chapter four

He stared at her blankly as she sat across from him at the table, avoiding his eyes. He heard her words, understood that she wanted to talk, but he didn't want to get into another fight, which he knew this was leading to.

"Were we not just talking?" he asked, evading the real meaning in her statement.

She sighed, "Logan! You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he said quietly, "I know. I just didn't think this would come up so soon."

"How long did you think we'd do this? It's been almost six months. Jesus, we're almost twenty-seven years old, Logan! We're too old for these friends with benefits relationships." During her rant she had stood up and went to the center island of the kitchen.

"You think I don't know that? My mom is still trying to marry me off to twenty year olds; she thinks I'm so commitment phobic, for Christ's sake."

Rory laughed, "You are."

"No, Rory, you are." He stood up and moved to stand in front of her, pushing her back into the ceramic counter, trapping her from going anywhere. Her cheeks flushed with anger.

"Excuse me? I am? Are you out of your mind?"

"No, actually, I'm not. Why is it I always come to your place?"

"I-I don't want to get in your way. You're busy," she stammered.

"No, you know you're not in my way, Rory," his voice almost like he was talking to a child.

"You're always the one to call the shots, Logan. You decide when you want me or a good fuck. I'm just…" she searched for the word, "there."

He stepped in closer, "You mean those nights meant nothing?" His voice was hot on her ear and she locked her wide eyes with his.

She couldn't lie to him; she was never good at lying. And to tell him the truth would be even worse. It would be admitting everything that they had was real. It was something that could not be done.

She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him away roughly, but he caught her wrists and pulled her back against him. "Why are you so afraid of this?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not afraid," she managed. "I'm just being logical."

"Cynical," he corrected. "You don't think it could be anything more than this. A few nights a week and the occasional dinner here and there, which judging by tonight, I have to beg you for."

"I was working, Logan. I don't call you during your work day and make you come home for lunch."

"Oh, and you've always worked until eight?" He voiced some of his thoughts that had been going through his mind while he waited for her. "Were you avoiding me?"

She looked over his shoulder, anywhere but his face. He pulled on her wrists slightly to bring her attention back to him and she looked him resolutely in the eyes, "Yes."

So she chose the alternate route, which would probably end in an all around last sucky twenty-four hours. He stepped back slightly and she moved around him back to the table.

"What do you mean 'yes'?" he asked.

"I think you're familiar with what the word 'yes' means, Logan." She was scooping kung pao chicken out of a carton and onto a plate.

He sank in the chair next to her. She offered him the carton and he shook his head. She shrugged indifferently and grabbed a plastic fork from the bag the restaurant had given them.

"Can I have an explanation of what you mean?" he asked, looking at her.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Well, I won't force you, but I won't be the one calling the shots if you don't. I want to know why I need to be avoided. Am I that repulsive to you?"

"An ultimatum?" She looked at him in shock.

"It shouldn't make that much of a difference to you because apparently, you and I have very different interpretations of our relationship. Yours being the more 'practical'," he used air quotes, "and mine being the illogical one." His voice had taken on a bitter tone and she looked away.

She held up her hand to stop him, "Stop right there. I never said what I thought our relationship was. And I certainly didn't call what you thought illogical. Who am I to judge your thoughts?"

"Why can't you just let this happen?" he asked, pleading with her. Yes, if he went back and saw his life in a movie, and this scene popped up, he would probably kick his own ass.

She pressed a hand to her forehead and he switched from pleading to concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Just a little headache," she said quietly. "Can we finish this tomorrow? I think I'm just going to go watch TV."

"Yeah, that's a good idea." He took her hand and led her to the living room, where there were still half empty boxes by the bookshelves and under end tables. He lay down on the couch and pulled her on top of him, so they were both laying vertical, her head resting on his chest, her small hands balling the fabric of his shirt in her fists. He picked the remote up off the glass table in front of the couch and flipped on the TV.

She fell asleep almost immediately to the sound of his heartbeat, still in her work clothes, completely exhausted from the day and he fell asleep not long after, basking in the feeling of laying with her, his arm wrapped around her waist, and ready to patiently wait for her to finally realize what he already knew.

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She woke up, under her warm down comforter in her own bedroom. Sometime during the night he must have moved her upstairs to her room. She rolled to her side, only to find the other half of the bed empty, the sheets still smooth and had no trace of being slept in.

She picked up the cordless phone next to her and punched his cell number digits. She got his answering machine; it was only six o'clock in the morning. "Why can't I just let this happen, Logan?" she asked, repeating his question from the night before. "Why do you always leave me alone when I don't want to be alone?"

Her voice fell to a whisper as she told him the biggest lie, "Those nights meant nothing."