Page 55 of We Were Something
“Yeah,” I say, unable to hide my enthusiasm for whatever he’s thinking of. “Absolutely.”
When Logan picks me up that evening, I hustle my butt out to his car the minute I see his lights in the driveway.
The last thing I need is for my mom—who is shockingly home tonight since the weekly Bunco game with her girlfriends was cancelled—to start asking questions and think this is a chance for her to interrogate a man I’m dating.
I’m 24, not 16.
Though her questions would probably be more because she’s so desperate to get rid of me and not because she’s trying to protect my virtue. Funny when I think back to the fact that she never seemed to care when I was younger and actuallyhadvirtue to protect.
“So where are we headed?” I ask once we’ve been on the road for a few minutes heading inland.
“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure,” he says, flicking his blinker on and merging onto Artesia.
“Ahhh. The serial killer rears his ugly head,” I joke.
Logan shakes his head and smiles at me. “Obviously.” He pauses for a second before speaking again. “I actually just…wanted a chance for us to talk, you know? Get to know each other a little better. And I figured if I’m driving, less chance of either of us giving in to our baser instincts.”
I blink, somewhat surprised. “Oh.”
Logan’s easy expression falls. “I’m sorry, I should have asked before just assuming…”
“No, it’s fine,” I tell him, wishing I could take back the confused expression he just saw on my face. “Really. I…just wasn’t expecting…” I take a deep breath and try to start over again. “Going on a drive and talking sounds perfect,” I tell him.
Because really, it does.
Maybe I was wrong before, assuming he wanted me to know things between us were just physical. Maybe hedoeswant this to be something more. I mean, he wouldn’t intentionally take me out to talk if he didn’t want to know me, right?
Or maybe I just need to let go of labeling this thing between us at all. Just let it be whatever it is.
“So tell me more about fashion school,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve known anyone who has done something like that before.”
It wouldn’t have been my first choice of conversation topic since things ended so horribly. But I don’t mind talking about the fun parts, because before things went to shit, I really did love it.
“Well, I’ve always hated school,” I tell him, smiling because I’m sure a total science brain like himlovedgoing to class. “But I’ve also alwayslovedfashion. And the only thing that ever made sense when it came time to decide what would be next for me after high school was working for a brand somewhere, maybe local, maybe global. So I applied to a few schools - Parsons. Central Saint Martins in London. And FIT.”
“Are those the schools they show on that runway show?”
I smirk and look over at him, our eyes catching as we pass under a street light. “You meanProject Runway?”
He nods.
“And what do you know about that show?”
Logan snorts. “Let’s see. ‘Make it work!’”
At his poor imitation of Tim Gunn, I burst into laughter and Logan joins me.
“I’ve watched a few episodes here and there. Out of boredom, mostly,” he tells me. “Long nights in the on-call room lend themselves to Netflix and Hulu bingeing.”
“Clearly,” I say, shifting slightly in my seat so I can watch him better as he drives us to wherever. “Parsons used to be a part of the show, but FIT wasn’t. Ultimately, I picked FIT because it felt more focused on the fashion aspects, and Parsons was more about design. They had things like architecture and interior design, and it felt more math-heavy. Plus, Ilovedmy counselor at FIT. In my opinion, having an academic advisor who actually cares about you makes all the difference.”
“I completely agree,” he replies. “I had a great academic advisor, too, and he helped me figure out how to double major without stepping outside of my scholarshipandwhile on the sailing team.”
“Okay, first of all, how am I not shocked atallthat you double majored? And second, you were on the sailing team?” I ask, my excitement evident in my voice. “That’s so cool! FIT had like…cross country teams or something, but I always wonder if I would have enjoyed going to a big school with massive athletic programs.”
“Oh yeah? Were you really into sports at Roth?”
I snort. “Not at all, actually. I went to like, two soccer matches the entire time, and only because Wyatt was playing.” I shake my head. “I wasn’t much of a joiner back then.”
