kid who is far out of my league.
I join the Harringtons on their final trip to the lake house to ready it for winter. Logan decides at the last minute to join us, and I fantasize it is me that beckons his presence. I know it’s not, but what can I say; I’m a daydreamer by nature. Working around the lake house with his family is far more fun than I would have ever imagined physical labor could be. I can’t stop looking at Logan every time he’s around me and somehow manage to fall off a stepstool in the kitchen when he suddenly enters. I fall ridiculously to the floor. And as Logan pulls me to my feet, never taking his eyes off mine, I can’t help but notice that his touch lingers just slightly too long, our bodies just marginally too close, and his eyes just a bit too intense. No one else is around, and the shared look between us is palpable to my perception.
As Ronnie suddenly appears, we both find ourselves startled, and while I struggle for composure and pray for the flush of my cheeks to cool, I think I catch the same look of discomfort on Logan’s face. Ronnie, bright and carefree as usual, is caught off guard and appraises us for only a moment before she dismisses the situation and returns to her errand. She seems not to have noticed the tension in the room at all. I’m sure it was just in my head.
We return to the city on Sunday night, and as Logan drives me home, he casually, and without looking at me, asks that I spend the night at his apartment. Applying that same overly contrived casualty, I agree. We say nothing as we hike up the flight of stairs to his apartment. And when inside, he throws in a CD, one of many I now solely associate with him, and that seems to penetrate me and create my entire mood. I stand around uncomfortable for some time, still unsure why I’m here on this night. It is Sunday, and there is no good reason for me to have agreed to stay. For that matter, no good reason for Logan to have asked. He flops down on the couch, flipping through a magazine and obviously not nearly as off kilter as I. Naturally, I continue to meander about, unsure of myself.
But eventually I work up the nerve to speak. “Logan…”
He interrupts. “Given the fact you're pacing about, I’m going to hazard a guess you're wondering why I’ve asked you to stay. Am I right?” He gives me a knowing glance over the top of his magazine.
Of course he’s right. “Well, it’s not that really, just that I … um…” So much for playing it cool.
He gives me a quirky look as I attempt nonchalance. “I just wanted the company.”
“Oh. I suppose Amy had plans tonight or…”