“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. “Nothing. 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.