More Than Him (9 page)

He raised his hands as if to stop me. "Keep it," he said. His single dimple half-smile appeared. "Give it back the next time I see you." It came out as a question.

I continued to shrug out of it and handed it to him.

His expression changed immediately, and sadness washed over him. He took it from my hands, cleared his throat and nodded, as if understanding an unspoken word that lingered between us.

"It was really good seeing you, Logan. I'm glad we did this. I'm glad you're . . .
safe.
"

His lips thinned to a line. He didn't speak, just nodded.

I turned to get in my car, but his hand on my arm stopped me. He spun me to face him and before I knew it, his arms were around me and our bodies were locked.

His hard chest was against mine, one hand on my back, the other in my hair. I could feel the heat of his breath against my shoulder.

"Amanda," he whispered, and then he slowly sucked in a breath.

Without realizing, my hands came up to rest flat on his back. I felt his fingers curl into me, holding me tighter. I shut my eyes and let myself have this moment, this last moment with me in his arms. I wanted to remember this, savor it, drown in it. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pushed back the tears.

And that's how we stayed.

It could've been hours, it could've been seconds—it didn't matter. Time didn't exist.

We pulled back simultaneously. He sniffed once, and wiped his eyes quickly. Then his red-stained eyes met mine with an intensity that knocked me back a step. He leaned forward, wet his lips and placed them on my forehead. It was warm, and soft, and everything I remembered from the past. He cupped my cheek and pulled back slightly, but not enough that I could see him. Then I heard him speak, his voice low, but clear, "Goodbye, pretty girl."

He stepped back, turned around and walked away.

And I watched him.

I got in my car, put it into gear, pulled away from the curb, turned a corner, parked on the side of the road, and let it out.

All of it.

I love him.

I still fucking love him.

I couldn't control the sobs that shook my body. I'd cried for Logan in the past, but I didn't cry for Logan in the present, or in the future. And now he was here.

I would not let him break me.

After a few minutes, I tried to regain control of myself. I pulled out my phone to message Ethan, and let him know I was fine. He was okay with me having more freedom, as long as he knew where I was. I think it helped that he'd started officially dating Alexis a few months earlier and wanted to spend some alone time with her. I also think she’d helped persuade him to give me a little space. She was over most weekends, or he was there with her. It worked, and I couldn't be happier for them. I'm glad they finally found each other. She was exactly what he needed to stop whoring around. I laughed to myself, wondering if Logan's friends had ever thought that about me.

Fucking Logan.

I started crying again. My head hit the steering wheel, and the horn sounded. I jerked up in surprise. Then a knocking on my window made me squeal. I reached in my bag for the mace before turning around to find the person responsible.

Logan.

He was wearing his sweater again with the hood over his head. I wound down my window, a little suspicious of why he was here. "Are you following me?"

His eyes narrowed. "I could ask you the same thing."

"What?"

He jerked his head to the building behind him, but his eyes never left mine. "I live here."

"You all good, man?" a guy behind him asked. He had a girl under his arm. The girl had bleached blonde hair, dreadlocks and piercings. They were the type of people you'd expect to see at Twiggy's party. I guess that's how Logan ended up at a place like that. "I'm good," he told them. "You guys head in." He turned to me and spoke, concern dripping from his words, "Are you okay? I mean—have you been crying?"

I sighed. "Yeah. I mean no. I'm not okay, and yes, I have been crying." I didn't see the point in lying.

He straightened to full height. "Because of me?"

"Yes."

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, his eyes cast downwards. "Do you—I mean—do you want to talk about it? About what happened to us?"

I shook my head out of habit, but then I calmed down enough to think about it. Maybe I needed to speak to him. Maybe I needed some form of closure. "Okay," I whispered.

"What?" he asked. His head jerked up in surprise.

"I think that might be a good idea, you know . . . closure and all."

"Closure." He repeated my words as if tossing the idea around in his head. "Okay."

I grabbed a sweater from the back seat and put it on, making sure to cover my wrists. He opened my door and helped me step out.

"Closure," I heard him whisper.

9

Amanda

"The elevator’s broken, we're gonna have to hoof it five floors." He smirked at me. "Are you going to be okay, or do you want me to carry you?"

"Ha ha," I said, pulling the sleeves of my sweater past my fingers. "I'll have you know I've started working out." I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Aaah." He had a knowing look on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing." He shook his head slightly and motioned for me to go ahead of him on the stairs.

I took five steps up before I turned to him. "What do—" My words cut off when I noticed his gaze lift to mine. His eyes were wide, as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't be. Then it hit me. I glared at him. "Were you just looking at my ass?"

He chuckled, low at first, and then it turned in to an all out laugh. "I'm sorry," he managed to get out. "I'm still a guy, and you—you're still smokin' hot." I don't know what emotion showed on my face, but his smile disappeared. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I won't say stuff like that again." He swallowed and took two steps forward, until we were on the same step. "See, I won't perv. Promise."

We made the rest of the way to the fifth floor in silence. The building was old, not what I'd expect Logan to live in, not with the money I knew he had. We stopped in the middle of the hallway when we saw the same couple from outside making out in front of a door, the guy was trying to get his key in the hole while he pressed the girl into it. Logan laughed under his breath and walked over to the couple. I stayed close behind him. "Yo, Eli." Logan tried to get his attention. They didn't break apart; they didn't even notice he was there. He put his hands on the guy's shoulders and moved him across the hall. "Wrong door, guys," he told them, before moving back to where the couple had just been. He pulled keys out of his pocket, unlocked and pushed the door open, and then motioned for me to enter.

I did.

The apartment was simple, to say the least. A kitchen on the left, living/bedroom and that was basically it. He had a sofa bed, and his bags and boxes were still unpacked. "This is . . . nice," I told him.

He laughed. "This will do," he replied.

I turned in a circle, taking it in. "So, it's like a studio apartment?" I motioned towards his sofa bed.

His eyes narrowed, as if confused. "Oh, no. There are two bedrooms down the hall." He pointed to a hallway I hadn't seen yet.

I shifted on my feet. "So, you have housemates?" It was my turn to be confused.

"No." He opened the fridge and stared at the contents.

"So, you sleep on the floor of the living room because . . ." I waited for him to finish my sentence.

He closed the fridge door, turned, and leaned against it, and then exhaled loudly. "Because I have this thing with needing to be able to see and hear the front door," he confessed.

Our eyes locked, focused on each other, as if doing so for long enough would help me understand what he meant. Or maybe it might make it easier to explain why we were both here together, but not
together.

Finally, I looked away, not being able to handle the intensity in his gaze. My eyes roamed around the little space he'd created for himself. Even with the boxes and bags everywhere, it was still neat. Everything had its place. There were piles of clothes in the corner of the room, but they too were folded and stacked perfectly. Apart from those items, the apartment was empty. There were no personal touches, no decorations, no lamps, no pictures; nothing.

"I like what you've done with the place," I teased.

He reached up into a cupboard and pulled out a packet of something.

Gummy bears.

He placed a bowl on the counter and started taking all the red ones out. "Funny," he retorted, not looking up from his task. "Actually, my ex-girlfriend was into all that interior design stuff, she had an eye—" he cut himself off, but then raised his head and stared off into the distance. His eyes narrowed. "Huh," he said to himself. "I've never called you that before—an ex-girlfriend, I mean. It just seems wrong. You're just so much more than that, you know?" He turned to face me. "We were more than that, right? Or was that just me?"

My breath hitched. The walls closed in. I couldn't be here with him. Not when he said stuff like that. Not when he didn't know how badly it affected me. "I think I should leave," I told him. I panicked. I didn't know what else to say.

"No," he said quickly, stepping in front of me and blocking my way. "No, please. Stay. I'm sorry. I won't say stupid shit anymore, please. Just . . . just stay. We don't even have to talk about us. We can talk about anything, or nothing. We don't even have to talk at all." He looked at his hand and shook it again, then blew out a heavy breath.

I've seen a lot of sides to Logan before, but I've never seen this. I've never seen this type of vulnerability in him. This need for approval or just . . .
need.

"Please," he said again, his voice breaking.

And I knew it then—how much trouble I was in. Because Logan— he
still
had that power over me. "Okay," I told him. "I just need some air."

His smile was instant. "I've got the perfect place." He grabbed his keys and took my hand, leading me out the door and up a different staircase.

Logan

I took her out to the rooftop of the building. When I’d first moved in, the landlady told me that this wasn't the type of building that allowed drug use and loud parties. I laughed, and told her that it wasn't me at all. I told her about how much I planned on doing nothing but studying to try to catch up on as much as possible. She’d smiled then, and made me follow her up here. She’d told me that it was the only place in the building that had enough quiet so that my ever-progressive brain would work properly. Only her and I had a key, and no one else knew it existed. I bought some outdoor furniture the next day, and this place became my safe haven.

I tell all this to Amanda. She just smiles warmly at me and says, "It's real nice, Logan." Like I'm a fucking kid she needs to talk down to. I know what she's doing. I saw it in her eyes when I practically begged her to stay. I knew she pitied me, and it's probably the only reason why she was here with me right now. But I didn't care. I'd take anything she gave me. I walked us over to the outdoor sofa set I bought and motioned for her to sit down.

"So," I started.

"So," she replied.

"How's Ethan?"

Her shoulders visibly relaxed. Maybe she'd be happy to talk, as long as it wasn't about us. "He's good. Him and Lexi have been dating for a few months now."

I sat back and tried to feign comfort. Inside, I was a wreck. I tried to hide my shaking hands in my pockets as much as possible, but I couldn't do it from a seated position. "That's good, right?" I asked. "I mean—are you okay with that?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, I'm happy for them." She brought her legs up and under her. "And Tristan lives with us now, so it's kind of like old times—like high school."

"So Tristan—he's in my old room?"

"Um." She leaned back so her head rested on the top of the sofa and she was looking up at the sky. "No. Actually, I'm in your old room."

I tried not to picture her in our bed, probably with other guys. I didn't know if she was dating anyone, or if she had in the past. Fuck, surely she would've had sex with—

"So, Logan Matthews—gallivanting aimlessly around the world for an entire year. That must have been fun—I bet you drove the ladies wild." Her tone was part mocking, part teasing and part anger, and I felt every single one.

"No gallivanting. Not unless you count sleeping on dirt in third-world countries, and watching sick kids get sicker, gallivanting. And no. No girls."

Her head whipped to face me, her eyes narrowed. "No girls?" she asked incredulously. "Why do I not believe you?"

I shrugged. "What about you?" I asked.

It was her turn to shrug. "Don't really think it's important. Do you?" She slowly turned to face me, and then let out a breath, picking at the sleeve of her sweater. "Tyson moved in after you left."

I tried for the same reaction she gave me, but failed. "Huh."

"Yeah," she said, dreaminess in her voice. Fucking Tyson. "He asked if I ever wondered what would've happened between us if I'd never met you."

My chest tightened. I wondered the same thing all the time. "What did you tell him?"

"I don't know. Different time. Different place. I guess anything could have happened."

I didn't know what she meant, but I didn't press further.

It was quiet for the longest time, neither of us knowing what to say, or how to move on from the awkward conversation.

She shifted until her long legs stretched out in front of her, with her feet resting on the table. My eyes trailed from her feet, up her legs, over the rest of her body.

"How are you so neat?" she asked out of nowhere. "Your room, and now your apartment, it's so clean. Why?"