Author's Note: I kind of lied. This isn't the last chapter yet.
I had an idea to have at least a teeny tiny chapter that's all about Logan. So, yeah, here it is. :D

It's really short (so what else is new?) but I hope you like it.

Enjoy!

He wished time would stop.

He just wished the clock would stop ticking. If it did, he'll turn it backwards, back to the time where he saw her everyday.

When he saw her, it was a feeling he couldn't explain. He wanted her, oh yes, but his actions proved otherwise. He'll act obnoxious, make crude jokes, and enjoyed it when it made her mad. But no one knew it was a cover. A facade, really. He was afraid of what'll she think if he told her what he felt. She'll probably laugh, saying that he's an idiot for thinking she'll believe that nonsense.

The door to his room suddenly opened, and a girl walked in. Normally, he would've shouted to be left alone, but this wasn't just some girl he could raise his voice with.

"Hey," Lane called softly. "Feeling alright?" She moved closer to the bed where he was sitting.

Logan sighed. "So, what happened?"

"Well, like you said, she did get nuts about it. I think she was still shocked as hell to find out that we were related when I left her," she joked lamely.

Despite the heavy feeling in his stomach, he managed to crack a smile. It was really easy to not associate Logan with Lane, even sharp and perceptive Dana. Through her father, his cousin had inherited Mr. Thoms' Norwegian roots. Though she never said it out loud, Logan knew that Lane loved that. Sort of a connection to her bastard of a father.

"I heard what happened between you and Priscilla."

He scoffed at the sound of that name. "So? I don't regret it, anyway. She was just a distraction."

Lane grinned. "Really, I should be giving you a trophy for that. Although I was surprised Dana didn't beat you to it. From what you told me about her, I'm thinking she hates the Priscilla-types, eh?"

"I guess," he answered absently.

Sighing, Lane twirled a strand of her hair between her fingers.

Logan suddenly stood upright. "You're not telling me something," he announced.

Her eyes widened. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"I know that sign. You did that when you lied to me about when babies came from." He jumped from the bed. "Lane, what is it? Tell me!"

She stopped twirling her hair. "Crap. You got me."

"Of course I do. Now, tell me."

Lane breathed deeply and shifted. "She's leaving."

"Shit," he blurted out, and Lane jumped. "Don't do anything drastic, Logan," she said firmly. "I know you, and I'm warning you: don't do anything."

"While what? While the only girl I cared about hops on a plane and leaves me again?" he cried, the anger surging through his veins. Lane was insane. She really was.

"Listen to yourself!" Lane snapped. "Do you really think she'll let you stop her from going? Do you?"

"Yes!" he replied indignantly. He grabbed his Converse lying under the bed and clumsily put it on his feet. "I kissed her, Lane! I felt something, however cheesy that may sound," he added. "But she feels the same way. I know it. I can't explain it, but I know it." Putting on a jacket, he hurried through the door, never looking back.

Shaking her head, Lane whispered only three words.

"She already left."