December 26, 2010

Wallace is working at the Strand again today when I go to return the book. The glare he turns in my direction tells me he's heard Veronica's side of the story. I'm not winning friends there. He follows me back to the stacks and snatches the book out of my hand before I can return it to the shelves.

"Man, please. I need to get it to her." My eyes are pleading.

He shakes his head stubbornly. "No. She doesn't want to talk to you. Didn't you do enough damage already?"

"It was a misunderstanding. If she reads my note, she'll understand. I hate that I hurt her, but it wasn't intentional. My ex attacked me. That kiss, it wasn't consensual. I only want Veronica." I put my hands together, begging him.

I can see when he starts to relent, his gaze softening. "Please. I love her." It's a gamble admitting this truth to a guy I don't know about a girl I've barely met.

Wallace raises an eyebrow, but nods his head. "I'll give it to her, but I can't guarantee that anything will come of it. Once bitten, twice shy that girl is."

"Thank you. A chance, that's all I ask." Wallace laughs at my earnest expression. Not wanting to do or say anything to change his mind, I head for the door.

"Hey, Logan?" Wallace calls out to me and I turn my hand on the door handle. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "If you hurt her again, I'll hurt you."

"If I hurt her again, you won't have to, I'll do it myself."

Christmas is miserable. I spend the day watching movies and eating takeout with Mac and Wallace, trying to hide my funk, but neither one of them is fooled. Even my dad picks up on it during our call.

Finally, I break down and tell Mac and Wallace what happened.

"So he was hitting on you and then went and kissed some other girl?" Mac shakes her head in disbelief. "What a fucking asshole. Did he even know who you were?"

"No, but does it matter? He came there to meet me and still chatted up some girl he didn't know. Not to mention kissing some random girl who was all over him." My lips quirk down in a frown at the memory of seeing Logan's soft lips attached to some other blonde.

"But he didn't know what you looked like, maybe he was just flirting to find out if you were you." Wallace interjects, trying for some male solidarity. Both Mac and I look at him incredulously. "Yeah, he's an asshole."

"So that's that. I tried, but clearly it's not meant to be. I was right to keep off the dating scene. I obviously am not the kind of girl guys want."

"Or you just have terrible taste in men." Mac shakes her head sadly. "I don't think it's a matter of you not being enough."

"You didn't see the woman he was kissing. She was like sex personified, all curves and sultry attitude. He met me and then went for the upgrade." I can feel the tears building again and I take a deep shuddering breath, trying to hold them in.

"He's a fucking idiot."

"Yeah." My voice is small. The problem is that I don't think Logan is an idiot. I just can't unsee what I saw.

Mac and Wallace spend the rest of the night trying to cheer me up, but eventually I just go to bed early. I want to put the whole thing behind me and pretend it never happened.

Waking up today, I can still feel the pain, and I decide to give myself another day to move past it all. Tomorrow is Monday, and I am expected at work for a few hours so I will have something to keep me occupied.

Both Mac and Wallace have to work, so I have the apartment to myself. I know they are worried about me, but I will pull through. It's not like it was an actual relationship. I didn't even know him, not really.

Wallace comes over to check on me after he gets off work. He brings the notebook with him.

"I told him you didn't want to talk to him, but he was super pushy about it." Wallace's eyes crinkle as he smiles apologetically. He tries to hand me the book, but I flinch. With a sad sigh, he puts the notebook down on the coffee table. "For what it's worth, I think you should read what he has to say."

After ensuring himself that I'm not a danger to myself, he leaves to get ready for his date with Jackie. I try to fake enthusiasm for him, but I know he can hear the bitter tone to my words. A quick hug and I'm alone. Just me and the fucking notebook.

I stare at it like it's a poisonous snake. I don't want to know what he's written. Nothing he says can make any difference at this point. I thought he was someone else, but obviously I was wrong.

At least I know now, rather than after something happened between us. It's easier to pretend like there wasn't something between us when it's confined to the pages of a book.

It's definitely better this way.