A/N: This is a pretty lengthy chapter, but it's filled with Kogan goodness. Enjoy! ;)
The songs that inspired this chapter are:
"Fader" The Temper Trap
"The Engine Driver" by The Decemberists
"Take My Breath Away" by Berlin
I love The Temper Trap, and I particularly love "Fader" by them. I think the song suits the constant bantering between the Kendall and Logan. It shows their love is unconventional and imperfect.
I chose "The Engine Driver" because I think from Kendall's perspective it completely sums up his life. He's not from money like James Diamond and he has a dark past, but he has so much love to give to Logan. He wants to be many different things, but he doesn't have the resources to change his life. He feels like he'll never be able to live up to Logan's expectations, which is why we see his jealous when James Diamond's name gets brought up. I just also love how sad and broken the lead singer sounds in this song; it really helps capture Kendall's mood.
Finally, I chose "Take My Breath Away" because it's a timelessly beautiful and sexy song. Enough said. ;)
Enjoy and please review!
Relief washes over me when I close the front door. For one, I don't have to continue differentiating the different wars for James Diamond. And secondly, I don't have to convince him that I'm not harboring a fugitive in my bedroom closet. Granted, he may think I've lost my mind, but fortunately I don't think he figured out what was really going on.
I march into my room and open the closet.
"Can I help you?" Kendall jokes still standing casually in the closet.
"What's wrong with you?" I ask angrily.
"A lot, so you'll need to be more specific," he continues quipping with a straight face.
"Is everything a joke to you? You are terrible at keeping a low profile, by the way."
"Hey, it's not my fault your closet is so dusty," he says rubbing his nose for dramatic effect as he plops himself onto my bed.
"Okay, so you're forgiven for the sneeze, but what the hell was with all those other noises you were making in there?"
"Relax. Your little friend there had no clue. He didn't seem like he had any clue about anything actually."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I grimace.
"He didn't seem all that smart, if you ask me…"
I don't deny it, because let's face it, James Diamond isn't the brightest.
"Well, you didn't need to be so obnoxious!"
"What's the big deal anyway?"
"The big deal is… you should have kept it down, alright?"
"You're getting really defensive over nothing," he scoffs. "Did I ruin your date or something?" he teases.
I blush and ignore his question.
"Oh my god," he narrows his eyes. "That's the guy, isn't it? That's James Diamond!" he ridicules as he bolts up from the bed.
"W-what? No!" I try to deny.
"Yes, yes it is! That's the guy from your journal!" he exclaims widening his eyes in what appears to be disbelief.
"Shut up!" I yell in embarrassment as I cover my face with my hands.
This only causes him to laugh at my expense.
"He's an idiot!" he laughs in my face.
"Hey! He's a pretty idiot!" I defend as my entire face turns red.
"Oh, geez! You could do so much better than that half-wit!"
"Now you're just patronizing me," I frown.
His laughing calms and he looks at me with seriousness.
"No, I'm not. You're chasing after someone who doesn't deserve you—someone who's probably more in love with his comb than he'll ever be with anything or anyone else," he rants.
"You don't know him," I say in James Diamond's defense.
In truth, it's also partially in my own defense, too. I'm slightly embarrassed for liking someone that lacks any depth.
"Oh, but, what—you know him?" he challenges.
"Okay, maybe not, but I know that he's kind. He certainly isn't constantly making fun of me, unlike a certain someone…" I stare at him to drive the point home.
"I'm just honest with you," he smirks. "You don't need someone that nods their head and just agrees with you all day."
"What's wrong with that?" I frown.
"It's boring!" he groans. "Don't you want someone to tell you when you're being a dick?"
"Absolutely not!" I exclaim as I blush.
"Admit it, you do… You want someone that stirs something inside of you—changes your world—someone that excites you, and makes you feel like you've never felt before," he says looking me dead in the eyes.
I try to appear unaffected by his charm.
"What—and just argue all day?"
"Yes!"
"What? Now you're just talking crazy," I roll my eyes.
"I'm serious! Love shouldn't be tamed. It's not going to be clear skies all the time. It's hard work, but it's worth it, because it's about fighting for something that is fucking worth it!"
"I think we have very different ideas of what love should be," I say quietly.
He closes the gap between us. He grabs my hand and holds it to his heart. I let out a small gasp and my breathing halts.
"You need that fire," he explains as he looks into my eyes, perhaps more intimately than either one of us is used to.
"Maybe I don't want something as destructive as fire," I counter, swallowing nervously. "Maybe I want—"
"What?" Kendall interrupts. "Something boring? Something predictable?"
I'm offended. He doesn't know me. He doesn't know what I want.
"No, not boring or predictable. But well-managed… controlled," I rationalize.
He scoffs at me, which stings a little, if I'm being honest.
"Love shouldn't be about control. It should be irrational, desirous, and all-consuming. It should be passionately fiery can't-live-without-you love," Kendall declares.
I'm not entirely sure whether these were the beautiful words of a romantic or the deceptive words of a criminal, but I'm captivated by Kendall's poetic depiction of love. I've never experienced it, love that is, but now—more than ever—I want to. But every time I feel like I can just be myself around him, I have a voice reminding me that he's not just any guy—he's a guy with a dark secret.
I compose my noticeably adoring face and simply say, "Well, I was never a fan of the heat anyway."
The tall blonde smiles from ear to ear—exposing his dimples—causing my heart to skip a beat.
"I'm sure you like the heat just fine," he grins.
I realize my hand is still placed on his chest, so I retract it.
"You just need to be more careful when people are around," I caution him, intentionally changing the subject.
He just grins and jumps back on my bed.
"So, what should we with all of our free time?" he asks bouncing his eyebrows up and down.
I try and pretend I'm too oblivious to detect his suggestive tone.
"I have board games," I blurt out because of nerves.
I instantly want to face-palm myself for suggesting something so lame.
Kendall doesn't laugh or tease me for it though. He simply smiles at my obvious embarrassment and shrugs.
"Sure," he says.
"Really?" I ask in astonishment for him not ridiculing me for my complete lameness.
"Yeah, why not? What do you have?"
"Um, we have Scrabble, Monopoly, Game of Life, Boggle, Checkers, Chess, Backgammon, Connect Four, Parcheesi…" I ramble on like the social piraya that I am.
"Why don't you just surprise me," Kendall interrupts as politely as possible.
I nod and run out of room and dig through the stacks of board games in our coat closet. I go back into the room with the Game of Life in tow.
"Is this one okay?" I ask self-consciously.
"It's absolutely fine," he gives me an assuring smile.
I smile sheepishly and join him on the bed. I lay out the board games and set up all the pieces. I can feel his eyes on me as I do this, which only makes me feel more self-conscious.
"Want to help me?" I ask so he'll be busy with something other than staring at me.
He nods and helps assemble the remaining game pieces.
"How exactly do you play this game?" he asks surveying the colorful board.
"It's fairly straight forward. You spin the roulette here and then whichever space you land on you either gain money, lose money, or have a life event happen. At the end of the game, whoever has the highest net worth wins," I explain.
He scratches his head, but goes along with it anyway.
"Here, I'll go first and show you," I chuckle.
It's kind of cute how baffled he looks right now. I realize I'm staring at him, after I told him I would take a turn first. I spin the roulette and move my game piece. I notice that his game piece is green—his favorite color. I then notice that I chose the red piece by pure coincidence. Or perhaps it was instinct.
"Red's a cool color. It means you're passionate," I recall him saying the other day.
Kendall takes his turn and spins. After a few rounds he gets the hang of it and we play without any hiccups. I never realized how easy and tedious this game is. I used to love playing it any chance I got. Then again, the last time I played this game was when I was thirteen. I was much more easily entertained back then.
By the end of it, I beat Kendall with a net worth of over $1 million compared to his $955,000. Both of us end up married, with him having three kids, two of them being twin girls, and me with two kids—a girl and a boy.
"Shit, if only this were real money," he says fanning his stack of money, clearly not too disappointed with his earnings.
Right then, I can't help but wonder if what he's being pursued for has something to do with money. Maybe he robbed a convenience store. I don't know, but then again I wouldn't since we still haven't talked about it. Every time I try, he changes the subject. I guess if I'm being honest, a part of me is also scared of what I may uncover, too. Maybe ignorance really is bliss.
But my curiosity—and perhaps stubbornness—proves greater than my fear.
"Are you ever going to tell me?" I ask when I can't hold it in any longer.
"Tell you what?" he says in a low voice, keeping his eyes intentionally down, which signifies me that he knows exactly what I'm talking about, but just trying to dodge the question.
"You know what."
He looks up at me, and his jaw tightens.
"I told you—you don't want to know."
"But I do," I begin.
"No," he cuts me off abruptly. "You think you do, but when you find out, you'll regret asking me. I'm not…" he struggles finding the right word. "I'm not like you, Logan. I'm not… good."
I have an inexplicable urge to hold him. He looks so wounded and tormented. I don't know what he's hiding from, but all I know is there is more to him than what's on the surface.
"I don't believe you," I say.
He looks at me and slightly narrows his eyes.
"I'm a bad person," he claims.
"I don't believe you," I reiterate. "I don't believe that you're as bad as you claim. Truly bad people do bad things without any remorse, without the slightest flinch. You, other hand, every time I bring it up, you have this look of guilt and burden…"
"You really are innocent," he scoffs, which slightly offends me.
Does he think I'm some foolish kid who can't judge a person's character?
"Don't patronize me," I defend.
"Then don't interrogate me," he counters.
It's sharp and serious. He's quite intimidating like this, so I drop it for the time being, but his refusal to give me any answers only makes me want to find out even more.
His face softens like it always does once he knows we've crossed a potentially hostile line, so he composes himself as he's so good at doing and apologizes.
"I'm sorry. Can we just play another game?"
I want to tell him that I feel like he's been playing nothing but games with my head, but I refrain from doing so. I simply nod, but am not happy that he coerced me to give up so easily.
We continue playing a few more mindless board games to pass the time. I can see why people typically play these games during rainy weather. They should be called bored games instead. But as mundane as the games become, I'm still completely content with just being with him. We talk and laugh about everything and sometimes absolutely nothing. He makes it easy for me to just be me. I can't say the same when I'm with others.
When the games no longer hold anymore entertainment for us, we pack them away. By this time, both our stomachs grumble constantly, so I go whip us a quick dinner. Kendall acts as my sous chef and even puts on a fake French accent to make me laugh as we cook. It's bizarre how much he makes me smile and laugh, when I still know so little about his past.
After dinner, Kendall stretches and tells me he wants to shower.
"Unless you want to join me," he flirts, which embarrasses me.
I shake my head and tell him he can go first.
While he showers, I decide I should call Mom. She tells me she'll be back late tomorrow, which is fine by me. The longer she's gone, the easier it is to keep her from finding out about Kendall.
"Nana told me to tell you hi," she says.
"Tell Nana I said hi, too."
"I will. How has it been at home? You aren't too lonely, are you, sweetie?"
"No, I'm definitely not feeling lonely these days," I reply cryptically, which doesn't matter because knowing Mom she won't catch on.
"Well, that's good, honey. Oh, which reminds me, you should probably call Camille. She left a few very disconcerting voicemails on my phone earlier this afternoon."
I roll my eyes, because that's just like Camille—always with the melodrama.
"Okay, I will, Mom. Thanks."
"Well, alright, I'm going to have dinner with Nana. I'll see you tomorrow night then."
"Alright, Mom. I love you. Bye."
After I hang up with her, I call Camille, because she's called at least another half a dozen times since this morning. As the phone rings, I dread what will inevitably come my way.
"Logan Mitchell, you scared the shit out of me!" she yells as soon as the line connects. "I thought you were dead!
"Camille…"
"I even called your mom after you wouldn't answer my calls!"
She continues to ramble on like usual.
"Camille, listen…"
"And I was even about to call the cops and have them search for your mutilated body, because I was sure that somebody had murdered you after you didn't answer my fourteenth call!"
"Camille!" I yell through the phone.
This finally catches her attention and she pauses long enough for me to get a sentence in.
"Camille, I'm fine, alright?" I say in a lower and gentler tone once I know she's listening.
"Then why have you been avoiding all my calls?"
"I'm not. I've just been… preoccupied."
"With who?" she interrogates.
"W-what? There's no guy! I mean, no one! There's no one."
"Oh my god, I knew it! Who is it? Tell me! Tell me!" she shrieks.
"There's nothing to tell, Camille," I say.
"It isn't James Diamond, is it?"
"No!"
"Oh my god, it is! Weren't you two supposed to do the Korean War assignment together this weekend?"
"It's the Battle of Gettysburg! Does no one know the different battles and wars but me? And yes, we did do the assignment together today, but that was it."
"Don't lie! You totally went down on him, didn't you?"
"No, of course not! He has a girlfriend, Camille," I remind her.
"Pssh! No guy with hair and skin that nice is straight. I mean, have you seen the boys in my theater group?"
"Camille, can we just drop it? I'm not with anyone." Which is true; I'm not. "I just wanted to call and let you know I haven't been avoiding you."
"Right, you've just been 'preoccupied'," she snickers.
Even though I know she can't see it, I roll my eyes.
"Alright, I'm hanging up now," I warn her.
"No, wait!"
"Bye, Camille," I say as I press the red button to end the call. Right before it ends the call, I can still hear her muffled voice chattering away.
My head turns when I hear the bathroom door open. Kendall comes out with wet and disheveled hair and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. I nearly have a heart attack on the spot. He looks absolutely heavenly…
"Who was that you were just talking to?" he questions.
"Oh, that was just my friend Camille."
"Just a friend?"
"Yeah," I scoff at his unnecessary question.
"I don't think she sees you as just a friend. No friend calls that many times a day."
I barely have had any time to check my phone the past few days, yet he's aware of how many times Camille has been calling me? Has he been monitoring my phone?
"We're just friends," I say flatly, getting tired of everyone assuming things about my nonexistent love life.
"Is she in love with you, too?"
"Too?" I ask, addressing his odd choice in words.
"What?"
"You said, 'is she in love with you, too?'" I repeat.
"Did I? I mean, is she in love with you?" he backtracks as he clearly his throat. For the first time I see him blush.
I smile proudly, because for once I put him on the spot and made him get flustered.
"I don't know. I think at one point she liked me. Maybe she still does, I don't know… But it doesn't matter."
"Why's that?"
"Because I don't feel that way for her."
"Do you feel that way for anyone?" he probes.
I think about his question for a moment, and to be candid, I'm not sure I have a clear answer for myself even.
"Yes," I simply reply.
His face almost appears to light up upon hearing my response.
"And who may that be?" he questions further.
"You already know," I say pensively.
"Tell me anyway."
"James Diamond," I say.
Something about Kendall's expression changes. He almost looks… hurt?
"Oh. James Diamond. Right."
"You seem surprised," I observe.
"Well, I guess I shouldn't be. Who doesn't like a rich pretty boy, right?" he asks rhetorically, but there's an undercutting tone in his voice.
"That's not why I like him," I defend.
"Oh, that's right, I forgot. It's because you know him so well," he says sardonically.
Now I'm the hurt one. Does he think I'm that superficial?
"I'm going to go shower," I say to prevent anyone from getting hurt any further.
"I warmed it up for you," he purrs.
"W-what?" I stammer.
"The shower. It's all nice and toasty warm."
"Oh. Right," I chuckle nervously.
I disrobe when I get into the bathroom. I'm still irritated that Kendall keeps adding his two cents about James Diamond. Who is he to tell me who I'm allowed to like?
I turn the faucet on until the water is nice and hot. I feel the tension build up in my neck and shoulders. I've been so stressed I need some form of relief. My hand moves down south until I get to my manhood. I gently rub it until a small moan escapes. I close my eyes and I think of James Diamond. I think of his flawless beauty. I picture his naked body in the shower.
I start from the bottom—with his athletic legs. I slowly scan up to his toned thighs, then up to his manhood, which makes me blush. I move up his happy trail that passes through his ripped abdominals, and all the way up his long torso up to his perfectly sculpted chest. His broad shoulders strain, exposing all the muscles that ripple as I continue to touch myself. When I get to his face, instead of James Diamond, it's Kendall that is smiling back at me.
I'm momentarily taken by surprise, but then I look into his green eyes and I instantly relax. I somehow feel safe in his gaze. I try to picture James Diamond again, but for whatever reason, I can't seem to gather enough details to piece together his face. It's almost as if I've forgotten what he fully looks like, which has never happened before. All I can envision is Kendall's face. It's in sharp clarity. I see every detail of his face as if he's truly standing in front of me.
I begin touching myself again, as I trace the contours of his face. I clutch myself even tighter and begin stroking myself more rapidly, with an animalistic urgency. I'm moaning and panting—I'm deliriously crazy for him.
I feel myself being pulled closer to my climax. I'm so close… until the bathroom door opens.
"Hey, sorry, I'm just going to comb my hair," Kendall says barging in.
I abruptly stop. I'm both mortified and irritated at his timing. After he leaves, I contemplate on resuming what I was doing, but the moment is gone and I'm too embarrassed that I fantasized about him to begin with.
I quickly towel-dry my body and get dressed. I go into my room, where Kendall is studying my bookcase as he listens to music. He definitely shares a strong love for music like me.
"What song is this?"
"It's by The Decemberists," he informs me. "It's called Engine Driver."
"What's it about?" I ask as I continue to towel-dry my hair.
"It's about being in love with someone, but no matter what or who you try to be, it's never good enough for them," he tells me with an almost blank gaze. "But no matter how hard you try to fall out of love with them, it's impossible."
"You speak about it like you've been in love before," I note.
He looks up at me with life returning back to his eyes.
"Maybe," he grins. "Have you?"
"No," I say looking timidly down at my feet.
"No? A pretty thing like you?" he teases.
I blush like usual.
"Why do you always do that?"
"Do what?"
"Always make comments like that. I can't tell if you're joking or being serious," I state.
"Does it make you uncomfortable?"
"No, not really. That's not the issue."
"Then what's the problem?"
"Forget it," I say, dropping the subject altogether.
I climb into bed, and my clean skin feels so good against the cool sheets.
"Who were you in love with?" I ask curiously.
"Huh?"
"You said you were in love with someone," I remind him.
Kendall stands from across the room and appears to be thinking about something.
"Not 'were'—are," he smiles somewhat nervously.
"You're in love with someone?" I ask.
I'm strangely curious, but even more significantly I'm slightly jealous. The feeling is contradicting my logic.
"Yeah, but just like the song, I don't think he feels the same way."
"Wait, 'he'?"
Suddenly, it feels as if the floor has dropped beneath me. And by the look on Kendall's face, it looks as though he realized he slipped on his words. That's twice today that he's done that. Is his cool façade beginning to falter?
"Yeah," he says quietly. "I guess you and I have a lot more in common, huh?"
"You shouldn't be ashamed for liking a guy."
"I'm not. Only problem is, I've never liked a guy before y—him."
"There's no shame in that either," I try to console him.
He still looks embarrassed for revealing so much, which is a new side to him that I haven't seen before.
"If it makes you feel any better, I've never been kissed," I confess, hoping this embarrassing piece of information of me will help him feel better about his.
"You're almost eighteen and you've never been kissed?"
"I suppose," I say under my breath.
"I'd thought you would have a line of suitors just waiting to put their lips on you."
"Thanks," I blush. "Well, when was your first kiss?"
"I was thirteen," he replies assuredly. "The girl was older."
"How old?"
"Fifteen, sixteen, I think."
"A cougar, huh?" I joke, hoping to ease the tension.
It works, because he laughs.
I don't know if it's because of the hot shower, but I'm suddenly very relaxed—not tired, just relaxed.
"Are you tired?"
"No, just very cozy right now," I say in a soft dreamy tone.
Kendall turns off the stereo and the lights, as well. He slides into bed with me, which takes me by surprise because I had forgotten I invited him to sleep in my bed last night. I did it out of kindness—and maybe a little out of sympathy—but I didn't realize he took it as a reoccurring invitation.
He acts normal about it, so I try to play nonchalance, too. In truth, it's slightly awkward for me being this close to another person. I'm usually so closed off with people, even with my own mom at times, so this is something I'm not used to.
The moon is full and luminous tonight, thanks to the clear sky. It shines partially through my window, illuminating my room with a soft and pale blue hue. We lay face-to-face, which would normally make me feel uncomfortable, but right now I feel something inside of that I can't quite describe. It's almost a stirring of emotions, and they're boiling, ready to pour out of me.
A searing desire to be touched by the enigma comes over me. I know it's crazy, but the uncanny hunger I feel for Kendall is powerful and overwhelming. He looks at me like I'm special, like I'm worthy, like I'm… loved. I need to feel loved by someone. My entire life I've had people walk out of my life, but here is someone who has come into my life.
I want to kiss him, but I'm scared of being rejected. I'm also scared of how badly I want him. This isn't like me. I'm usually in much more control than I've been lately.
"Logan?" he asks in the dim blue-tinted room.
"Yeah?"
"You've never been kissed by a guy before, have you?"
The question comes out more as a statement. I blush, but humor his invasive question anyway.
"I told you, I've never been kissed by… anyone," I state, blushing a deeper red.
"I've never kissed a guy. I've always wanted to try it."
"Oh," I say breathlessly.
Is he implying what I think he's implying?
"Logan?" he practically breathes out.
"Yeah?" I say just as breathlessly.
"Don't move."
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to kiss you…"
My breathing hitches and my heart nearly collapses upon hearing him say this. I see him moving closer to me, looking at my lips. I look at his as I feel us inching closer, although it feels as if I have barely moved. It's almost as if a magnetic force is slowly pulling us closer. I feel that odd sensation coursing through my veins again. We both feel it. We both want it. We both need it. The tension builds until it's consuming all of me and practically begs for contact with him. His delicious scent surrounds me, and before I realize it my eyes slowly close.
I don't see it happen; I only feel it happen when his soft lips press against mine.
I let out a soft moan, and so does he.
I move back for an infinitesimal moment, only to move back in and kiss him again. His warm lips immediately welcome mine once more. Our bodies shift closer together until I feel his body press gently against mine. I run my hand up behind his neck and pull him in even closer. Our mouths move in synchronization and slowly our mouths part unison. I feel his soft tongue brush against mine, swirling and molding with mine. Our mouths marry and dance in a sensuous way. The sensations coursing through me are electrifyingly strong. Every ounce of me feels alive, invigorated. Our kiss deepens and I'm in sheer and complete bliss. Feeling this good should be criminal.
I return back from heaven when his lips move from mine. I slowly open my eyes and see the beautiful green gems staring back at me. He plants a small tender kiss upon my lips, which is just as magical as I expected it to be.
He caresses my face with his long index finger. Goosebumps form all over my body with just one touch from him. I lay still, taking in the moment, taking in the sweet smell of him. My whole practically hums with joy and delight, as I slowly drift into dreamy slumber.
"Sweet dreams, Logan," he whispers to me in the darkened room.
And sweet dreams they are…
