Even if he won’t show me.
Logan never wore his emotions on his sleeve. Even when we were thick as thieves, I never once saw him cry, apart from when his dog died. Not even as eight-year-olds. Not even that time a bully had shoved him so hard against the swing poles that he wore dark bruises for weeks. While I was a constant emotional mess who couldn’t hold anything back, he processed what he went through in silence. And if he cried, he sure as hell didn’t show anyone. Even me, despite how close we had been. It’s like he never wanted to be a burden on me or his mom.
We were basically all he had.
But he still had little tells that something was off, even though he would rarely admit it. The way his head slouched down just a bit. The slight shift in his eyebrows. And that quality in his eyes that’s so difficult to describe … the kind of thing you only notice when you’ve known someone so deeply that you feel like you can see right down to their soul.
I’m snapped out of my thoughts when he sits down on the bench next to me. He’s close enough that I feel the warmth emanating from his skin. I resist the urge to close the few inches of space that are left between us.
“You know,” I start, planting my hands firmly on my thighs so they don’t wander somewhere they shouldn’t go, “if you were looking to switch things up, I don’t know if you’re still into video games, but …”
He raises one eyebrow. “But what?”
“Why not do that? Go into game development, I mean.” To me, it makes much more sense to try something that could reignite this passion. That would certainly switch things up. “You’d be programming and working on games. I can’t see how that could go wrong.”
Logan sighs. He’s still staring out at the ocean, looking pensive. “It’s not that simple, Avery.”
“How so?”
“Game dev is a beast on its own, and the industry is …” His voice trails off. “Anyway.” He gives me a smile before turning back to the ocean. “I’m happy to be here right now.”
He doesn’t say the words, but by the way he looks at me, I can feel them hanging in the air between us:
With you.
I hold my breath. Before I can resist the urge to say it, because it’s none of my business, I ask: “So then, did you come here alone, or are you doing a long-distance thing, or …”
Smooth, Avery. Real smooth.
He looks at me, frowning with one raised eyebrow. “Huh?”
“I mean …” I twist my fingers together. I got myself into this. I can’t blame him for making me say it out loud. “I already told you I just got dumped. So I was wondering if you’ve been any luckier with these things.”
“Oh.” He starts chewing the inside of his cheek. “I wouldn’t really say lucky, no.”
“No?” I’m feeling a bit conflicted. This should make me upset for him. It only makes sense that I would want him to be lucky in that department. Luckier than me, at least. So why am I feeling relieved?
He looks away. “Work keeps me busy a ton. And, I mean, I’ve had a few … flings, here and there. But nothing serious, ever.”
Ever?
“Is that something you’re looking for?” I feel the urge to wrap my arms around him to give him some comfort. But I stay seated exactly where I am.
“Yes and no.” He steals one glance at me before looking away again. “I’d be willing to fight for it with the right person. But up until now, that hasn’t happened.” My heart flutters at those words. “I’m okay with that, though.”
A weight lifts from my chest. Knowing that he’s okay with that, and that he hasn’t been heartbroken like I am … it’s a relief.
“What?” He’s looking at me with a puzzled expression. I must have sighed more loudly than I intended.
I don’t see any use in lying my way out of this one. “I guess I’m just happy to know there isn’t a woman out there who tore your heart out and set it on fire before running away.” Then I look up at the sky to watch the stars so I can avoid his gaze.
“Is that what happened to you?”
I think of Jasper. The memory of his stupid face still burns like a knife in my heart. Five years. I woke up next to this man for half a decade, thinking that would be the rest of my life. Every groove I had with him in my life slowly deepened over time, and now I have no idea how to break out of them. I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to that stupid apartment.
“You could say that.”
I wait for him to ask a follow-up question, but he doesn’t. He simply looks at me, without any pressure in his eyes. He’s offering to listen.
