More Than Him
Page 15
Without realizing, my hands came up to rest flat on his back. I felt his fingers curl into me, holding me tighter. I shut my eyes and let myself have this moment, this last moment with me in his arms. I wanted to remember this, savor it, drown in it. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed back the tears.
And that's how we stayed.
It could've been hours, it could've been seconds—it didn't matter. Time didn't exist.
We pulled back simultaneously. He sniffed once, and wiped his eyes quickly. Then his red-stained eyes met mine with an intensity that knocked me back a step. He leaned forward, wet his lips and placed them on my forehead. It was warm, and soft, and everything I remembered from the past. He cupped my cheek and pulled back slightly, but not enough that I could see him. Then I heard him speak, his voice low, but clear, "Goodbye, pretty girl."
He stepped back, turned around and walked away.
And I watched him.
I got in my car, put it into gear, pulled away from the curb, turned a corner, parked on the side of the road, and let it out.
All of it.
I love him.
I still fucking love him.
I couldn't control the sobs that shook my body. I'd cried for Logan in the past, but I didn't cry for Logan in the present, or in the future. And now he was here.
I would not let him break me.
After a few minutes, I tried to regain control of myself. I pulled out my phone to message Ethan, and let him know I was fine. He was okay with me having more freedom, as long as he knew where I was. I think it helped that he'd started officially dating Alexis a few months earlier and wanted to spend some alone time with her. I also think she’d helped persuade him to give me a little space. She was over most weekends, or he was there with her. It worked, and I couldn't be happier for them. I'm glad they finally found each other. She was exactly what he needed to stop whoring around. I laughed to myself, wondering if Logan's friends had ever thought that about me.
Fucking Logan.
I started crying again. My head hit the steering wheel, and the horn sounded. I jerked up in surprise. Then a knocking on my window made me squeal. I reached in my bag for the mace before turning around to find the person responsible.
Logan.
He was wearing his sweater again with the hood over his head. I wound down my window, a little suspicious of why he was here. "Are you following me?"
His eyes narrowed. "I could ask you the same thing."
"What?"
He jerked his head to the building behind him, but his eyes never left mine. "I live here."
"You all good, man?" a guy behind him asked. He had a girl under his arm. The girl had bleached blonde hair, dreadlocks and piercings. They were the type of people you'd expect to see at Twiggy's party. I guess that's how Logan ended up at a place like that. "I'm good," he told them. "You guys head in." He turned to me and spoke, concern dripping from his words, "Are you okay? I mean—have you been crying?"
I sighed. "Yeah. I mean no. I'm not okay, and yes, I have been crying." I didn't see the point in lying.
He straightened to full height. "Because of me?"
"Yes."
He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, his eyes cast downwards. "Do you—I mean—do you want to talk about it? About what happened to us?"
I shook my head out of habit, but then I calmed down enough to think about it. Maybe I needed to speak to him. Maybe I needed some form of closure. "Okay," I whispered.
"What?" he asked. His head jerked up in surprise.
"I think that might be a good idea, you know . . . closure and all."
"Closure." He repeated my words as if tossing the idea around in his head. "Okay."
I grabbed a sweater from the back seat and put it on, making sure to cover my wrists. He opened my door and helped me step out.
"Closure," I heard him whisper.
9
Amanda
"The elevator’s broken, we're gonna have to hoof it five floors." He smirked at me. "Are you going to be okay, or do you want me to carry you?"
"Ha ha," I said, pulling the sleeves of my sweater past my fingers. "I'll have you know I've started working out." I raised my eyebrows at him.
"Aaah." He had a knowing look on his face.
"What?"
"Nothing." He shook his head slightly and motioned for me to go ahead of him on the stairs.
I took five steps up before I turned to him. "What do—" My words cut off when I noticed his gaze lift to mine. His eyes were wide, as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't be. Then it hit me. I glared at him. "Were you just looking at my ass?"
He chuckled, low at first, and then it turned in to an all out laugh. "I'm sorry," he managed to get out. "I'm still a guy, and you—you're still smokin' hot." I don't know what emotion showed on my face, but his smile disappeared. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I won't say stuff like that again." He swallowed and took two steps forward, until we were on the same step. "See, I won't perv. Promise."
We made the rest of the way to the fifth floor in silence. The building was old, not what I'd expect Logan to live in, not with the money I knew he had. We stopped in the middle of the hallway when we saw the same couple from outside making out in front of a door, the guy was trying to get his key in the hole while he pressed the girl into it. Logan laughed under his breath and walked over to the couple. I stayed close behind him. "Yo, Eli." Logan tried to get his attention. They didn't break apart; they didn't even notice he was there. He put his hands on the guy's shoulders and moved him across the hall. "Wrong door, guys," he told them, before moving back to where the couple had just been. He pulled keys out of his pocket, unlocked and pushed the door open, and then motioned for me to enter.
I did.
The apartment was simple, to say the least. A kitchen on the left, living/bedroom and that was basically it. He had a sofa bed, and his bags and boxes were still unpacked. "This is . . . nice," I told him.
He laughed. "This will do," he replied.
I turned in a circle, taking it in. "So, it's like a studio apartment?" I motioned towards his sofa bed.
His eyes narrowed, as if confused. "Oh, no. There are two bedrooms down the hall." He pointed to a hallway I hadn't seen yet.
I shifted on my feet. "So, you have housemates?" It was my turn to be confused.
"No." He opened the fridge and stared at the contents.
"So, you sleep on the floor of the living room because . . ." I waited for him to finish my sentence.
He closed the fridge door, turned, and leaned against it, and then exhaled loudly. "Because I have this thing with needing to be able to see and hear the front door," he confessed.
Our eyes locked, focused on each other, as if doing so for long enough would help me understand what he meant. Or maybe it might make it easier to explain why we were both here together, but not together.
Finally, I looked away, not being able to handle the intensity in his gaze. My eyes roamed around the little space he'd created for himself. Even with the boxes and bags everywhere, it was still neat. Everything had its place. There were piles of clothes in the corner of the room, but they too were folded and stacked perfectly. Apart from those items, the apartment was empty. There were no personal touches, no decorations, no lamps, no pictures; nothing.
And that's how we stayed.
It could've been hours, it could've been seconds—it didn't matter. Time didn't exist.
We pulled back simultaneously. He sniffed once, and wiped his eyes quickly. Then his red-stained eyes met mine with an intensity that knocked me back a step. He leaned forward, wet his lips and placed them on my forehead. It was warm, and soft, and everything I remembered from the past. He cupped my cheek and pulled back slightly, but not enough that I could see him. Then I heard him speak, his voice low, but clear, "Goodbye, pretty girl."
He stepped back, turned around and walked away.
And I watched him.
I got in my car, put it into gear, pulled away from the curb, turned a corner, parked on the side of the road, and let it out.
All of it.
I love him.
I still fucking love him.
I couldn't control the sobs that shook my body. I'd cried for Logan in the past, but I didn't cry for Logan in the present, or in the future. And now he was here.
I would not let him break me.
After a few minutes, I tried to regain control of myself. I pulled out my phone to message Ethan, and let him know I was fine. He was okay with me having more freedom, as long as he knew where I was. I think it helped that he'd started officially dating Alexis a few months earlier and wanted to spend some alone time with her. I also think she’d helped persuade him to give me a little space. She was over most weekends, or he was there with her. It worked, and I couldn't be happier for them. I'm glad they finally found each other. She was exactly what he needed to stop whoring around. I laughed to myself, wondering if Logan's friends had ever thought that about me.
Fucking Logan.
I started crying again. My head hit the steering wheel, and the horn sounded. I jerked up in surprise. Then a knocking on my window made me squeal. I reached in my bag for the mace before turning around to find the person responsible.
Logan.
He was wearing his sweater again with the hood over his head. I wound down my window, a little suspicious of why he was here. "Are you following me?"
His eyes narrowed. "I could ask you the same thing."
"What?"
He jerked his head to the building behind him, but his eyes never left mine. "I live here."
"You all good, man?" a guy behind him asked. He had a girl under his arm. The girl had bleached blonde hair, dreadlocks and piercings. They were the type of people you'd expect to see at Twiggy's party. I guess that's how Logan ended up at a place like that. "I'm good," he told them. "You guys head in." He turned to me and spoke, concern dripping from his words, "Are you okay? I mean—have you been crying?"
I sighed. "Yeah. I mean no. I'm not okay, and yes, I have been crying." I didn't see the point in lying.
He straightened to full height. "Because of me?"
"Yes."
He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, his eyes cast downwards. "Do you—I mean—do you want to talk about it? About what happened to us?"
I shook my head out of habit, but then I calmed down enough to think about it. Maybe I needed to speak to him. Maybe I needed some form of closure. "Okay," I whispered.
"What?" he asked. His head jerked up in surprise.
"I think that might be a good idea, you know . . . closure and all."
"Closure." He repeated my words as if tossing the idea around in his head. "Okay."
I grabbed a sweater from the back seat and put it on, making sure to cover my wrists. He opened my door and helped me step out.
"Closure," I heard him whisper.
9
Amanda
"The elevator’s broken, we're gonna have to hoof it five floors." He smirked at me. "Are you going to be okay, or do you want me to carry you?"
"Ha ha," I said, pulling the sleeves of my sweater past my fingers. "I'll have you know I've started working out." I raised my eyebrows at him.
"Aaah." He had a knowing look on his face.
"What?"
"Nothing." He shook his head slightly and motioned for me to go ahead of him on the stairs.
I took five steps up before I turned to him. "What do—" My words cut off when I noticed his gaze lift to mine. His eyes were wide, as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't be. Then it hit me. I glared at him. "Were you just looking at my ass?"
He chuckled, low at first, and then it turned in to an all out laugh. "I'm sorry," he managed to get out. "I'm still a guy, and you—you're still smokin' hot." I don't know what emotion showed on my face, but his smile disappeared. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I won't say stuff like that again." He swallowed and took two steps forward, until we were on the same step. "See, I won't perv. Promise."
We made the rest of the way to the fifth floor in silence. The building was old, not what I'd expect Logan to live in, not with the money I knew he had. We stopped in the middle of the hallway when we saw the same couple from outside making out in front of a door, the guy was trying to get his key in the hole while he pressed the girl into it. Logan laughed under his breath and walked over to the couple. I stayed close behind him. "Yo, Eli." Logan tried to get his attention. They didn't break apart; they didn't even notice he was there. He put his hands on the guy's shoulders and moved him across the hall. "Wrong door, guys," he told them, before moving back to where the couple had just been. He pulled keys out of his pocket, unlocked and pushed the door open, and then motioned for me to enter.
I did.
The apartment was simple, to say the least. A kitchen on the left, living/bedroom and that was basically it. He had a sofa bed, and his bags and boxes were still unpacked. "This is . . . nice," I told him.
He laughed. "This will do," he replied.
I turned in a circle, taking it in. "So, it's like a studio apartment?" I motioned towards his sofa bed.
His eyes narrowed, as if confused. "Oh, no. There are two bedrooms down the hall." He pointed to a hallway I hadn't seen yet.
I shifted on my feet. "So, you have housemates?" It was my turn to be confused.
"No." He opened the fridge and stared at the contents.
"So, you sleep on the floor of the living room because . . ." I waited for him to finish my sentence.
He closed the fridge door, turned, and leaned against it, and then exhaled loudly. "Because I have this thing with needing to be able to see and hear the front door," he confessed.
Our eyes locked, focused on each other, as if doing so for long enough would help me understand what he meant. Or maybe it might make it easier to explain why we were both here together, but not together.
Finally, I looked away, not being able to handle the intensity in his gaze. My eyes roamed around the little space he'd created for himself. Even with the boxes and bags everywhere, it was still neat. Everything had its place. There were piles of clothes in the corner of the room, but they too were folded and stacked perfectly. Apart from those items, the apartment was empty. There were no personal touches, no decorations, no lamps, no pictures; nothing.
