Page 29 of Fall From Grace
“It’s none of your business. Let it go.”
Whatever he is trying to numb himself from, it must involve music of some kind. I don’t know what makes me say it, but I find myself telling him something about me. “My ex and I met through our high school band program. Well, he was in the band. I was in choir. I like to sing. He played the guitar. We, um, bonded over our shared love of music. We had a channel together where we’d record ourselves covering songs. During the summer, we’d do a new song every week. No one really watched them, but… I don’t know. It felt like we were going somewhere, together. I didn’t think…” I swallow hard. “I haven’t sung a word since the breakup.”
Logan doesn’t say anything for a long, long time. He stares out at the backyard of the house, looking at nothing in particular. For a while, I wonder if he even heard me, or if he’s lost somewhere in his head, thinking about whatever reason he doesn’t want to talk about his guitars.
Right when I start to wonder whether or not he’s going to say anything at all, he mutters, “Those goddamn guitars. I don’t even play. Not really.”
“For someone who doesn’t play, you have a lot of them.” It doesn’t make much sense to me: if he doesn’t really play, why have an entire room dedicated to them? I don’t get it.
“I can play alright,” he says, shooting me a hard look, the corners of his mouth tugging into a frown, “but I… used to be with other people who could play a lot better.” He kicks the sole of his right foot against the patio below. “I used to sing, too.”
Hearing that this guy could sing makes me wonder if, somehow, I subconsciously knew that already. Is that why I both hated him and felt drawn to him? Why I got irritated by him andnever did anything about it? Why I decided to go home with him at the club last week?
“What kind of songs did you sing?” I don’t know why I ask, and I’m well aware the question might send him off the deep end, but I’m curious. I’m suddenly so very curious about this guy. There’s more to him than just being a jerk, and I want to know more.
He chuckles, although it’s a joyless sound. With a shake of his head, he doesn’t say a word, and that’s answer enough. He’s not going to tell me what he used to sing—and that’s fine. It’s not like I’m desperate for the answer, just a bit curious.
As silence permeates the space between us, the sounds of the party inside the house seem to expand and grow louder, and the reminder that I’m not having any fun here is an uncomfortable itch beneath my skin I can’t ever hope to scratch. I run my hands along my dress, then stand.
Logan watches me, finally breaking his silence by asking, “Where are you going?”
“Home,” I say simply, and then I walk away from him as I pull out my phone and send Sloane a message saying just that. I don’t walk through the house, deciding to walk around its outer edge—obviously, so I don’t have the chance to run into my ex. The last thing I want to do is come face-to-face with him.
I don’t know if I’m worried that I’ll lose my cool or if I’ll be tempted to forgive him. You know, old habits. He’s familiar. He’s easy. Moving on? Not nearly as easy, but that’s what must be done. It’s what I have to do at this point.
I sigh. So much for a new me this year. Besides hooking up with Logan, what have I done besides run away?
Chapter Fourteen – Logan
I should let her go. She can find her own way home. I’m not the white knight type, anyway. Never have been, never will be. Still, after she gets up and walks away, I can’t help but feel like I should get up and go with her. Not to try anything—not really in the mood, after talking about guitars and singing and shit—but just to make sure she gets home.
You know, safe or whatever.
It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t care. I don’t.
Fuck. Maybe a little.
I get up and go after her. I catch her just as her feet hit the sidewalk in front of the house and she turns to walk in the right direction, to wherever she calls home right now. When I reach her side, she tosses me a wrinkled, slightly annoyed look and asks, “What are you doing?”
I shove my hands in my pockets and shrug. “I’m walking. What are you doing?”
“I’m going home. I told you.”
“Cool.”
Wren groans. “I don’t need you to walk me home, if that’s what you’re doing. I can make it there myself just fine.”
“Never said I was walking you home. Just said I was walking.”
She eyes me up, suspicious. “Walking in the same direction as me.”
“Maybe I live this way, too.”
“I know where you live, remember?”
Oh, yeah. I shrug again and say, “Doesn’t matter. I’m walking this way, same as you, so deal with it, nerd.”
The sigh she lets out right then is legendary, and it tells me she’s already fed up with me. Seems I get on her nerves just asshe gets on mine. Good. The feeling, as shitty as it is, is mutual. “Back to calling me that. Great. I love being called a nerd like we’re in second grade.”
