“You’re an incredible writer, you know.”
“You think so?” I smile at him. “Should I read you another one?”
He hesitates. And I know why.
Because parts of that entry felt like…foreplay.
And somehow, this moment feels different than our other times together. Maybe because in a short while, Logan will be married and all these nights will be in the past.
The ache in my chest grows bigger, but Logan breaks the silence.
“Sure. Read another one.”
“Okay.”
I’m still sixteen, but this year has been a lot of firsts, so I decided to write again even though it’s only May.
Mr. Torsen complimented me on my short story I wrote for English class. He said it showed character and a unique voice, and he specifically said that I’m not afraid to let go with my writing and he hopes to read more from me in the future. I think he’s bluffing for sure, but even bluffs feel good sometimes.
I went over to Logan’s to tell him the good news. He was painting, and I sat and waited for him to finish, and then he grabbed my hand and asked me to walk with him in the wildflower patch behind the ranch.
Oh no. I stop reading and bite my cheek. I never should have started this entry. It’s far too?—
“Intimate?” Logan’s voice cuts through my harried thoughts.
I make eye contact with him, and he smiles fondly. “I remember this day.”
“But I’ve barely started to read it. How could you?—”
“I remember every moment with you.”
Shit.
He taps my leg. “Read it. And don’t censor yourself.”
I can’t imagine getting the words out of my throat. I’m so turned on already and I don’t like to talk when I’m like this. I like to do other things, things that involve more touching and less speaking.
I manage a nod and return to the page.
It was a hot day out even though it was only the end of April, and I was wearing a new halter top and jean shorts. Logan asked me where I got the top, and I told him Wal-Mart on sale, and he said it looked a lot sexier than Wal-Mart. I turned away so he wouldn’t see me smile—I didn’t want him to think I was high on myself or something.
We sat down under a shade tree to rest, and Logan asked if I was still seeing Tucker Strom, the senior. I told him no, that Tucker had behaved in a very ungentlemanly manner last week, and so I dumped him. Logan nodded and looked away, and I asked him if he was dating Melinda. The slutty sophomore who’s had her eye on Logan since she was thirteen and he was fifteen.
“Nope,” he said. “I got over that real quick.”
“Oh.” I peeled off the label on my water bottle, trying to distract myself from my attraction to him.
It had been nearly a year since we’d last made out, and I hadn’t thought we would again, necessarily. But then again, I always hoped we would.
Logan leaned in and kissed me but pulled back right away. “I don’t want to assume anything. If you don’t want to…”
I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him then—with tongue. And we lay down on the grass, right in between all the wildflowers that had all grown up so nice this spring, and we grew a little ourselves. At least third base’s worth. And I couldn’t believe I’d dated Tucker all those weeks and never once felt this good. Not that I let him touch me this way. I’d never gone this far before, but Logan is different. He makes me feel safe. And aroused.
I stop again, my face so hot I can’t believe the sun’s not shining on it. I close my eyes and take a long, slow breath. Logan’s hands on my waist and between my thighs—the memory is hitting me so hard I have to keep my legs tightly closed so they won’t tremble. Parts of me that always only turn on for Logan are screaming to be satisfied.
He’s watching me.
“Logan, this is awkward…”
