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.
“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.”