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I didn’t feel as uncomfortable lying on the bed next to Logan as I’d expected. Obviously, I was careful to make sure my robe was fully secured so I didn’t accidentally expose anything, and I kept as still as possible. I didn’t much fancy smacking him with my boobs if I turned over too fast. But I didn’t feel like I wanted to lock myself in the bathroom until I was dressed again either. Beside me, Logan seemed relaxed as he checked Facebook on his phone, but he too kept his body still. The only thing moving was his thumb as he scrolled the screen.
While he was distracted, I allowed myself to take some long, slow breaths, enjoying the sound of the rain against the windows. Now I was safe and dry, the booming thunder didn’t make me flinch quite as much, and my mind wandered to what we should have been doing. I’d imagined us having a couple of drinks on a vacant patch of grass while we waited for the music to start, sun beating down on our skin, and discussing the acts we most wanted to see and the songs we wanted to hear. Then, we’d move closer to the stage, maybe pushing our way through the crowds to get nearer to the front. We’d become absorbed in the melodies and the atmosphere, and we’d dance to the fast tracks and sway our arms to the ballads, laughing and joking, maybe teasing each other the way we had on the journey.
The reality wasn’t so disappointing. I mean, who’d have thought I’d get this close to naked Logan? The lack of disappointment wasn’t really related to our lack of clothes. It was related to the fact that we were still together, not returning home. Okay, the weather sucked, but Logan had been the one to suggest we stayed and he seemed pretty cool with how we were.
You know, almost naked on a bed.
Logan placed his phone on the bedside table and turned his head towards me. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
I reached over for my cup of tea, made in one of those tiny cups you get in B&Bs that, in spite of their smallness, still don’t have enough milk to make the tea taste good. But it was hot which was the main thing.
“Do you wish we’d gone home?” Logan asked.
“No, not at all. I was just thinking that even though we’re not doing what we planned, at least we’re still… away.”
Blowing rising swirls of steam from my tea, I realised how depressing my words sounded. I hadn’t meant them to be, though I couldn’t deny there was some truth to them.
“What’s wrong with being at home?”
I smiled. “Nothing. Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just good to be doing something a little different. Work and drinks in the pub on Friday nights don’t bring much excitement.”
“I know what you mean. I’m lucky that I get to go away for work sometimes, but that’s work. Going away for fun is much better. I should do it more often, really.”
“Well, if you ever need some company on a weekend away…” I trailed off, not wanting to push my luck. “Assuming we make it through this one, of course.”
Logan grinned. “So far, so good. For real though,” he added. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
His concern warmed me more than the hot drink in my hand. It
shone in his eyes; they narrowed ever so slightly, and the brown seemed to grow a little darker as he watched me. This was something new. Part of not really knowing him. Part of what I’d hoped to learn. I understood that he considered us friends – but what kind? The kind who knew each other in passing? We’d taken a leap that day – a massive one. But I never knew if he’d be there for me if I needed him. If something went horribly wrong in my life, could I pick up the phone and trust that he’d listen? Trust that he’d care and be there for me? I got my answer and then some. He’d picked up on something I hadn’t tried to show. It felt like a big deal.
“Yeah,” I told him. “I think so. It’s just sometimes hard not to get a bit disheartened with day to day life. You know, work, eat, sleep. Then the weekends, with hardly anywhere to go, and friends who are in couples and only want to hang out with other couples.”
An almost blinding flash of lightning illuminated the room and I jumped, my hands instinctively holding my robe in place, making Logan laugh. “I know what you mean. Kind of. I have the opposite problem. My mates always want to go out on the pull, and their only mission is to take home some random girl. I’m not really into that.”
“Not really into going out on the pull, or not really into girls?”
I was mostly messing around. I knew he wasn’t gay; he’d had a lot of girlfriends since I’d known him. But hearing him say he wasn’t into picking up women on nights out surprised me a little. Aren’t most guys our age into that? I’d never seen any evidence that he was, I just figured he wasn’t the kind to tell everyone about his conquests.
Again, I was hit by how little I knew him in some ways. He was like a jigsaw puzzle I had to piece together. The outline was in place, but the bits in the middle were incomplete. The image had begun to take shape, but there were vital pieces I hadn’t found yet.
“I’m not into one nighters. It’s not me. Girls get attached quickly, and I don’t want to be a douche who upsets women for the sake of getting laid.”
I wonder what that means for me – the girl who’s already attached. No sex involved.
“I’m not into that either,” I said. “One nighters have never been my thing.”
Logan reached over for his own drink, wrapping both hands around it to absorb the warmth. “So what is your thing?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.” Developing feelings for hot guys I have no chance with? “Often I feel like I won’t figure it out unless I break out of my comfort zone, but I don’t know how to do that. What does that even mean? Should I suddenly start going out and humping men I meet in bars? Get a new hairstyle? New clothes?” I shrugged again as I trailed off, my cheeks warming as I realised how much I’d given away about myself. The truth was, I was happy with my life most of the time, but when I’d thought about where I’d got to, reality slipped out of my mouth at the reminder of how lost I felt sometimes. It’s strange – people spend their whole childhood wishing to be an adult, but when they get there, it’s not quite what they expected.
“I hear you.” Logan released his cup with one hand and reached over to me, his fingers lightly brushing over mine before he gently squeezed my hand. “We’re probably a bit too young to worry so much, but the future is scary. I know people in their mid-thirties who are still trying to figure out who they are and what they want.”
With his fingers still closed around mine, what I wanted had never been clearer. I wanted this. I wanted lying beside each other on a bed, talking, listening, understanding. I wanted his hand in mine. To be closer, to touch, to kiss. To have him look at me the way I was sure I looked at him when I allowed myself to forget to be so scared.
He’d reached for me. He’d never done that before.
