Page 53 of We Were Something
I twist my lips and think it over then allow myself to fall flat on my mat. I can’t believe he’s not readyat all. I just can’t imagine that Logan would lead us both down the path he did on Friday night if he wasn’t at least somewhat interested in having a fun little…thing.
Not a relationship, exactly.
“So if he’s only kind of ready, and neither of us are in it for the long-term, just for some fun and sexual release, what’s that called?”
“An affair to fucking remember,” Lennon jokes.
Hannah and I both laugh.
An affair.I kind of like it, but it also sounds illicit.
In the past, I never had a problem with my sexual relationships being a secret, something sneaky. Like with Mr. Kelson. Obviously that one couldnothave been out in the open without huge problems, and the secretive nature of slinking around the school and finding stolen moments actually added to the fun of it.
But something feels wrong about calling this thing with Logan anaffair. It feels like a dirty word, and not in a good way.
For the first time, I don’t want a sexy little thing to be kept in the dark. I want it out in the sun, for everyone to know about.
Though that feels like a clear mistake when considering our age difference and the fact that I’mfriendswith one of his patients. Who knows how the ridiculous gossip mill in Hermosa Beach would handle such a scandal.
So. Affair it is. For now, I guess. Until we manage to figure out what else it can be. Or until we fizzle out.
Whichever comes first.
“Anyone up for mimosas instead of more yoga?” Lennon offers. “I love Tegan, but I could be down with canceling the rest of our workout and having a little Monday Mourning pre-game.”
I nod. “I’m down for that. I’ll go let her know.”
Hopping up from my mat, I head over to tell Tegan she can head out for the day and we’ll see her on Wednesday. Then I grab my phone off the patio table and glance at it, feeling just a twinge of letdown when I scan over a screen full of messages, none of which are from Logan.
I thought what happened between us on Friday would make our interactions a bit easier, thought he’d be more comfortable to just…I don't know, chat without pressure.
But maybe that’s not what happened on his end. Maybe the steamy moments between us actually made it more complicated for him.
I mean, he’s a man who has been in a relationship for most of his life, right? Maybe he’s picturing me as one of those clingy virgins who confuse lust with love.
So without thinking it out too much, I flick off a text really quick.
Me: Thinking about how amazing Friday night was. Down for a repeat? I’m hoping this time you’ll let me return the favor ;)
The best thing I can do is make sure he knows I’m seeing it as only sexual, too. Even if that thought seems to drop an unfamiliar rock into the pit of my stomach.
I send the message quickly then tuck the phone into the small pocket in my yoga pants.
“Alright ladies, drink time?”
Lennon and Hannah pop off their mats, and the three of us head into the kitchen to put together our OJ-and-prosecco breakfasts. I promise myself I won’t check my phone again for at least a few hours.
I’m laying out by the pool later that afternoon when I hear my phone ring. I reach over to the table next to my lounger and shield my face so I can check the screen, my face lighting up when I see Logan’s name.
“Well hello there, Beethoven,” I say, my voice teasing as I put the phone on speaker and set it back on the table.
Sitting up, I retrieve my bottle of sunscreen and flip open the cap.
“Beethoven?” Logan asks. “The dog or the piano guy?”
“There’s a dog named Beethoven?”
I hear him laugh on the other end of the line. “It’s a movie about a Saint Bernard. Now that I think about it, it probably came out before you were born.”
