“Thanks for tonight, Logan,” Sandy said, her voice low and soft.
He smiled, the same rehearsed and hollow grin that was nothing but a mask.
The evening had gone well. He had taken her to the most upscale restaurant he could find, knowing she relished places like that. She looked stunning in a beautiful dress and heels, her hair cascading in soft waves; he could tell she had spent the day at the salon for that night.
Being with Sandy was easy. She filled the air with stories of everything she had done while he was away, bubbling on about a job she had landed with a fashion company whose name slipped from his mind. He nodded and feigned interest, responding with the occasional “Really?” or “That’s great!” But deep down, he was dying slowly, counting the words he had spoken on one hand.
Logan knew the next move. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, the kiss mechanical, a habit formed through years of routine. The kiss tasted like a greeting meant for someone else, addressed to Logan by mistake, warm in tone but foreign in intent.
As he pulled away, he was struck by the dreamy look in her eyes, while his chest throbbed with the truth he couldn’t bear to voice.
“Maybe we can do this again sometime?” he suggested, his voice hoarse.
“I’d love to,” she replied, a coy smile creeping onto her lips. She bit them and glanced at him with a flirtation he could not ignore. “Do you… want to come in?”
Logan swallowed hard, acutely aware of the invitation layered in her words. No, he didn’t want to go in; he wanted to run, not from her, but from the life he had returned to. His heart ached for the world he had left behind, the one filled with sunlit beaches and an exhilarating freedom that now felt like a distant dream.
“No,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tonight was just for catching up.”
Sandy nodded, a blush creeping into her cheeks, and for a moment, he thought he had said the right thing.
“I’ll call you,” he promised as she stepped out of the car. He drove away, the weight of his decision pressing down on him, like water filling a sinking ship.
Five days home, and each had dragged him further beneath the surface, until he moved through the hours as though underwater, unable to break back into the air.
Pulling over to the side of the road, he reached for his phone, fighting against the urge that had haunted him since his return. He opened the Facebook app, scanning through posts that felt irrelevant, only searching for one name.
Typing it out, he hesitated, anger rising as he deleted the letters again and again. The frustration boiled over; he slammed his fist against the steering wheel, letting out a roar that echoed in the stillness of the car.
“Damn it!” he yelled, despair flooding his heart.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the memories wash over him. When he opened them again, he faced the man everyone expected him to be, but he knew it was a lie. He could never be the same.
He tossed the phone aside and shifted the car into gear, driving away from the memories that haunted him. The city blurred around him, lights and cars and people going about, unaware of the misery he felt.
As he pulled into his parents’ driveway, Logan inhaled deeply, steeling himself for what lay ahead. The front door creaked open, and he was enveloped by the comforting aroma of baked goods wafting through the air. His mother’s warm smile greeted him, a beacon of familiarity in the chaos of his thoughts.
Yet, despite the warmth of the moment, a sense of unease lingered in his chest. His current mood felt anything but hospitable. The relentless buzz of their concern gnawed at him, amplifying his need for space. He reminded himself that finding an apartment should be his priority now; solitude was a luxury he craved, far removed from the prying eyes of those who only wanted to help.
“Well?” she prompted; her eyes bright with anticipation, before backing away to the large kitchen.
“I think it went well,” Logan replied, closing the door behind him as he approached her in the kitchen.
“That’s good to hear. I like Sandy,” she said, and he hugged her, planting a kiss on her cheek.
“Logan, is everything alright?” she asked, setting down a bowl of fruit she had been preparing for a cake.
“Yeah, why?”
“You seem a bit off… probably just jet lag,” she reassured him or herself, brushing her hand gently across his cheek. “I like your haircut, it suits you.”
“Yeah?”
“My boy, you’re handsome no matter what,” she said, returning to her task. “By the way, you have a surprise in your room.”
“What?” His heart leaped.
“I’m not allowed to say—”
