Page 40 of The Write Off

I stand there, frozen in place for a full minute staring at the door to apartment 2C. My brain tells my body to start walking to the elevator, but my feet refuse to comply. I don’t want to leave things like this.

With a heavy heart and heavier feet, I make myself turn and start down the hall. I knew crossing this line with Rilla was a gamble, but I truly believed the odds would be in my favor. Leaving now, like this, feels like turning the last page of a beloved book, reluctant to admit that this is really the end.

I press the down button and the doors open immediately, as though the elevator knew I’d fail and was waiting for me. Instead of stepping in, I stand there thinking of all the things I could have and should have said to her.

Things I still can say to her.

I do a one-eighty turn, leaving the elevator empty and waiting. When I reach her door, I knock loudly and hold my breath.

The door opens almost immediately to reveal a confused looking Rilla. Was she waiting on the other side, hoping I’d come back? “Did you forget something?”

“I did.” I step through the doorway and kiss her. She doesn’t hesitate to kiss me back, her body melting against mine. It feels like a reset. Like the last awkward five minutes didn’t happen and we’re right where we should be. I break the kiss before I’m ready, leaning down to rest my forehead against hers. “Have coffee with me tomorrow morning?”

“Okay.” She seems mildly disoriented by either my return or the kiss. Perhaps both. She straightens her shoulders and takes a step back away from me. “To talk about the book?”

“No, Rilla. I don’t want to discuss the book.” I lean on the door frame, trying to read her. She looks how I feel, a mixture of confusion and hopefulness in her expression. “We’re not going to pretend this didn’t happen. It happened. I’m glad it happened and I want us to focus on what happens next. So take tonight and think about what you want. I’ll do the same.”

She worries her bottom lip, considering my proposal. “What if we want different things?”

I release the breath I was holding and give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Then we want different things. And we’ll figure out what comes next together.”

She nods but still looks uncertain. “Sure. That makes sense, I guess.”

“Tomorrow at South Street Diner? Ten o’clock?”

“Yes. I want pancakes.”

This woman.

“You can get pancakes.”

“I wasn’t asking permission. I was telling you.”

The huff of laughter is still on my lips when I plant a quick kiss on hers. “Goodnight, Rilla.”

“Goodnight, Logan.”

I leave the apartment for the second time feeling much lighter than the first. I meant what I said; I’m not pretending tonight didn’t happen. If she doesn’t want it to happen again, I’ll respect her decision, but I’m not planning to go down without a fight.

There is something between us. I think it’s been present since the first time we met. I don’t know if it’s just physical attraction or if it goes deeper. But it’s there and it deserves to be explored.

Chapter 20

Rilla

“Do you want some?”

Logan looks pointedly at the fork full of syrup drenched pancakes I’m holding out to him. “I’m good, thanks.”

I shrug, stuffing it in my mouth. “Shoot yer shelf.”

As we sit in the quaint diner, a shaft of sunlight pierces through the window, casting a warm glow upon the table between us. The beautiful thing about this type of eating establishment is that you only have to wait three to eight minutes from the time you order your food until they place it in front of you. Today is no different. I only had to make awkward small talk with Logan for five minutes before I was given the perfect excuse to stop talking.

He hasn’t touched the omelet in front of him. I’m beginning to think he only ordered because I asked for The Great Stack Attack with a side of bacon. It certainly lives up to its name: eight discs of cloud-like pancakes smothered in a lake of syrup and dusted with powdered sugar.

“Not a pancake fan?” I ask when I note his dubious expression.

“I can’t remember the last time I ate them. I make them for Travis and Anna sometimes, though.” His expression softens when he says their names.

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