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Sailor
Itug off my riding boots and toss them in the corner before heading to the bathroom. My hair is a knotted mess, confirming I should’ve left it up, and my clothes are sweaty. But taking a much-needed ride on Sunni cleared my head.
I’ve been in a tizzy basically since I found out Logan was returning home. I am not the same timid high school girl with a crush. I’m not scrawny with arms and legs too long for my body. Men now find my freckles attractive and my name interesting. Logan Decker is not going to turn me back into that girl I used to be.
Jolene Alderman, Logan’s girlfriend, made my freshman year of high school unforgettable, and I don’t mean that in a good way. I couldn’t walk down the hallway without the cheerleaders making vicious remarks about my freckles, hair, and clothes.
After he and his perfect head cheerleader girlfriend graduated together, I made it my goal to transform myself. I had three years of high school left, and I wasn’t going to spend it being miserable.
I tossed out the oversized flannel shirts and loose-fitting jeans and exchanged them for clothes that hugged the few curves I had. I suddenly wasn’t afraid to show off my freckles and long legs, and the first time I wrapped them around a guy’s waist, I realized I had all the power.
I take off my clothes and toss them in the hamper before turning on the shower. As the hot water sprays down on my back, I stand there, letting it wash my old high school memories down the drain.
There is no use in revisiting the past. It was a long time ago, and I’ve changed. For all I know, he’s changed, too, but I doubt it. He was cocky and arrogant in high school, and from what I’ve seen of his NFL career, he’s still cocky and arrogant.
I finish up in the shower and grab a towel from the rack, using it to dry my hair before wrapping it around my body. I walk into my bedroom and throw on a pair of panties and a T-shirt. I’ll figure out what I’m wearing out tonight later.
I strip the bed down, figuring it smells like last night. When I snatch off the sheet, I nearly knock over the photo on my nightstand. I quickly set it upright and trail my finger over the glass.
“Don’t give me that look,” I say to my sister. “I’m not going to bring another guy over when my sheets still have a cologne scent on them. That would be crappy.”
I finish stripping the bed and gather everything in my arms, but carry on my conversation with Hannah, even though I know she’ll never answer me back.
“I know he was nice. That whole offering me breakfast bit was a first. But I’m not ready for breakfast and all that comes with that. We can’t all have what you and Holden had.”
I talk out loud to my dead sister at times. Crazy, I know, but it helps me. Mainly because I know the advice that she would give me about the revolving door of guys in and out of my life. Also, because I know she wants me to be happy the way she was with her husband. They opened Old Oak Stables together, had two amazing boys, and their love made every woman in Coree Harbor seethe with jealousy.
I am not holding my breath on finding love like that. I believe some people are blessed with it, and some are blessed with seeing it from the outside. I guess I’ve always been somewhat of an outsider.
