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I can still feel the zing on my lips where Logan’s mouth brushed mine. I’m giddy.
The intensity of his gaze set something alight.
I’ve always known that I’m not over him, but I didn’t think he could still have feelings for me.
My brain spins, conjuring up painful memories and unanswered questions.
I’m frustrated that I’m not closer to understanding Logan, or why my grandparents sent me on a wild goose chase to the care facility. I thought I’d find someone. A family member perhaps, or someone who could give me answers. Instead, I find Logan playing janitor. Is that why my grandpa sent me there? Did they know Logan would be there?
Maybe Grandpa thought Logan would open up to me. I laugh inwardly at the thought. Clearly, my grandparents don’t know Logan well enough.
The topic seems too painful for him to talk about, but I have to know what happened after his parents’ accident ten years ago. Why didn’t he talk to me about it? Why did he just shut me out?
And what was he doing at the care facility today? There’s no way he was there to do a bit of janitorial work.
Rousing applause jolts me and I join in, clapping with so much zeal, my palms start to sting. The music starts up again.
Logan turns to me and holds out his hand.
“May I have this dance?”
His voice is soft and silky, and the twinkle is back in his eyes as he grins at me. I place my hand in his and his warmth rises all the way up my arm, making my toes curl.
The next thing I know, we’re in the crowd of dancers. I’m wrapped up in his arms again; just like that, we’re back at Prom.
Only, this time, Logan’s face has lines. I trace the ones near his eyes. Then I gaze at the deep crease between his brows—a sign of years of intense worry and stress.
“Remember the last time we danced?” Logan asks. His eyes are glazed over as though the memory is playing out like a movie inside his head.
I nod. “Prom. We were standing right here, on this very spot.” Then I bite my lip. “Do you remember what you said to me?”
Logan’s pensive smile fades and he looks at me. “No.”
It’s a lie. His body has stiffened, and his eyes flashed dark.
I wrap my arms around his neck a light tighter. “You promised that you would never let me go.”
Logan’s hands flex at my waist and the side of his jaw bulges.
Then his eyes dart around the room. A camera flashes. He doesn’t need to speak for me to know what’s going on inside his head. He struggles to open up about his feelings at the best of times. In a crowded, sweaty gym full of thirty-something-year-olds, it’s almost impossible.
“It’s hot in here. Do you want to get out for some fresh air?” he asks, his voice sounding strangled.
I nod, happy for an excuse to get away from the prying eyes of our old classmates.
We hold hands. I can’t work out if it’s because of the people watching, or if it’s the fact that it just feels so natural to be holding Logan’s hand again; either way, I let a genuine smile settle on my face as we wave to people who look in our direction.
I couldn’t care less about the reunion. The only person I’m happy to be reunited with is holding my hand and taking me outside.
In spite of my good sense, my heart flutters.
We stroll outside, and the cool evening air is a relief from the stuffy gym.
We walk for a long time in comfortable silence. We’re just walking, but I swear it’s the most healing thing I’ve done in a long time.
Who knew that the missing thing in my life was taking long evening walks with Logan holding my hand?
I feel like all of life’s problems can be solved now.
