Single
I spent the next few days avoiding Paris and not seeing or hearing anything from Logan. From what had passed in the newsroom, I wasn't too sure of what to say to either of them. Actually, it was more that I wasn't too sure of what to say to Paris. Logan I just wanted to avoid because, well, he's Logan.
Suffice it to say that my strategy did not work at all. Paris was now spending all of her days avoiding the newsroom, something I could handle in different circumstances, but she had stationed herself on the couch of our dormitory, watching CNN, and I had a feeling that she was thinking about Asher.
Logan, however, tracked me down, almost as if he had me bugged or something, and caught me just as I was getting my first dose of caffeine for the day.
"I knew I'd find you here," he said victoriously, sauntering up to me with that jaunt to his walk. "I didn't really peg you for a caffeine addict but then I've been wrong about you before."
"Oh? About what, may I ask?" I looked at him expectantly, but all he did was give me a weird look that suggested I was crazy and slyly avoided the question.
"How's your cold doing these days?" he asked instead, purchasing for himself a coffee from the vendor.
"About as good as Yasser Arafat used to be," I quipped.
"Aw," he said, slinging an arm around my shoulder as I started the walk towards the newsroom, "poor you. So, what's the situation with Paris and Doyle? Tell all, please."
"I actually don't know," I said as we fell easily into step. "Tell you what, when we get to the newsroom, you can ask Doyle that question."
"Naw," he said. "I think I'd like to keep my body intact, thank you very much. As much as I'd love to stir up the drama, I have to go anyways. Got a lunch date."
I have no idea why but this surprised me. Throughout this whole time I had assumed Logan was single and I hadn't considered the fact that he might have had a girlfriend in the background… somewhere. Then I realized that I shouldn't care whether Logan Huntzberger had a girl already.
I suddenly realized that for the past few seconds, he had been watching me… and smirking. I blushed and looked away, actually finding comfort in the fact that we were just coming on to the newsroom.
"Oh, look, the newsroom!" I exclaimed in a falsetto that I hoped would throw him off-track. In a falsely sweet voice and a falsely sweet smile, I asked, looking him right in the eyes, "Don't you have a lunch date right now?"
"Why, yes, Ace, I do have a lunch date," he replied smoothly. And that mischievous gleam was back in his eyes. "Thank you for reminding me."
Once again with the last word, he sauntered off, hands in his pockets and a whistle coming from his lips. I sighed in frustration at having let my emotions show and then I cursed myself for caring that he had a girlfriend in the first place.
