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Logan has his shirt off, all the boys do, but it’s Logan that I can’t stop staring at. He’s gorgeous. Black hair, dark eyes, muscles that ripple with every movement. A fine sheet of sweat covers him and I’ve spent the past twenty minutes imagining caressing my fingers along the lines of his chest. His jeans ride low and I can spot the tip of his black underwear.
I breathe in deeply. Logan wears briefs and it looks like the type that’s tight to him. I breathe out. God, I’m attracted to the boy. But that’s not new information. My fingers brush my lips and I recall how it felt when Logan kissed me in my bed. The weight of his body over mine, the pressure of his tantalizing lips, the intoxicating smell of dark spices.
I’m warm, very warm, and it’s not due to the summer heat.
West picks up the last bale and hands it to Noah who gives it to Isaiah who hands it to Ryan who gives it to Logan who finally offers it to Chris. Each of the boys are weary, exhausted, and I don’t have the heart to ask how much they are making doing such backbreaking work. I hope it’s a financial windfall. I hope it’s enough to offset the way they sway on their dead feet.
In silence, they gather their things and I have no doubt they’re heading for the cabin. There’s a small shower in there. Too small. And if the water spouting from the showerhead is anything like the water that drips from the sink it’ll look funky and smell just as bad.
West walks past and blows me a kiss. I flip him off. Isaiah’s my friend. Noah’s close to being a friend. West is what I would imagine it is like to have an annoying older brother.
Chris tosses his shirt over his shoulder and drinks from an almost empty gallon jug.
“Hey, Chris,” I say as everyone starts to leave.
He pauses by me, giving the rest of the guys enough space to ease past and us enough privacy that I can ask while not feeling like a fool. “If I’m stuck here, I want to help.”
Chris sizes me up and I bristle with his assessment. I’m too small and not strong enough. It’s written all over his face. I could hang for a bit with them though, but I’m not stupid enough to think I could hang with them the entire time. But still, I could help.
“Can you drive the tractor? I feel like an idiot being on there with them working their asses off and nobody will switch with me.”
I bite my bottom lip. The answer is no. I barely know how to drive, let alone drive a tractor, but I’m bored and I hate feeling useless. “Sure.”
“Good. Thanks.” He glances over his shoulder at Logan. “Do me a favor and give him a break. I can understand why you’re mad, but...”
The glare I give him causes Chris to not finish his statement.
“Just give him a break.”
“Are you saying that because you feel sorry for him?” I blurt, irritated that he thinks he has the right to voice an opinion on my life. Like what Logan confessed to him regarding me was Logan’s business to share. “Because Logan admitted he has diabetes you want me to pity him?”
Chris works his jaw. “I’m saying it because he cares about you, but if you can’t get past what he told us, maybe you shouldn’t give him a break. Maybe I should drive you back to Louisville now.”
I wither, but Chris doesn’t see it because he strides off. I don’t know Chris that well. I only know Ryan and him through the occasional time Logan has brought me along to participate in whatever craziness he was interested in doing with Ryan and Chris. Pissing off my host, not my plan.
Logan shoves his shirt hard into his backpack and my head falls back. Pissing off Logan because he overhead that little conversation with Chris was most definitely not in the plan.
He snatches his stuff off the ground and stalks for the door.
“You think you’re the one that gets to be mad?” I demand. “You betrayed what I told you and then I find out you’ve been lying to me the entire time.”
Logan rounds on me, anger blaring from his eyes. “How is keeping my diabetes a secret any different from keeping your grandmother a secret from us? From me?”
“Diabetes is something inside you. Something you can’t change. Something that I’m guessing could kill you.”
“Like dealing drugs won’t kill you? At least you have a choice. I don’t. And so you know, diabetes isn’t cancer or a death sentence. My pancreas doesn’t produce insulin so I inject some into my body to make up for it.”
“It can’t be that simple.”
“You’re right, it’s not, but excuse the fuck out of me if I don’t want to be known as the boy with diabetes. The broken boy everyone feels sorry for and does things for because of pity.”
My words being flung back at me hurt. A sharp knife cutting into me over and over again. “I was mad. I didn’t mean what I said to Chris. This isn’t about pity or feeling sorry for you. You didn’t trust me!”
“You didn’t trust me, either!” Logan shouts then circles away from me. His chest expands and deflates at a rapid pace and he tosses his pack to the ground.
He threads his fingers behind his head and yells, “Dammit!”
I don’t flinch with his anger. Maybe because I’m just as mad, maybe because I’m too numb to emotion, maybe because I know Logan would never hurt me. Logan paces. Back and forth and each pass is less hurried than before. Finally, he halts in the middle of the barn and drops his arms to his sides.
