A/N-Reminder that I don't own these characters, all credit goes to the creators of "Big Time Rush."

I rarely write in first person, but it felt right for this story. I actually jump back and forth between first and third, and there's a reason for that but it won't be explained until the very last chapter. I hope it isn't too confusing. All of this story is told from Logan's point of view.

Thank you to my friend for reading this over and giving me suggestions. I followed most of them because she's usually right and I love her.

Also-I know nothing about frozen yogurt or how it's processed and sold. I did do a small amount of research on that for this story, but not nearly enough. If I screwed up really badly, forgive me. I've never worked in a frozen yogurt place! Hopefully there's nothing in here that's too unbelievable. Feel free to drop me a line about that (or any thoughts you have while reading this, really, I welcome feedback!).

When I was fourteen, I experienced my first kiss. There was no warning, no explanation. One minute I was bending down to pop the lock on my bike, the next I stood and turned to face the only other occupant of the bicycle storage area. I don't remember anyone else being around to watch, but maybe that's because my brain malfunctioned when his gaze locked onto mine. Eyes blazing with determination, he stepped closer to trap me between himself and my bike. I had only enough time to realize he was going to kiss me before he was doing it, and in my shock it never occurred to me to shove him away. Lips were moving on mine, a larger hand suddenly cupping the back of my head. While there was nothing more than a slight rub of his tongue against my bottom lip inviting me to open my mouth, it was enough to send electricity running through me from both directions and when the bolts met somewhere in the vicinity of my lower stomach, my fingers instinctively closed around the lapel of his worn denim jacket. I'd seen him in that jacket almost every day for the past three years and noted that it was getting tighter as he shot up and filled out but at the moment it wasn't a piece of clothing—it was an anchor keeping him there until my brain kicked in to remind me that the kiss made no sense and deserved an explanation.

That never happened, though. The kiss knocked my brain for a loop, sending it on an abrupt journey to somewhere outside the solar system, and when we did finally part it was due to his actions, not mine. I remember that my heart was thundering so hard I could hear it in my head, my fingers slowly releasing from the claws they had become around his jacket and my eyes wide as I stared into the face that was becoming more clear as the distance between us stretched out. I was still in a state of shock, but not enough that I didn't notice that he was as well, as if he could hardly believe he'd done it. By the time I remembered to breathe, he was already backing away. I opened my mouth to ask something, I still don't know what I was going to say except maybe "What was that?", but before I could get any words out, he spoke.

"I have to go."

I was still numb enough that all I could do was nod. His expression transformed suddenly, mouth creasing into a grin before he laughed loudly, eyes reflecting sheer happiness. There was a wink and then he was gone, running from the bike area as if chased by a pack of wild dogs, my gaze trained on his long legs and broad shoulders as he moved. Just before rounding a corner of the science building he let out one more exhilarated laugh, then disappeared from view.

I flew home on my bike that day, mind a jumbled mass of questions and body humming with newfound sensations. I told no one of the encounter, needing to analyze and study it before I could even think about discussing it with anyone—and really, who would I tell? I had no friends, not even siblings I could confide in. In the end I settled for a long talk with my dog Rusty, who had been my most faithful companion for ten years. He didn't have any answers to my questions, of course, but he listened well and made soft whiny noises in all the right places to show he was paying attention.

I told Rusty that what shocked me more than anything else about the kiss was that we'd never even spoken to each other. Sure, we'd seen each other around school over the years, but as far as I could tell there was never any interest on his part. It was only in the past year I'd taken an active interest in him myself, and I made sure to never let it show. Nobody knew I found him attractive or liked to watch him at lunch with all his buddies, as I made sure to only do it from a high window of the library that looked out over the quad. Sitting at the table next to the window, I could've been watching everyone as I munched. There was no possible way he could've seen me; I would've known I'd been spotted.

It simply didn't make any sense, Rusty appearing as confused as I felt as I talked. In the end I decided it had been a dare, that one of his drama buddies had put him up to it. Why they'd chosen me, I would never know, unless I just happened to be a random student in the right place at the right time. Maybe I'd work up the courage to ask him about it next time we passed in the hall, or-

Except in all the excitement of the kiss, I'd forgotten it was the last day of school. Last day of junior high, and I wouldn't be seeing him again for three months. Would he even remember it then? Was he even going to the same high school as me next year? What if that was why he'd done it, because he knew he'd never have to see me again?

I have to go.

When he'd said that, I assumed he meant home for the day. What I didn't understand until watching the local news that night with my mother was that he meant forever. There he was at the airport, being interviewed about his move to Hollywood for a television show he'd been cast in. Local student turned sudden celebrity, I had no idea that night that James Diamond would become a household name in a matter of months and I'd spend my high school career following his rise to stardom—in secret, of course. He went on to do three seasons as the star of a ridiculously popular television show, and even managed to work in two movies while filming that. By the time he turned eighteen, James Diamond had more money than I would probably make in my entire lifetime, had been through five tumultuous romances followed by extremely public break-ups with actresses as famous as he was, and had become a poster child for Hollywood's wild party scene.

Over the years there were many interviews and articles written about him. There was even a documentary detailing his childhood and rise to fame. I devoured every word, every scene, every hint of information regarding James Diamond, but nowhere in any of it did I find what I was looking for—an explanation for that kiss. It haunted me every day, made me wake up in the dead of night sweating and gasping for air with lingering impressions of a dream that was half-memory. Would I ever have an answer to the question that hung over my head every waking moment? Would I ever know why James Diamond had kissed me out of the blue on the last day of junior high, turning my world upside down in a matter of seconds?

No.

I accepted it on the last day of high school, while approaching the stage to give my valedictorian speech. The colored robes made me think of him and wonder how my life would be different had he stayed in Minnesota, if he'd been there in that moment sitting on a folding chair watching me walk down the aisle nervously. I'd spent a week working on my speech, perfecting it to give the maximum impact without boring the students to death, and as I stepped up to the podium and stared out at the sea of blue and gray caps, I thought of him again and remembered how the kiss made me feel, thought of all the days since that I'd dwelled on it and been driven half-mad with questions.

It was time to let go. It was never more evident than in that moment that my future lay ahead of me, that it was one that didn't include James Diamond, and that I would live the rest of my life without an answer as to why the kiss had happened. I would move forward, I would meet new people in college, and hopefully I'd actually make a few friends. I'd discover my true self. It was terrifying, not only for me but for all of us in that overcrowded auditorium that day, and I suddenly knew what we all needed to hear. The prepared speech was thrown aside in favor of an off the cuff discussion about letting go of things that hold us back and moving on to our true destinies. My mother later told me she was shocked by my speech, as it wasn't the one I'd rehearsed for her, but also extremely proud. It was the first time I could remember doing something without planning it out and thinking it through carefully—if you didn't count the day four years before when I'd instinctively responded to a kiss that came with no warning.

I spent the summer working full-time at the frozen yogurt shop I'd been picking up hours at since I turned sixteen, saving up as much money as I could for the move to Los Angeles. Did my decision to attend college out there have anything at all to do with James Diamond? I can honestly say that no, it didn't. My favorite author taught classes at my chosen university, and that's what had drawn me to it. Did I wonder sometimes if I'd ever run into James Diamond once I moved there? No, I can say that with honesty as well. I'd made the decision to forget about him on the day I graduated, and as I had urged all of my classmates to do, I was moving forward. The dreams had stopped, the memories no longer haunted me, and for the first time in four years I was excited about my life and my future. As I walked into the shop the day before my move to Los Angeles, James Diamond wasn't even a thought in my head. I stepped behind the counter, clocked in for my shift, and was tying an apron around my waist when his name floated to me from the television affixed to a wall.

"While James Diamond is a name often mentioned in our entertainment segments, today's news about him may shock you. James' publicist has issued a statement declaring that the beloved but troubled young star is trading in fame and fortune for the quiet of his small hometown in Minnesota. Diamond, who turned eighteen last month, opted not to renew his contract for a fourth season of 'Class Act' and has fired his manager, giving no explanation for his actions and declining all interviews. When asked by paparazzi stationed at LAX why he was leaving Hollywood behind for good, he only had four words to say. 'I have to go.'"

My stomach dropped while at the same time laughter bubbled up my throat. "Of course you'd say that. Of course you'd give no explanation for your actions. That would be too easy, wouldn't it?"

I missed the rest of the story because my manager had overheard me laughing and mumbling and asked if I was okay. Was I? Not really.

James Diamond was coming home.

After calling out a goodnight to the last customer of the evening, Logan Mitchell breathed a sigh of relief. Finally he could lock up and put not only this job, but this city, behind him.

James Diamond's arrival in town wouldn't change that. Logan had thought it over throughout the evening and realized that his curiosity wasn't enough to keep him here even ten minutes past his planned departure tomorrow. He'd moved on.

Logan stepped around the counter, making it halfway to the front door before it slammed open violently enough to make the little bell at the top swing wildly. He halted, immediately fearing the worst and ready to tell the intruder that all the money had been dropped into a bottom safe he had no access to. Hands up, he opened his mouth but then closed it when he realized the man wasn't even aware of his presence but was instead crouching down under the shop's large front window as if hiding from someone.

Frowning, Logan backed away slowly while reaching down to slide his phone from the pocket of his jeans. The intruder had crawled all the way across the window and was now standing up slowly along its edge, making sure to keep out of sight while still attempting to see outside. From behind, Logan could only tell that it was a tall, skinny man wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, which was pulled over his head. He approached quietly, thumb at the ready to put a call through to 9-1-1, and said softly, "Can I help you?"

The figure jumped as if prodded with a branding iron, spinning in surprise and letting out a yell before covering his mouth. Between the hood, the hand, and a pair of pitch-black shades, Logan couldn't make out anything of his features. He held up both hands again in a non-threatening gesture, sensing that the intruder was more afraid of him than vice versa.

Or maybe not, because the next thing the intruder did was yell, "What the hell are you doing, sneaking up on someone like that?! Are you crazy?!"

Arms lowering into a more defensive position, Logan uttered, "We're closed. You'll have to leave."

"I can't, they're...at least I think..." He spun around, once again facing the front window as if searching for someone.

"Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone for you? I can call the police if someone's after you."

"Can't see a damn thing with these on." With a frustrated groan, the man whipped off the shades and hurriedly pocketed them, then squinted out into the darkness once more.

"I'm gonna lock the door," Logan stated slowly, as if afraid to set the man off again.

"Yeah, good idea. Do it."

Still not entirely sure he wasn't safer outside away from whatever it was this guy would undoubtedly drag him into, Logan approached the door and used his key to lock it.

"Are they out there?"

"I...don't really know who I'm looking for. Who's after you?"

"The paps. The fucking paps, they followed me all the way here, can you believe it?"

"The...?" Dread began to slowly course down into Logan's stomach as he turned to face the man, whose profile could be made out now that the shades had been put away. There was no mistaking that classic nose or the eyelashes that were longer than any man had a right to, and when Logan's gaze settled on lips that had once haunted him in dreams, he could only let out a frustrated groan of his own. "Of course. It had to be you."

"Me?" Already offended, James Diamond turned to glare at his would-be rescuer. "What the hell does...oh." Voice immediately dropping to a softer tone, he continued, "It's you."

They stared at each other in wonder for a long moment, Logan unable to keep from studying the face that had grown up from a boyishly handsome visage to the classic stunning good looks any model would kill for. He sensed that James was doing the same to him, noticing the few differences there were (not much more than a few inches of height, sadly, making Logan self-conscious), and finally had to look away from the scrutiny.

James lowered the hood of his jacket to expose longish brown hair that was messy from being under cover. "I wondered if I'd see you again."

"Well, you saw me. I need to close up and get out of here, so I'm afraid I'll need to ask you to leave."

A touch of panic flashed briefly in eyes that appeared green in the fluorescent lighting. "Don't make me go back out there. I know they're waiting for me, they just can't leave me alone."

"Are you sure you're not a little paranoid, James?"

"You know my name?"

Logan shrugged. "You're the most famous thing to come out of Minnesota in twenty years. I'm sure everyone around here knows your name."

"That's the problem. I came here to get away, I just need to go somewhere that nobody knows me. I thought this would be the place."

"You're a local hero, James. You're not going to escape fame here. Look, I'm sorry but I really have to close up. If the alarm isn't set by a certain time, the owner gets a call and I-"

"Fine, is there at least a back door to this place?"

Logan hesitated, then admitted, "There is, but you can't use it. It's for employees only."

"Dude, please. I just need to escape, help me out here."

About to argue that it would possibly get him fired, Logan suddenly realized it didn't matter because this was his last shift anyway. "Okay, fine. Give me a few minutes to clean up and we can leave at the same time."

"Cool. Thanks."

Habit had Logan throwing out the drained yogurt from the day, which he'd always found wasteful but as it couldn't be served again the next day, there was no choice. He stopped himself from dropping the last bit of chocolate yogurt down the drain, reaching for a plastic spoon and walking the cup over to a table James had seated himself at to wait. "Here. Eat this or it goes in the trash."

A genuine smile crossing James' features, he grabbed the bowl and dipped the spoon into the frozen yogurt. "Thanks, man."

Logan nodded and resumed his clean-up duties, finally gathering the trash bags together and feeling James' eyes on him.

"Want me to get the door for you?"

"Sure, we're about to leave anyway. Hit the lights?"

James followed Logan's gaze and moved to the bank of switches, shutting off all of them so that the only remaining light came from a back room. He grabbed one of the heavy trash bags and trailed after Logan, who hesitated in the doorway and looked back at the room, letting his eyes roam and committing it all to memory.

"Come on, you act like you're never coming back here or something. Aren't we on a timer?"

Logan only smirked, not vocalizing that it was most likely his last visit to the place. "Yeah. Let's go."

After setting the alarm by the door, Logan closed it and followed James to a nearby dumpster. "I think you're safe, no paparazzi back here."

"Yeah. Thanks. Logan, right?"

"Right," Logan answered slowly, thinking they'd done things backward by kissing before even exchanging names. Did James even remember that kiss? Did he remember anything of his life before Hollywood took over? More importantly, did it really matter? Logan supposed it didn't. One more thing to leave behind the following day when he boarded a plane for Los Angeles.

The irony wasn't lost on him that James had finally come back from L.A. just in time for Logan to go there. One of life's twisted games.

Once the trash was dumped, Logan reached into a pocket for his ever-present hand sanitizer, offering James a squeeze of it. "You gonna be okay to get home?"

"I only live a few blocks from here, I'm good. I don't know how they found my house, though."

"Is it the same one you lived in before you moved away?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I've heard that fans come through here and take pictures of it. Not really hard to find, James."

James sighed, rubbing his face with a hand and then blinking rapidly. "Ow. That burns."

"Never rub your eyes immediately after sanitizing," Logan smirked.

"Thanks for the warning. This sucks, now I'm gonna have to move. Again. All I wanted was to come home and pick up my life where I left off."

Remembering exactly where James had left off with him, Logan dropped his gaze while his cheeks heated up. "It's not that easy. You can't just pretend you were never gone."

"Sure I can. The people around here will treat me like they always did before, right?"

"Doubt it. Though maybe in time that'll change. Maybe in time you can just be...normal. Is that what you want?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I want. It's why I moved back here."

"Well. I wish you luck with that, then. Goodnight, James."

James watched Logan walk to his car, trailing slowly behind. "That's it? You're just gonna leave?"

"Tomorrow's a busy day, I have a lot to do tonight." He unlocked the door and opened it, glancing back at James once. "You're gonna be okay. I promise."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Logan smiled. "The town will welcome you and before you know it, it'll be like you never left."

"I'd like that." Closing the distance between them, James waited until Logan was seated behind the wheel to step up and rest an arm on the roof. "See you around?"

Knowing it was never going to happen, Logan shrugged. "I guess you never know. I didn't think I'd ever see you again, but here you are."

"Here I am," James agreed quietly. "Listen, we never really-"

Afraid of where James might be going with that, Logan didn't give him a chance to finish. As he had done only twice before in his life, Logan acted without thought and reached up to drag James down by the shirt for a kiss, this one longer and more intense for the fact that he wasn't in shock this time. James might have been, but Logan knew exactly what he was doing this time and took ownership of James' mouth, surprising a gasp from him before he responded in kind as if he'd been waiting four years to do this again.

For all Logan knew, he had been. Logan had spent four years thinking about it, was it really so hard to believe that James might have, too?

The electricity was back in full force, shudders coalescing in Logan's navel area and traveling down between his legs to pull a soft groan from him, which seemed to flip a switch in James. He kissed Logan harder and attempted to pull him from the seat, but that was enough to wake Logan up. With an effort he pushed James away, gasping for air as they stared at each other, and managing to speak four words.

"I have to go."

Before his resolve could fail him, Logan started the car and slammed the door shut. James' shocked face through the window haunted him the entire drive home, but all Logan could do was laugh in disbelief—both at the fact that he'd actually done it, and at the irony of the situation. Just like James had, he would be flying to California the next day, saying goodbye to the life he knew and starting a new one.

Only this time he wouldn't be the one left behind wondering what it all meant.

Four Years Later

The next four years were a crash course in life for me. Coming from a small city where I'd never had real friends or anything even close to a girlfriend, I was thrust into a world where those two symbols determined status more than they had in high school. There I had been able to bury myself in studies and ignore the social aspect of it all; in college it was impossible to escape because outside of classes, I was surrounded by it from morning to night.

I didn't escape unscathed. I got drunk twice, went on a few random dates, and even found myself a real live girlfriend. She stayed with me for nine months before summer break came along and she returned home to reconnect with an old flame. As for me, I never went back home, not even for the holidays. I kept myself busy with a part-time job in a bookstore (an apt place for an aspiring writer, I always thought) and Mom came to visit me over Christmas each year. Though she continually begged me to come home for the summer, she understood the demands of a job and the need to make my own way. She met my roommate once, the same guy I roomed with for the duration of my college years, and felt better knowing I wasn't spending all of my time alone.

After graduating, I packed up the last of my belongings for the first trip home in four years. I'd worked my last shift at the bookstore earlier in the day, and had to admit I would miss it. The job, the excitement of unpacking a new shipment of books each week, the people. I'd miss my roommate, too. At least there'd be no girlfriend to miss.

As I lay in bed thinking about the upcoming return home to my old life, I couldn't help but let my mind touch on James Diamond. Had I thought of him at all during the four years away? I'd be lying if I said no. I never consciously went looking for news about him, nor did I stumble across anything more exciting than a few magazine covers at the grocery store in the first few months. You'd think working at a bookstore I'd have seen more, but somehow I got lucky. Maybe we just didn't carry the tabloids that speculated about him so much in the early days, or maybe fate was giving me a break.

Did I think about the kisses? Sometimes. I couldn't help but remember them when my girlfriend kissed me the first time. I couldn't even resist comparing her lips to his, her kisses to the all-consuming fire his brought to life in my body. And yes, the second kiss had woken up the dreams again, at least for awhile. Once I was so homesick that I spent a Saturday binge-watching every episode of "Class Act" and wishing I could go back to that life where I was obsessed with figuring out something so simple as a kiss. That was also the night I got drunk for the second (and last) time, spending half the night throwing up and somehow in my drunken haze blaming James for all of my problems in life. When I woke the next morning I vowed never to drink again and to forget about James Diamond the way I had before.

I was successful in that until packing my last suitcase, when I found a DVD of his stupid show in a box I'd shoved under my bed. I almost threw out the damn thing, but in the end it went into my suitcase.

Why? I don't know. Maybe because it was a part of my childhood I couldn't bear to part with. Maybe because when I was feeling hopelessly lost and alone, it was that show that got me through it.

Or maybe because James Diamond kissed me like the characters I secretly wrote about in my romance stories. For class I'd written "normal" stories, most of them not about love at all. I had notebooks filled with other stories, though-ones where a knight in shining armor rescued a poor farm boy from evil, or a lonely scientist created the perfect android best friend only to fall in love with him. We don't have to talk about what the knight and android looked like, do we? Or the fact that the characters I created all looked like two particular people?

No. We don't.

So maybe deep down he never left my mind. But did that mean I was ready to see him again? What I realized as I laid in bed mentally preparing to return home was that I honestly didn't care. I had no idea if he was still living at home or if he'd moved or if he'd rebooted his acting career. I didn't want to. The last thing I needed was to get caught up in that game again. We were even as far as I was concerned, each of us moving on to our destinies.

Mine would bring me back to Lake Valley, and to my mother. Everything else was up for grabs.