Chapter 20: Chapter Twenty

RAE

Although I’m cursed with zero social skills, I’ve always had a decent sense of fashion. I don’t read ~Vogue~ or keep up with trends or anything, but I do a good job of dressing myself. I know what flatters my shape and skin tone.

Today, I go with booties, dark skinny jeans with small (intentional) rips in one thigh, a flowy baby-blue tank, and a charcoal cardigan.

Also, three necklaces. Two long, one short. All sterling silver.

I love necklaces. I’d wear fifty at a time if it were socially acceptable. Before I discovered the wonders of jewelry in middle school, I played with my hair whenever I got nervous, which was all the time.

By the time the final bell rang, my hair was greasy and nasty. I entered school looking fresh and clean, and left looking like I hadn’t showered in weeks.

Mom finally bought me a couple of necklaces to fidget with, and I haven’t gone a day sans at least one necklace since.

My parents are the nice, supportive type. Of course, they have their flaws; they’re pretty old-fashioned and could use a lesson or six on feminism, but they’re good people.

You’d think I was from a broken home what with all my mental illness, but that’s not the case. I can’t blame my upbringing. I can’t even blame genetics.

My parents are perfectly normal. Same with Miles. I just came out of the womb with fucked-up brain chemistry that I haven’t recovered from.

It’s strange how that works. Logan hasn’t told me much about his family, but I know he’s had it tough.

He definitely has to deal with the repercussions of what he’s been through, but he isn’t clinically depressed. He doesn’t have an anxiety disorder.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m glad he doesn’t have to suffer from mental illness. I wouldn’t wish depression or anxiety on my worst enemy. It’s just…weird how the universe chooses to dole out its curses and blessings.

“You’re going to get sweaty if you keep pacing,” Zoe warns me.

She’s right, but I can’t stop. I’m too nervous. Does Logan actually want to go on a date, or is it just a premise to get a distraction fuck out of me? Does he just want someone to talk to?

“What are you nervous about? He asked you out, Rae-bae.”

“I’m always nervous,” I remind her.

Zoe rolls her eyes. “You’re extra nervous.”

As usual, my best friend is correct. “I’m worried he only wants to hang out because he feels comfortable around me since I’m a depressed, awkward mess.”

“Repeat after me. I am a happy and confident hot mess.”

“Nope. Not going to lie.”

Zoe lunges off the couch and wraps her arms around my legs. “No pacing until you speak the truth.”

“I’m speaking the truth,” I groan.

“Fake news. I’ll stay here all night.”

I sigh. “Fine. I am not a happy and confident hot mess.”

She releases my legs and sniffs. “You need to deodorize before he gets here.”

~Knock. Knock. Knock~.

“Don’t worry. I’ll distract. Go freshen up.” She winks and less-than-gently shoves me into my room.

I’ve never applied deodorant so quickly. Leaving Zoe alone with a date is never a good idea. Even though she promised to lay off the protectiveness, she’ll never miss an opportunity to interrogate someone.

Based on the way Logan’s eyebrows are raised when I emerge from my room, she didn’t neglect this one.

“See you, Zoe,” I say loudly.

She rolls her eyes at me. “Have fun.”

“What did she—” I start once I close the door behind us, but Logan doesn’t give me a chance to ask about Zoe’s scare tactics. His lips crash into mine.

I wrap my arms around his neck as he presses me against the wall, gripping my waist with such intensity I think he might tear my jeans from my body right here in the hallway.

I’m so wrapped up in the moment I kind of wish he would.

“I missed you,” he murmurs after he finally pulls away.

“I—”

Zoe sticks her head out the door. “You guys are not subtle. Please go before you traumatize the neighbors.” When Logan turns around, chuckling, she shoots me a wink.

“Bye, Zoe,” Logan laughs at the same time I grumble, “Alright, alright.”

***

Logan buys the tickets and a Diet Coke for me. I’m not really a soda person, but I need a steady stream of caffeine if I can even hope to keep my shit together on this multi-hour date.

The movie is at one of the fancy theaters with cozy, reclining seats. He chose two in the back.

I feel like a giddy high school kid, leaning up against him, armrest digging into my ribs (a sacrifice I’m willing to make), while he wraps his arm around my shoulders.

Some action-comedy flick is playing, but I barely pay attention. Logan’s fingers trace circles on my arm, and all I can think about is his touch.

This touch and the touches from that night in his office and the ones from the hallway earlier…

“Hey, Rae,” Logan whispers.

I lift my head off his shoulder to respond with an eloquent, “Hey.”

“What’s the main character’s name?”

Not the question I was expecting. Also not a question I know the answer to. “Uh,” I start.

Logan emits a tiny snort. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t know either.”

He kisses me so fiercely I nearly gasp. It takes a few seconds for me to realize what’s happening and a few more for me to remember how to, you know, kiss him back.

Once I get my shit together, I’m about ready to jump him. Right here, right now, in this fancy theater. This god of a man is pulling me close to his perfect body, making every nerve in mine fire off.

I’m in overdrive. I need him. Need, need, need, need him.

Then, he pulls away. My frown doesn’t go unnoticed. “Are you pouting, Rae?” he laughs softly.

I flush. “Maybe.”

“Want to get out of here?”

“Yes,” I answer far too forcefully.

Logan leads the way out, never letting go of my hand until we reach his car, which we proceed to make out against. Fuck the restaurant. I want to go back to whoever’s apartment is closer and…

“Ready for dinner?”

I pout again.

“Why, have something else in mind?” Logan whispers into my ear.

“Yes,” I breathe.

“So do I.” I lean into him as he continues, “Spaghetti.”