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“No, no, no. What if a burglar breaks in and you’re alone?” I wave my finger at her.
“What if a burglar comes and no one is here? They’ll steal all our stuff!” She waves her hands wildly in self-defense.
“Then we would have a dead you,andall our stuff stolen!” I place my hand on her shoulders and start to push her towards the door. “Now go. If I come back early, I’ll drop by and pick you up.”
I hear Sophia sigh, bored and impatient, but at least I don’t have to open the door and shove her through. She finally starts heading out on her own, groaning the entire time.
“Good luck with the date,” she says with a small smile. “I hope you marry him.”
I laugh and hug her. Sophia then walks slowly towards the end of the hallway, moving towards Mrs. Sanderson’s apartment.
Now I’m alone in the house, left to wonder if Mr. Bardin — no, Logan — is really coming or not.
I lean over to look out of the living room window, which faces the street and gives me a good view of both accesses to our building. I then look over my shoulder to face the clock on the wall. It's still half an hour until 7 PM, so I’ll have to be patient and wait for a little while.
Seven comes, and every minute past it is torture. My fingernails are in my mouth, ready to be torn off, when finally, at 7:15, a luxurious black sedan turns the corner and honks.
I wave from the window and yell, “I’m coming down!” Then I close the door and rush downstairs, feeling a little more flustered than I’d like.
Before I open the front door, I try to compose myself. I reach for the doorknob, walking into the unknown with deep breaths instead of courage.
I place my hand on the car door handle and feel a jolt of tingles and goosebumps when I peer through the window and see those blue eyes.
Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s adrenaline, but the only certainty is that it is Logan’s face behind the mirrored glass of the window.
“You’re late!” I complain jokingly, taking my seat in the passenger’s side.
“I’m not sorry. You’re the one responsible for it,” he says, serious as always.
“Me?!” I ask, flabbergasted as I strap on my seatbelt. “What did I do wrong now?”
He starts the engine, and clearly forcing himself to look straight ahead, he says, “You made me nervous enough to make me late.”
“Andhowexactly did I make you nervous?” I ask, enjoying the redness of his face.
Logan looks at me out of the corner of his eye as he pulls away from the curb and starts to drive off.
“You exist,” he says, serious as a heart attack. “Ever since I learned you exist, you’ve been making me nervous.”
I lean back in the comfortable leather seat and smile as I test the waters. “And is that a good or a bad thing?”
A charming sideways smirk appears on his lips. “I’m trying to make it a good thing now.”
Now I’m the one blushing, and I avert my gaze before changing the subject. “Where are we going?”
“A nice restaurant. Then a show,” he says, his voice low and husky.
“Sounds amazing.” I smile and let it be for now.
An awkward silence grows, and he decides to turn on the radio, browsing through the stations one by one when he reaches a song that makes me jump in my seat.
“Oh! Stop right there!” I say, excited.
“I take it you like this song?” He smiles as he turns the volume up.
I start to sing, not even caring that my voice is cracking, and my eyes are closed, completely lost in the emotions of the song.
It’s calledThe Feel of You.It'sby a new pop singer, and Logan seems interested in the lyrics.
