Logan's eyes widened a little as he read the various posts on the internet. His research was insightful, yet not too surprising. Now he had a clear answer to his questions . . . And yet he was still helpless. He thought for a moment, then he typed a new question into his web browser's search engine. The answers that followed made his face turn red, heat was rising up in him. "Oh my G-"

"Logan?"

He closed the laptop and quickly put it aside. He didn't want his parents to know what he was doing at the moment. He didn't answer them, but they came in anyway. Logan looked at them sullenly. He was still annoyed by their last conversation. "What's up?"

"We want to apologize," his father began, sitting down on the desk chair. "You're right, we need to stop treating you like a helpless child and start seeing you as a teenager who wants to live his life without his annoying parents constantly looking over his shoulder."

"Do you both agree on that?" Logan asked, looking at his mother suspiciously. She nodded. "Yes. And, if you want, you can stay home this weekend, as long as you agree to some conditions."

Logan hesitated for a moment. Now that his parents seemed to have come to their senses, he certainly didn't want to push their patience, but he just had to ask them. "And what about . . . Camille? Can she come over?"

Logan waited until he was sure his parents were back downstairs in the living room, then he picked up his phone and typed a message: My parents are out of town for the weekend. Would you keep me company?

He waited for several minutes, impatient and a little nervous, then . . .

I would love that.

On Saturday morning, something woke him up, but he couldn't tell what it had been. Everything was quiet. He was alone, his parents had already left on Friday afternoon. When his cell phone rang for the second time - he assumed it was the first ringing that woke him up - he flinched . . . and groaned in pain. His muscles felt like they were on fire. A searing pain made its way from his shoulders down to his back, bringing tears to Logan's eyes. He tried to sit up; every movement made him grimace. 'What is happening?' he asked himself anxiously. It wasn't a relapse, because he was familiar with that kind of feeling. This was something completely different. Panic welled up in him. He was alone, and if this was something serious . . . no one could help him. Were his parents right in their worries after all? Was he really so endangered that he couldn't even survive two or three days on his own? His cell phone rang for the third time and this time he managed to turn so that he could pick it up. Without checking who was calling him, he accepted the call.

"Good morning. I hope I didn't wake you up." Camille's cheerful voice dispelled the pain from his body for a moment.

"No, it's okay. I just didn't expect you to call at this time-" As he spoke, his eyes fell on his alarm clock, and he was startled by the display. It was already ten-thirty. He had overslept. He cursed inwardly. He hadn't showered, he hadn't eaten breakfast, and he hadn't cleaned up yet . . . However, if the pain didn't get better soon, would he actually be able to do all these things?

"So, when are you coming over?" he tried to save the mood.

"That's why I'm calling."

Logan thought he heard a slightly disgruntled sound in her voice, and his mood sank even more. "You can't come?" he asked, disappointed. He straightened up, which was a mistake, because the pain returned immediately.

"I'll come, but a little later. My parents really want us to go out for brunch with my brothers. It's okay if I come over later, right?"

"Yes, of course," Logan said, trying to keep his voice sounding normal. Which wasn't easy 'cause he felt like there were thousands of needles stuck in his back.

"Great, I'll see you later. I can't wait to see you."

"Yes, me neither. See you later." He ended the call and took a deep breath. Okay, now he had more time. He got up from the bed and tried to stretch carefully, hoping that it would loosen his muscles. A big mistake that almost made him scream. "Damn it!" His cell phone answered his cursing with another call. Logan hoped it wasn't his parents. His concern was unfounded, 'cause it was Kendall.

"Hey man, sorry for not calling back until now. You texted me yesterday, but I was busy with the family. And by the time I read your message, it was already too late to call. So, what's up?"

"Kendall, I have a problem."

"I know, that's why you wanted me to get in touch."

"What . . .?" Logan was puzzled, then the pieces fell into the right places, and he sighed. "Okay, now I have two problems." As usual, he rubbed the back of his neck when he was feeling uncomfortable, and this movement made him groan.

"Logan? Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure."

"What's going on?"

"I . . . I don't know. I woke up, and . . . and my muscles feel like they're on fire, I can barely move, my body feels stiff, and-"

Suddenly, Kendall started laughing, hard.

"Hey, why are you laughing?"

"Dude, relax. You just have sore muscles. No need to panic."

"What?! No, that can't be it. I'm pretty sure that should feel different."

"Well, for people like me, yes. But for people like you, totally normal."

Logan blinked. "Sore muscles . . .?"

"Yes, absolutely sure about that. Um, I don't want to sound offensive, but how the hell does someone like you get sore muscles?"

Logan thought about that question. The answer was quite simple, but on the other hand . . . "Okay, now there are three problems."

"I'm listening."

"Well, you know I've had more energy lately than before. But the problem is this: I have more energy, but the same limits. And I forget that from time to time. But Camille doesn't. That's why she always makes sure that I don't overdo my exercises."

"And now you overdid it?"

"Oh, and how . . . But I was so frustrated with my parents, and you know Camille is coming over today to spend the weekend, and I wanted to be in a good condition for that, so . . ."

"Okay, I understand. And now you're worried how Camille will react when she finds out that you didn't listen to her."

"Yes."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that. You can't hide it from her anyway, at least not if your pain is as bad as you say. Take a hot shower, heat will ease the tension."

"Anything else?"

"Well . . . Massages can also help . . ." Logan didn't like the undertone in his friend's voice. "Yeah, very funny, Kendall."

"Hey, I was serious. A lot of things can happen during a weekend."

With those words, Logan remembered the reason why he'd sent Kendall a message in the first place. He had to swallow. "Kendall . . . I need to tell you something."

"Okay."

Logan thought about how to describe his 'problem'. "I think I might be ready to take my relationship with Camille to the next level."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Kendall?"

"Yeah, sorry. I was just . . . When you say next level, what exactly do you mean by that?"

"I've been feeling it for quite a while. My feelings for Camille are changing, in a good way. But I didn't know what it meant, so I consulted the internet, and . . . and it fits. I think I'm ready."

"Yeah, okay, but ready for what?"

"I'm talking about the physical part of a relationship."

Once again, silence. "Wow, okay. But when you talk about something like this, let me ask you first, how physical are you and Camille in your relationship?"

"Not much, besides the basics."

"Well, everyone has different things that they describe as basics. So, what are your basics?"

"Oh, you know, kissing, hugging, holding hands, cuddling, things like that."

"So, if I understand correctly, you're on first base, and you want to move to second base."

Logan frowned. "Um, why are we talking about baseball?"

Kendall sighed for a moment, then he began to enlighten his friend. After that, Logan said, "Yes, I think you're right . . . but . . . how am I supposed to do that? And what if she says no? I mean, I wouldn't hold it against her, absolutely not, but I also don't want it to spoil our weekend. Do you think she'd laugh at me? No, no, she wouldn't do that. But what if . . ."

"What if she said yes."

Logan's eyes widened. "Oh my G- . . . You're right, that would be even worse. I can't be ready for it. I will ruin everything. I . . ."

"Logan!"

". . ."

"Could you breathe for just two seconds? Hey, waiting for the right moment is never easy. But when the time comes, everything will fall into place. You'll see."

"Yes . . . yes, you're right. I overreacted. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for being in love. Just enjoy your weekend. And if you need help, call me."

"Okay, thanks, Kendall."

"Oh my gosh . . . I'm so sorry for being late. My family is impossible," Camille blurted out before she had even crossed the threshold. Logan smiled and closed the door behind her. "No problem. And it's not that late. We still have the whole evening ahead of us. In fact, I've already prepared a few things for us. I hope that's okay."

Camille looked around the living room but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. "Really?"

Logan noticed her look. "Oh, not here. Come with me."

She followed him up the stairs. "When are your parents coming back?"

"Not until Monday, that's for sure."

"Interesting," she murmured, wondering why she suddenly felt so excited and nervous at the same time. Logan led her to his room. Apparently, he had tried to make his usually sterile room more comfortable. There were table lamps turned on instead of the normal ceiling light and extra pillows and blankets on his bed. He had even tried to stow away some of his books so that they didn't get in the way. Camille recognized this by the fact that the table, which was usually full of books, was loaded with snacks and drinks this time. The curtains were drawn, and together with the pleasant light, everything formed a cozy, yet unusual atmosphere. She turned to him. "I'm not saying I don't appreciate the effort. But . . . Why?"

He shrugged. "Oh, no reason, really. Besides, you deserve it."

She happily rushed to him and hugged him tightly. Had she just heard him groan? No, because when she let go of him, he smiled at her. "I also got us a few movies for tonight. Just choose what you like."

"Okay, I'll choose the movie that doesn't contain a documentary."

Logan clicked his tongue. "Yeah, about that . . ."

"You're kidding, aren't you?"

"Hey, these are really good documentaries."

Camille sighed. "All right. Show me what you've got."

Logan handed her three DVD cases. All three were well-known Hollywood blockbusters. She looked up at him and saw him grinning. "Admit it, I got you, didn't I?"

Camille shook her head, laughing. "Idiot."

Logan felt uncomfortable. He tried not to show it, but he didn't think it was really effective. He'd taken Kendall's advice, but the hot shower hadn't helped much. And now that he was lying on his bed in a not-so-happy angle, with Camille's head resting on his chest, he had no way to loosen his tense muscles. He didn't concentrate on the movie anyway. Maybe he should . . .

"Okay, what's going on?"

Logan looked at Camille, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"Logan . . ." she said softly, stroking his cheek. "I can tell when something is wrong with you. What's going on?"

Logan sighed and began to shift into a less painful position. "Okay, um . . . You know how you always tell me to take it slow with my exercises . . ."

"And you didn't, right?"

He lowered his head. "Yes, that's right. And according to Kendall, I now have what normal people call sore muscles . . . And it's killing me."

Camille wasn't quite sure if she should be upset or worried. The fact that he hadn't listened to her, that he hadn't taken her concern seriously, hurt her a little, but on the other hand, she could imagine that sore muscles must be extremely painful for him.

"But how did you . . . I mean, your room . . ."

He grimaced. "Don't ask."

"Oh, Logan . . ." she kissed him on the cheek. He looked at her uncertainly. "Are you mad?"

"Well-"

"It's just that my parents were really weird again this week and behaved really strange. It wasn't an easy week for me. I needed to distract myself . . . and I guess I overdid it. I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you just say something?"

"I don't know . . . I guess I was afraid that it would make you angry and that it would ruin our weekend."

"I really wish you'd told me right away."

"Yes, I-"

"Because I know a way that could help you with your pain."

"What . . . what are you talking about?"

Her smirk made him swallow. "Do you trust me?"

He didn't even bother to think about his answer. "Yes, I do."

"Then lie down."

He wanted to lie on his back, but . . .

"Other side."

He hesitated for a moment – was she serious? – but then he did what she told him. Nothing happened for a moment, then he felt her soft hands in his shoulder and neck area. "Oh . . ."

"Too strong?"

"No, not at all. This is . . . That's great."

"Then I suggest you just relax and let me help you."

"I'm fine with that," Logan replied in a whisper, closing his eyes . . .

. . . When he opened them again, he knew something was different. Confused, he turned to the side and saw Camille curiously leafing through one of his books. He reached out and touched her arm. She looked up and smiled at him. "Hey, you."

"What happened . . .?"

He could read the answer in her face. His eyes widened and he groaned. "Please don't tell me I fell asleep . . . how embarrassing . . . I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

He shook his head. "No, it's not. I . . ."

Camille put the book aside, slid over and snuggled up to him. "I forgive you." She saw that he was still feeling uncomfortable and stroked his hair soothingly. "Don't think about it," she whispered and kissed him gently. Logan felt himself relax and put an arm around her. His muscles felt better. He only wished he'd gotten a closer look at how Camille had done that. His thoughts were interrupted when Camille put her hand on his chest and began to caress him. Now his thoughts wandered to the reason why he had made all this effort in the first place.

"Are you okay?"

Camille's slightly worried voice snapped him back to the present. "Sorry?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"Your heart," she answered, running her hand over that spot in a gentle way. "It's beating like crazy."

Logan would have liked to curse. What should he do now? What should he say now? He felt his mouth go dry; his palms began to sweat. "Uh . . ."

"Hey . . ." Camille lifted his chin a little so he couldn't avoid her gaze. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

He nodded weakly. "Yes," he managed to say, but his voice was little more than a whisper, forcing him to clear his throat. Then he slowly sat up, nervously rubbing his palms against each other. "Camille . . . There's something I need to tell you . . . I . . . I've been thinking about something . . . About us . . . nothing bad, rather the opposite. It's just . . . I . . . I don't want to say or do something that could destroy this relationship, you're too important to me for that. But I just can't ignore these things anymore, and to be honest, I don't want to. So, so I thought we could, maybe, maybe we could . . . deepen our relationship, you know? More than just kissing or cuddling . . . but . . . but as I said, I don't want to do anything that might make you uncomfortable, and if you don't want that, or aren't ready for it yet, then I'm definitely willing to wait, the last thing I want is to put any pressure on you. So, what I actually want to say is-"

"L-Logan-?"

Her slightly shocked tone didn't make him pause. "I know, it's too sudden . . . I was just worried about how you would react. Honestly, I'm still scared. Of the fact that I've ruined everything now. But-"

"Logan."

"But Kendall told me not to worry, but I do anyway because that's how I am, and now I don't know what to do, and-"

"Logan!"

This time he actually fell silence and looked at her blankly, confused by her startled expression.

"Your nose . . ."

Her words didn't make any sense to him. "Huh?"

"It's bleeding . . ."

It took two or three seconds, then he cursed and jumped up from the bed.

"Is it something serious? Do you want me to call someone?"

"No," Logan said, shaking his head, and put a hand under his bleeding nose as he hurried over to the bathroom. "It happens from time to time when I get too upset."

Camille remained sitting on his bed as she listened to his noises coming from the bathroom. She thought for a moment, then she got up from the bed and went to the bathroom as well. Logan stood in front of the sink and checked his nose in the mirror. It was no longer bleeding so much. Camille walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his back. "I want that too."

"What? Nosebleeds?" Logan asked absently, still busy with his nose.

"No," Camille replied, kissing the soft spot on the back of his neck. Logan slowly lowered his hand with the washcloth and turned to face her. There was still some blood on his face. "Really?"

Smiling, Camille took the washcloth from him and cleaned his face with it. Then she put her hands behind his neck. "Yes."

Logan didn't know what to say, but he felt his face twist into a smile. It must have been the stupidest smile ever, but Camille didn't seem to mind, because she smiled back at him. "Come," she whispered, taking his hand and leading him back to his room.

"And how . . . how's that going to work now?" Logan asked, no longer trying to hide his nervousness.

"Just the way we want it," Camille said, pulling him over to the bed. But then she stopped and looked at him uncertainly. "But . . . if you don't mind . . . There's nothing wrong with taking it slow, right? I mean, it's okay if we don't rush anything and set a pace that's good for both of us, isn't it?"

Logan smiled and put a hand to her cheek. "Yes, of course. Step by step."

She kissed him and he kissed her back. Then he felt her pulling him onto the bed. Camille wanted to lead the situation and Logan was grateful for that.