❤ Chapter Thirteen ❤

Together, we strolled down the nearest street, weaving among the crowd. Logan's smile proved to be a rare sight as he kept his distance the entire way. Though the busy sidewalk made it difficult for conversations, we attempted at some chitchat.

"How was your day?" Logan asked.

"It was okay. How 'bout yours?"

"Just the usual."

"Hm."

Small talk. That was what it came to. I supposed I shouldn't expect anything more after meeting an ex after three years, attending a conference as his assistant, and watching him read a text message from a possible girlfriend. I reminded myself what Logan said about his relationship status just days ago, but from the way he responded to the name, it was obvious.

Logan and I walked down a few blocks. To our right, rows of trees wearing twinkling blue lights on their outreached arms stood in a line. As we passed numerous couples holding hands and groups of friends laughing, uneasiness washed over me. Though my heart was elated to be next to him, I hated it for being fickle and weak. I hated him for showing any sign of concern back at the parking lot. Though he was detached just as two days ago, the tiny glimmer of care I saw in his eyes was enough to wake the beast inside me who hoped for something more. What I hoped for, I wasn't sure, but I hated that I hoped for anything at all. Part of me was happy for our time together, while part of me was spiteful he couldn't stick to his decision. On Saturday, he seemed to be counting down the minutes 'til he left and never saw me again, yet today he was leading me to a restaurant to talk over drinks and dessert? With each step, my conflicting feelings disturbed me, along with the mysterious name from his phone. He wasn't playing fair, tugging at the corners of my heart with his every move. I was never one to be led by the nose. It just wasn't in my Gilmore blood. Frustration boiled in my stomach just as Logan asked.

"How are the articles coming along?"

"Fine enough." My tone was curt without meaning to be.

It caught his attention. He was attuned to my emotions like many years ago. From my peripheral, I saw his head turn to me while I focused on the road. "Something sure doesn't sound fine."

"What makes you think you know me so well?" I tried to hide my discontent.

"Wow, okay, so something's really wrong." He dodged the bench by the sidewalk, slightly leaning into me.

My shoulders tensed. "Actually, I wanted to thank you for asking Peter to extend my deadline." I tried for politeness to sway the direction where this conversation was going. "So, thank you very much."

"You're extremely cordial tonight." I felt him observe the side of my face.

Frowning, I picked up my pace. "You're extremely observant as always."

Easily matching my speed, he said, "And I observe something's wrong."

"No, Logan. It's just…"

"It's just?"

My brows tightened. Why did he have to care? Making sense of my frustration, I blurted out, "I don't know what this is, or what you're thinking. I can't figure you out. I dislike not knowing. I like to know things no matter how mundane they are. The Big Dipper consists of seven stars. Green folders equal interviews. A JooJoo's entrée comes with exactly twenty-eight fries."

"I'm impressed at your ability to count salted, fried vegetables."

"You're not taking me seriously." Scowling, my footsteps halted at the light.

Logan stopped beside me and sighed as he lowered his head. "Ace, I don't know what this is either."

"On Saturday, it seemed you wanted to draw a line between us." I finally looked at him squarely. "So, as you can imagine, I'm a bit confused about this."

More people piled behind us, waiting for the light to change color. A sea of bodies surrounded me, but my vision was solely on Logan.

"I realized something that day." My heart flopped at his tone. He lowered his voice until it was barely audible above the street noise. "I think it's best for there to be a line between us."

I used every ounce of control to remain expressionless. "Okay, so why did you offer to treat me to dinner?"

"It doesn't mean we can't hang out as friends." He forced a smile while everyone around us starting crossing the street. We followed suit with the crowd pushing us closer together. My arm brushed against his and my heart rate peaked.

I wet my lips uncomfortably and looked up at him. "Friends?"

"Yeah, people do that you know. Make friends."

"Right." I couldn't stand his nonchalance.

A big, sturdy block of flesh hit me. Unfortunately, its owner's musky scent wafted into my nose just as Logan put his arm around my back. I was a pesky fly to the tower that was the man as he continued in his path without even a grunt.

"Thanks," I muttered and steadied myself as Logan withdrew his arm.

"He didn't even apologize." Logan scorned at the direction the man disappeared off to.

"It's okay, it was my fault," I said, still remembering the warmth of Logan's arm on the small of my back.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

There it was again, the concern. How I despised it. "Yeah, I'm fine," I quickly dismissed him.

I followed Logan down the sidewalk with a row of windows to our left. The frown permanently resided on Logan's face until we stopped by a small place a block away. Basking in the warm lights, he instantly looked to be in a better mood.

"This is it, Ace." Logan waved with a smile.

I examined the pub in front of us. Wood frames stuck out from the store front to create a canopy over the metal tables and chairs on the patio. The seats were filled with people roaring slurred words and hoarse laughter. My eyes automatically landed on the plates of burgers in front of them as my stomach churned. I looked at the entrance and saw a dark, metal archway with a wooden plaque that dangled with metal chains from the top. On it were the words "The Lion's Den" in black, rickety writing. Behind the doorway, red lights showered down from the ceiling, creating an atmosphere of carnal vivacity. Music came from inside, the beat bringing my pulse up a notch. As my spirit embodied the dynamic ambiance, cravings and adrenaline took over my body.

"Come on." Logan led me toward the doorway with a grin. Feeling excited under the music's influence, I smiled back and followed his lead, my stomach getting ready for some grease and carbs.

❤ Leap of Faith ❤

An enthusiastic hostess dressed in a skin-tight leather dress bounded toward us as Logan and I walked through the door.

"For two?" She batted her glittery lashes at the man beside me.

"Yes, we would like a booth in the back please." Logan gave her a charming smile.

Consequently, the girl's limbs melted into a pool at her feet. The menus previously clenched in her hands were now dangling for dear life. I was honestly thankful for her obvious display as it assured me I wasn't imagining the powers of Logan's smile. I sympathized with the girl.

She led us through the busy pub, with bars and tables in dark black and mahogany oriented around a small stage. A band was riling up the crowd on the dance floor. As we moved toward the back, entering a separate space, the music grew softer and conversational noise filled the air. Finally, we arrived at our booth with black leather seats and a dark wood table. Logan and I slid into the opposite sides.

The girl passed us our menus and asked, "Would you like something to drink?" She looked at me.

"A club soda, please." My answer came out automatically. So, I wasn't exactly a risk-taker when it came to drinks.

The girl gave me a smile and turned to Logan. "And for you, sir?" Her voice was a baby's coo.

Logan threw her his signature smile. "Macallan neat for me, please. And a martini with a twist for the lady."

Oh, I should have expected it, I thought as the girl walked away with a final look flashed Logan's way.

"Thanks for the drink. You didn't have to."

"You're welcome." Logan nodded. "You look like you needed one."

I grimaced. Great, I was definitely right about me looking like a mess. Reaching for the menu placed in the middle of the table, I asked. "How did you find this place?"

"Finn, Colin and I came here a few times a year ago."

"You were here a year ago?"

"Yeah. We came here for a week. Sort of missed the old streets of New York. Sirens blaring, brakes grinding on the concrete, seas of yellow taxis in traffic and all that jazz." A smile split his face

"Very understandable. What's not to love?" I snickered as I thought of when I first moved here. I remembered the intrigue of feeling the subway trembling underneath my feet and the pool of faces all around me no matter which corner I looked. It was sensory overload, a welcomed distraction that went well with the fast paced life.

"I assume you moved here a year ago?" Logan cocked his head slightly.

"How did you know?"

"My brilliant mind of deduction." The too-familiar smirk touched his lips. "I read your articles for the Obama campaign, which lasted two years."

"I see you've put your Yale degree to good use." My lips rounded as I couldn't help but feel my heart lift knowing he read my articles.

A server placed our drinks on our table, interrupting our gaze. I didn't waste any time reaching for the glass. Sitting across from Logan with his caramel eyes fixed on mine made me beg for a sip. He was right about me needing a drink after all.

"Any recommendations from the menu?" I asked as I opened the laminated red and black pamphlet before me.

Instead of looking at his menu, Logan set it aside. "Are you feeling adventurous?"

"Are we talking about Mr. Life and Death Brigade jumping out of a moving plane adventurous?"

He chuckled. "More like the time you tried Sri Lankan food adventurous. But, hey, we can do the jumping stunt afterward. The night view will be amazing."

Sri Lankan food. Memories of our dinner years ago came to mind. I remembered how I tried to make him stay the night, despite his early meeting the next day. I found his glimmering eyes irresistible under the dim moonlight as he sat beside me in the car. My teeth tucked at my bottom lip. "I think some greasy pub food would do for today. Not sure I would be able to keep the food down free-falling at a hundred miles per hour."

"That's what I thought." He gave a boyish grin. "I was thinking we can try the Chef's Special."

"Which includes?" I glanced at the title on the menu. It didn't offer any information beyond the name.

"Well, for the lack of a better explanation, it's basically whatever the chef feels like cooking that day. The few times I've dined here, I've had escargot to Pad Thai."

"That's an impressive cultural range."

"So, you up for some questionable, mystery meat, Ace?" Logan leaned into the table and grinned.

Just then, a server came to ask if we were ready to order. I gave Logan a nod, letting him know my answer. He looked up at the young man and ordered two Chef's Specials. Before the server left, I quickly added. "With extra fries on the side, please." Logan gave a knowing smirk.

"Wow, extra fries. It must have been a really long day."

I grimaced. "You have no idea how long it takes to research the regulation and violation of pets on leashes in New York parks."

"Ah, somebody has to speak up for our canine friends."

"Well, yes. Although it's not a presidential campaign, I do like covering a wide range of topics."

Logan leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, examining me. I felt self-conscious of the wayward strands of hair that were probably sticking out of my ponytail. "Peter only gave you an extension 'til Wednesday?" He said, "I told him I would appreciate it if he could let you decide on the pace."

"No, Logan. It's fine. I'll be done by then. It's already a huge step for him to give any extension at all." Certainly, no other figure at the City Gazette could have convinced Peter of such a generous act.

"Are you sure? I could ask him again." The space between his brows wrinkled.

A warmth filled my chest at his display of concern. I inwardly cringed. "I'm sure. Thanks again for asking for the extension."

He watched me for a second, his lips pursed. Then, he gave a tight smile. "That's what friends are for." He raised his scotch and drank with his eyes on me.

His gaze intensified as the word "friends" hung in the air. I quickly grabbed my drink and took a gulp. The burn traveled down my throat, joining the fire pit in my stomach. A question lingered in my mind, struggling to break loose on my lips. Feeling the burn of gin in my stomach, I mustered a light tone. "Logan, shouldn't we address the fat elephant in the room before we claim to be best buds?"

"What are you talking about?" His eyes were hooded. He was going to avoid the conversation at all cost. I had a feeling it was so he didn't lose his temper.

My throat contracted, swallowing my nerves. "What happened at my graduation?"

"What's there to talk about?" I watched as another gulp of scotch went down his throat. "I proposed to you and you turned it down." His body was stiff.

"Logan… I'm sorry about how it happened. I should have explained further, better. There was just so much left unsaid." He continued to drink silently. I added in a bare whisper, "You know I loved you."

For a slight second, Logan stopped in the middle of his sip. Then, he downed it. "Just not enough." He pursed his lips and shook his head a little while placing the glass on the table.

My brows furrowed. "It's not that. It was the timing, the place you chose to propose. It was horrifying. You know how much I disliked those parties and being the center of attention, especially in front of all my grandparents' friends who I didn't even know."

I held my breath, afraid another fight would break out, but I saw the fire slowly die in Logan's eyes. He murmured, "I know I screwed up. It took me a while to realize, but once I got past the humiliation and hurt, I realized I was at fault for springing it on you."

His confession deepened the ache in my heart. "I feel like there wasn't any closure between us… then, you just left. I couldn't even reach you."

"I'm so sorry, Rory." Logan's face softened as he leaned toward me. "Believe me, I realized how big of an idiot I was. I thought you didn't love me enough and didn't want to marry me. I was caught up in my pride and anger. I thought you would move on and find a great guy." He paused, "And, well, you did."

I stared at him, words failing to come to me.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you," He quickly added with a smile.

I muttered the first words I could think of. "I just don't want there to be any hard feelings between us, although I know that's a ridiculous thing to ask after everything."

His expression was pained as he spoke. "Rory, I blamed myself for everything. I was never truly mad at you. It was all to not hate myself more than I already did." He pursed his lips. "I can't tell you how many times I regretted what I did and how I handled things." He stopped, his eyes darkening before mine. "But I realized that there's no going back. Too much has happened. I'm not the same person anymore and couldn't give you anything even if you were single."

My breath hitched in my throat. His words sucked all the air out of my lungs, but with time, I managed to sound unfazed. "What do you mean? Care to elaborate?"

"A lot has happened over the past years. I was so mad and tried everything I knew to get over you. I'm not proud of some of the things I did, but they happened." His face didn't carry any clues to elucidate his explanation.

I found myself nervously downing my drink. Why would he say that? Should I press on? I chickened out and played it safe, relatively. "So, you suggest we be friends?" I deadpanned.

"Well, it's either we be friends or strangers and I would rather be able to see you and talk to you every once in a while." His previously serious expression shifted. His charm was in full display as a small curve kissed his lips. "So, it's either best buds or not seeing each other at all." He leaned back into his seat with an easy smile flashed my way.

"But so much has happened between us-"

"Are you saying you rather not see me?" He quipped, raising an eyebrow.

I shifted in my seat, knowing he was a pro at this sort of debate. "No."

"Okay, so it's settled then, we're friends." He cocked his head to a side.

The way he was playing with my words was all too familiar. I wasn't giving in without a fight. "It's that easy, huh?" I chortled.

"It's that easy." He nodded with an amused smirk. "So, give me your number and enjoy your meal as my friend."

I scoffed, "You're a bossy friend, I see."

He broke into a grin, his eyes glimmering in the light. Reaching into the inside of his suit, Logan pulled out a card and pen. He wrote down something on the back and slid it across the table.

I picked it up and saw, what I assumed to be, his number and address scrawled on the white card. I looked up and was met with his expectant face. I sighed, knowing he had beaten me in his game of twisted words once again. I couldn't possibly explain to him that I was unsure of being "friends" because my heart jumped out of my chest whenever I saw him. That, I was certain, was not in the definition of "just friends". If I wanted to keep any shred of sanity, I had to stay away, but against my better judgement, I reached for his pen.

"I have to warn you, I don't have a fancy card like yours."

Logan's smile spread further across his face, lighting his eyes. He handed me another card and I scribbled down my number. Once I was done, he took it from me and tucked it safely into his pocket, his eyes watching me.

I held his card in my fingers and studied it. His writing was the same, messy but in a professional way. However, the number and address were as alien as the idea of being just friends with the man sitting across from me.

Probably sensing my doubt, Logan persuaded again, more gently. "Ace, I wasn't lying when I said it was good seeing you again. I want to be part of your life even if it's on the side, watching someone else give you happiness." Then, he added in a lighter tone. "Ergo, I want us to be friends."

I lifted my head and saw a light dimple kiss his cheek. Allowing happiness from someone else. I couldn't help but feel that he was willing me to do the same for him. Maybe a certain Amelia was giving him happiness, the thought flicked through my mind. I wasn't in any position to be jealous even if he was in a relationship. I was in a relationship myself. Stable and loving, nevertheless. I had Sam and I loved him, my conscious reminded me. Holding onto Logan's gaze, I carefully arranged the muscles on my cheeks into a smile that matched his.

❤ Leap of Faith ❤

"Thank you." I nodded as the waitress removed my empty plate. With a burger holding some chewy, mystery meat and plateful of fries in my stomach, I sat back with content and looked at the gorgeous view in front of me. Logan, my ex turned "friend", smiled back. The buzz in my head from the martinis relaxed me.

With curved lips, he watched me from across the table

"What?" I raised my voice above the music that now ringed in my ears louder than pre-martinis.

"Since we are such good friends and all, what do you say we play a game?"

"Depends on if it involves prizes with glittery stickers and chocolate pudding dessert."

His eyes twinkled under the soft lighting as he grinned. "Considering Finn was the one who invented it, I can't make any guarantees, but maybe he'll agree to the stickers."

"Finn invented it?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"Yup, he was drinking while playing it, so he calls it 'The Drinking Game'."

"Creativity at its finest." I nodded. "So, does this drinking game have rules, or do you just drink, as presumed by the name?"

"You'd think it's that simple, but it's got complex rules, where the complete mastery of the game requires tact and audacity." He leaned into the table.

Drawn to him by an invisible force, I placed my elbows on the table and sat closer. "You can't judge a game by its title, they say." I grinned.

"We take turns asking each other questions-"

"Like twenty-one questions."

He raised both eyebrows and nodded. "Yes, but the other person has to answer the truth-"

"Oh, so like truth-or-dare."

"Yes, but if one refuses to answer, the person who asked the question has to drink."

"That doesn't make sense for the questioner to drink just because the questionee won't answer." I mused, certain the alcohol hadn't clouded my thought process just yet. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"Ah, that's the beauty of the game. It's psychological. You have to think about your questions."

"Why can't we just play the normal way where the questionee drinks if he or she can't answer?" I challenged.

"Because we're better than that, Ace. Normal's boring. Normal's overrated." Logan grinned as his eyes locked with mine.

Feeling woozy, I grinned back. "Are you going to explain the tact and audacity part? Because it's a bit hazy."

"Basically, you have to calculate the question you ask and the way you phrase it, such that you get a response that's informative to you, but is also considered safe to answer by the questionee."

"Hm." I could think of a hundred questions right off the bat. Though, I wasn't confident they were questions one would ask a platonic friend. "So, if you get the other to chug more shots, do you win or lose?"

"There are no winners or losers in Finn's 'The Drinking Game'."

I snickered. "Well, there certainly aren't any winners."

Logan gave a flippant grin. "You in or out, Ace?"

When gin circling through my bloodstream, I looked at him with my chin raised high. "Bring it on, Mister."

❤ Leap of Faith ❤

I counted the glasses in front of us. Six. One for every year Logan and I had known each other. I never considered my alcohol tolerance to be that great and worried about what I had gotten myself into. I licked my lips nervously.

"Don't worry, Ace. I'm an open book," Logan offered.

"And I'm a frigging encyclopedia." I frowned. "What do you, Colin and Finn have to ask each other about anyway?"

"Sorry, can't disclose that without their permissions." He grinned with mirth.

I was now suspicious of his motives. He eyed me expectantly, a smile never leaving his face. I rolled my eyes and picked up the shot glass. Holding my breath, I downed the liquid and felt the burn journey through my throat and into my stomach. My eyes glared into his, letting him know I meant business. "Your turn, Mister."

He thought for a while and asked. "How did you find the conference on Saturday?"

"I enjoyed it a lot, if you mean the day portion of it." He did say we had to tell the complete truth. Besides, the drinks I consumed might have loosened my lips a tad. I noted he was starting with easy questions and followed suit. "What's the best part about New York since you moved here?" There, a generic question.

Logan looked me in the eyes as his smile faded. "Sorry, Ace. Strike two."

"What?" I pouted. "Why can't you answer tha-" I stopped my protest as I stared into his eyes. Something told me he was serious. Bells went off in my head, echoing off my skull. Could it be me? My heartbeat loudened against my ears as I reached for another glass. This time, it didn't burn. My body was already scorching.

Logan leaned forward in his seat, eyes boring into mine. A faint frown tainted his features. I swallowed, preparing for his question. "Since we are such good friends and all, can I ask you a personal question?"

"Are you going to keep throwing that phrase around?"

"Maybe."

"How personal is personal?"

"Very."

Feeling the effect of the two shots I downed, I said, "Let's hear it."

"On a scale of one to ten, how happy are you with Sam?" Each word slipped off his tongue with care.

A dizzying force plummeted through me. I guess I should have drank more before challenging him to his question. I tried to think about the answer, but my brain was swimming around in alcohol. I stuttered, "Uh..."

What was I suppose to say? Sam was sweet and considerate. We loved each other. He always made my day a bit brighter, no matter how horrible of a time I was having. He made me happy. Would that make the score a ten? But, the question was how happy was I with him. Where was the threshold for a satisfied relationship and what was the maximum for how happy you could be?

I said, "How happy one would rate oneself in a relationship on a scale is very subjective, don't you think?"

"True, but I want to hear your answer."

I bit my lip as I looked into his eyes. "No, I don't believe I want to answer your question."

Logan grabbed a shot in front of him, and drank with his eyes never leaving mine. His jaws were tightened and his gaze hard. I continued to sit there with uneven breaths as my eyes were locked with his. No, just because I didn't answer him didn't mean anything. I wasn't able to contemplate such a deep question in my alcohol-induced state. It wouldn't be fair to Sam. It wouldn't be fair to me. It didn't mean anything about what my answer would have been. The sudden seriousness in his question threw me off and irritated me. Two can play at that game, I scowled.

I asked my next question. "I was wondering who the Amelia who texted you the other night, and made you all tense and jumpy could be." My words were acidic, but I had enough shots to not care.

Logan's eyes widened briefly, before he composed himself. He propped his elbows on the table and appeared unfazed. However, I knew him better than that. I saw the way his shoulders tensed. He replied, "A good friend from Cali. We talk once in a while."

Goosebumps broke through my skin as my pulse quickened. "Okay. It's nice to have friends," I muttered awkwardly, not trusting that he told the full story.

A ringtone filled the air, marking an end to our glares. Logan reached into his pocket and took a look at his phone. I watched as his jaws clenched slightly. His eyes darted to me before he answered.

"Hey." His tone was soft. "Is everything okay?"

I looked down at my knotted fingers placed on the table, feeling like I was eavesdropping on an intimate conversation.

"Yeah, I'm sort of in the middle of something."

What were the chances that that was Amelia? Heat crept up my neck as I felt foolish for asking my previous question.

"Okay, I'll call you later, all right?" I heard Logan click off his phone.

An incomprehensible emotion took over me as I felt the need to have Logan's fullest attention. To drag his mind away from my question, and from whoever it was on the phone. I raised my head and looked him straight in the eyes. Head swinging, adrenaline and alcohol pulsed through me. I heard my voice in the air, above the music playing in the next room. "Do you want to dance?"

Holy crap. The words registered in my brain. I felt my cheeks heat up as I stared at Logan. For the second time that night, I caught him by surprise as his eyes widened. He didn't say a single word. Instead, he straightened his suit and stood up. I was frozen in my seat as I watched him walk to my side and extend a hand. A small curve sat on his lips as his eyes shone.

Oh my god. What have I done?! I shouldn't even be allowed within feet of this man, yet now, I was about to dance with him. I inhaled and nervously placed my hand in his. I braced myself for the contact, but it was no use. The firm touch of his warm fingers wrapped around mine brought chills down my spine. My heart imploded into effervescent waves as the air whooshed right out of my lungs. I got up and walked with his arm around my back in a daze. All I could do was pray that my knees wouldn't give in. I felt unsteady on my feet as the room swirled across my view. My body leaned into his firm grip as he led me toward the music.

❤ Leap of Faith ❤

After what felt like a tortuous infinity, we arrived on the crowded dance floor. A sweet, slow melody was playing, as couples swayed to the steady beat. Logan pulled me toward him, until we were inches apart. I let him take full control as spots danced across the room. Note to self, do not ever play Finn's "The Drinking Game" ever again. As I faced Logan and let him guide our bodies to a slow swing, gradually, my vision somewhat recovered. I saw his mussed blonde hair glowing underneath the lights. His eyes, the color of clear honey, sparkled my way. His lips were curled upward, exuding a warmth that matched his gaze. We swayed to the music, looking into each other's eyes. This was the closest I'd been to him since our years apart. Every characteristic of his face was exactly as I remembered. The curve of his cheekbones, the tip of his nose, I could remember them all. I had traced them with my fingertips as we lay in his apartment, on many Saturday nights. I had kissed the stubble on his chin, indent on the corner of his lips, and nuzzled the crevice of his neck. Images, so vivid and dangerous, flooded my dizzy mind. Logan Huntzberger and alcohol. The most lethal combination of all. The melody boomed against my eardrums, the singer's voice silky with affection. I knew I was leaning heavily against Logan's arms, but my feet just wouldn't stand firm. This was dangerous. But I couldn't stop studying him, couldn't stop relishing the feel of his hand on the small of my back, his chest inches from my body, and my arms around his neck. We didn't say a thing, not wanting to break the trance. Feeling his grip gently tighten against my body, I inhaled as my breathing sped up. Watching his face, my unsteady gaze couldn't help but lower to his mouth. Suddenly noticing the dryness of my lips, I licked them swiftly. The thought came to me, abrupt and unwavering.

I just want to know what it would be like. The voice clung on to my eardrums, resounding against every surface. My heart pounded in my head, my blood infused with alcohol running rapidly through my veins. I just want to know what it would be like. I looked at Logan, and the gentle care in his eyes was my undoing. Boiling blood rushed to my brain, clouding my view. I felt my face lean in, closer and closer, edging toward my goal. His arms stiffened and his body froze, but his lips, those lips, remained inches away. I couldn't hear anymore. I couldn't even think. Don't think. Just do. Demons escaped their confinement as my conscious was defeated by the expanding, burning veins in my body. My eyes were solely on those lips. Soft and pink. When I was so close that I could smell the familiar scent of his breath, I closed my eyes.

My heart stopped beating, in anticipation of the soft contact.

Thanks for reading and please leave a review.

Because school started, I can't write as often as I use to. Though, I definitely want to continue the story and share it with everyone. Your reviews inspire me and I'm thankful for all the readers! :)