Page 48 of Fall From Grace
He chuckles, the first break in an otherwise serious demeanor. “Are you asking me out?”
“I am.” I almost vomit when I say those words, but I manage to get them out without throwing up my dinner. Granted, I didn’t eat much because I couldn’t stop worrying about tonight and how it could backfire spectacularly in my face, but whatever.
Logan cocks his head at me, his scowl morphing into a knowing smirk. “I thought it wasn’t always about sex?”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes at him. “Going out doesn’t automatically mean sex.”
“Please. We go out again, where do you think you’ll end up tonight? Snug in your own bed, or getting your brains fucked out by yours truly?”
“Um,” I pause as my cheeks heat up. Leave it to Logan to say something so out of pocket it makes me speechless. “I don’t think that’s physically possible—” I can tell he’s seconds from arguing with me, as if he has some specific examples of himscrewing the brains out girls, so I add, “Look, just throw on some clothes and come with me tonight.”
He folds his arms over his chest. “Why should I?”
There is a lot I could say to that, but I settle for the truth: “Because I want you to.” He acts taken aback by my answer, which pushes me to go on and say, “I didn’t see you in class.”
“Wasn’t feeling too good,” he mutters, although I seriously doubt the truth of that.
We stare at each other for a long thirty seconds, neither of us budging. I decide to plead one more time with him, “Please, Logan. Just come. There’s something I want to do with you.” Maybe it’s the seriousness of my tone, but he doesn’t joke about sex.
No, in fact, Logan actually gives in—he gives in with a groan and a shake of his head, but he gives in all the same. “Fine. Give me two minutes. You can come in while you wait, I guess.”
Ever the gentleman. He turns away from me, not even bothering to hold the door open for me as I enter, which leaves me to shut the door myself as he disappears up the stairs.
No lights are on, which makes it really dark inside. I meander to his living room and find the TV on, along with an empty plate on the coffee table in front of the couch. Is this what Logan does when he’s home alone? Here I thought my life was depressing, but this? This is sad. For someone like him, being home alone on a Friday night must be like torture… which begs the question: why isn’t he out? If he’s such a partier, why not go and party?
If he’s who I think he might be, what’s he doing here, by himself?
It isn’t long before Logan appears, dressed in jeans and a fitting t-shirt. He must have put some styling putty or something in his black hair, because it’s a little less messy than it was whenhe first answered the door. When he approaches me, I get a whiff of something alluring. Some kind of body spray, maybe?
His mouth is drawn into a frown as he stares at me. “All right,” he mumbles. “Where the fuck we going? Do I need to drive?”
I shake my head once and step around him, mostly so I don’t have to keep smelling him. Much as I hate to admit it, he smells good. Like, so good I want to bury my face into his chest and breathe him in like a psycho. “No. We’re walking. It’s not far.”
He groans, but ultimately he follows me. Out of his house we go, turning left when we reach the sidewalk. He sticks his hands into his pockets, his shoulders slumped a bit, and he doesn’t say a single word as we start the journey to our destination. He must still be in a bad mood; I really don’t think he’s been sick.
I think this all stems from me finding him in the cemetery, and if that’s the case, then… then he sure isn’t going to be happy when we get to where we’re going. I don’t dare tell him yet, because I know he’ll turn right back around and march home.
One good thing about being so close to campus is that the streets are well taken care of. The streetlights are bright, illuminating the sidewalks as we go. Even now, after the sun fell and the moon had taken its place, the streets are busy as the nightlife of the area surges. Students going out for some Friday fun, students going home for the weekend. There might even be a football game tonight at the stadium; not sure about that, since I don’t pay attention to sports.
All that’s to say, we aren’t the only ones on the sidewalk.
The night breeze blows, and even though it’s not cold, it is a reminder that chillier temperatures are coming. Autumn is right around the corner. It’ll be here before we know it, which means everything will be a wet mess. Honestly, autumn is my least-favorite season because I hate bringing umbrellas to class.
And if you don’t bring an umbrella to class? Then you pretty much subject yourself to sitting there, drenched, and there’s nothing worse than a sopping wet hoodie you can’t take off because the shirt underneath is just as wet.
“You going to tell me where the fuck we’re going?” Logan asks.
“No,” I say, glancing at him as we walk. “Why do you swear so much?”
The look he gives me tells me he doesn’t want to talk, but he still somehow says, “Because I fucking want to. Is that a good enough reason for you?” When all I do is shrug, he asks me, “Why don’t you ever swear? Still pretending you’re in third grade or something?”
I sigh, and I don’t dignify that with a response. Seconds pass, and the more I just can’t let that go. “If I’m pretending I’m in third grade, what does that make you?”
Logan harrumphs, but he doesn’t say a word, probably because he knows I have him cornered there.
“Seriously, you’d get your point across just as well without swearing.”
“Yeah,” he says dryly. “But swearing is fun. Say the words with me: shit. Damn. Fuck. Ass.” I shake my head again. “Have you ever said those words out loud? You have to think them, at least. No one can go through life without swearing one way or another—”
