Two Roads (9 page)

There’s a pause as we both stare at each other, pressed against the wall of his empty room, breathing slowly and heavily, and I try not to notice my closeness to Logan but I notice it all the same. It’s weird, how we’re this close and it still feels totally natural, but I guess that’s what happens when you spend your time stalking and insulting a guy just to make him miserable.

My breathing comes in slow gulps, and as I watch him in all of his anger and narrowed-eye splendor, his does too. I feel suddenly on fire being this close to him, and I calculate that the only way to get out of here with my life is either to punch him in the face or knock out his legs, both of which I wouldn’t mind doing. I choose neither, though, because I kind of like having him near me. And so I keep standing there, breathing heavily, letting the heat from his body and his rage surround me. Our rivalry is beautiful because it makes us both forget about everything else. It is a constant challenge, an unending competition, and it fuels both of our lives. As much as I hate to admit it, my life would be 100% empty without Logan. We have this strange way of making each other happy by making each other miserable. We’re basically enemies with benefits, but our benefits are the distractions we give each other, the distractions from what happened to Ben.

We don’t, of course, tell each other any of this, but it’s an unspoken truth between Logan and me--that our mutual hatred is our saving grace from all of our problems. Our rivalry is everything a hot half-year-long fling is and more, just without the sex. Because sex with Logan? I would rather die.

So here we are. Standing in front of each other. Our eyes locked. I just ruined one of Logan’s most cherished possessions… and he looks angry. Like, genuinely angry. Like, not forgiving kind of angry.

I realize then that his glare has only sharpened, that the fury in his eyes is burning just as much as before. He isn’t giving in. My heart stops.
He isn’t giving in
. Logan continues to stand there, breathing in deep, pained breaths, looking like he’s going to lash out at me any second now. He hasn’t let it go, like he usually does. In fact, he looks anything but like he usually does.

He looks pissed. Purely, genuinely pissed.

And that’s when I realize that I broke him.

That I won.

My muscles freeze up as I look at him, and the knot in my chest just tightens.

I won.

He’s looking at me with such ferocity right now because I went to the one place that’s going too far: the place involving Ben.

But I won.
I finally won!

I should be celebrating. I should be jumping up and down and rubbing it in his face. I should be doing anything but this: looking into his eyes and feeling my heart get ripped apart with his.

“Logan, I--” I start to say, my voice trembling, not coming up with the right words to say.

He just shakes his head. “Leave,” he whispers in a low voice.

I bite my lip. This is not happening. This. is. not. happening. “Please, Logan--”

But he just points me to the door, having none of it, the anger burning in his every word. “Goodnight, Cali,” he whispers, so brokenly, and then he leads me outside before I can protest.

I turn around and try to say something, to stop him, to fix this mess, but the door is already clicking shut, and I’m enveloped in the thickest silence in history.

As soon as I’m out of his apartment, away from the burning heat of his body, I am utterly speechless. I really should feel less crushed than I do, less hurt, less empty.

I mean, I did it. I won. I finally won.

So why do I feel like I just lost something?

~

Some days she feels like spilling all of her secrets,

telling the boy she loves to hate about her guilt

about how empty she feels

how she is hopeless

worthless

nothing.

But even then, she’s too scared

too scared of his judgment

too scared of everyone’s judgment.

She fears what she doesn’t know

and so she says nothing.

~

When
I get back to my room, Ruby isn’t there, but I don’t even have the energy to wait for her any longer. I crawl right into my bed, pull the covers over my eyes, and wait until sleep takes me away.

The next few days are absolutely horrible. I go to my classes, listen to the lectures even though I know I’m going to purposely flunk the exams later, and I don’t once talk to Logan. We pass each other in the stairs once but don’t say a word, don’t even make eye contact, and I know I really did ruin it this time. I would give anything to take back the prank, but I can’t. It’s done, I won, and now I feel worse than ever.

Ben would be so disappointed in me right now, and that’s the worst part of all.

I try to apologize to Logan four times over the course of the week, but every time I get the strength to knock on his door I can’t bring myself to say it. I have no idea why Logan’s anger matters so much to me--I mean, it’s always been my goal to upset him, right?--but that night… I know I went too far. And it hurt more than I thought it would, hurt not only him but
me
. That look in his eyes, that pure fury, it’s like he knew I knew this would hurt him--and I didn’t care. He looked genuinely broken over it, and that just makes me want to crumple up and cry.

I love our rivalry. I love making him hate me. After all those years he disappeared and ignored me, after his failure to help Ben when he needed it most, Logan deserves it, and hating that bastard and having him hate me back feels good, feels right. But there is a difference between play and flat-out too much, and like a fucking idiot, I screwed it up.

So the night before my blind date, when Ruby is out with Jaden getting drinks or something, I call Logan. He answers on the fifth ring.

“Hey Logan?” I say to the silence on the other end.

“Yeah?” His voice is tired, sad.

There’s a long pause before I finally muster the strength to continue. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my eyes glistening with tears, and it’s the truth.

~

I wake
up to Ruby’s snoring with a start the next morning and immediately check my watch. 11:45 a.m.
Shit
. I have my date in fifteen minutes.

Jumping to my feet, I throw on some clothes, shove my foot into a pair of brown country boots--it can’t really hurt to keep things interesting--and burst out the door without checking my hair or anything. I probably look like a complete mess in my old white t-shirt and black short shorts from last night, but it’s not like I care.

As soon as I get in my car, I notice Logan climbing into his coupe across from me, and I immediately tense up. A pang of regret from the other night surges back to me, and as I sit in my car, I feel my heart sink.

I really did it this time. I really ended our rivalry for good.

I tell myself I won’t engage him as I put my keys into the ignition, ducking my head down in hopes he doesn’t see me. But it doesn’t work because before I know it he rolls down his window.

“Going anywhere?” he says, and I feel relieved to hear that his voice is relatively normal. Something else is there, though, and I can feel it. Something so sad it makes me wince.

I don’t know why, but as much as I hate Logan, I hate hurting him--
really
hurting him--more. I don’t think about what that means.

“As a matter of fact, I have a date to go to on. You?” I say, expecting him to give me some long-winded response about such and such Pointless Lecture by such and such Boring As Hell Professor that he just
has
to attend, and then I’ll drive away while he’s in the middle of another one of his Logan Tangents.

“I have a date too,” he says instead, which, I admit, surprises me a little. He puts his hand on his steering wheel, and we start to back our cars out together, side by side. “Nervous about yours?” he asks.

“Nope.” The truth is, I am kind of nervous about this date, even if I’m already well aware it is going to be a bust, but there is no way I’m going to mention that to Logan.

“Good. If he’s going out with you, I already know he’s either going to suck or you have no chance with him, so you have nothing to be nervous about.” He winks at me to the seal the deal. I respond gracefully and give him the finger,
but I can’t help but feel thankful to see the usual rivalry in him return. I can tell he’s hurting, though. I know I am. Anything involving Ben hurts so freaking much. The other night I was too upset and furious thinking about the suicide and both Logan and my complete ignorance when it came to the signs, that I just… I just blew it. And now it stings. Bad. I’d give anything to take back that prank, or really to take back these last four years of my life. But I wouldn’t take back my rivalry with Logan, and that may be the strangest part of all.

“That’s cute,” I say, shooting him a mock sweet smile. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if your date is with your mom.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” We continue to slowly back out our cars.

“As a matter of fact, I would.” And it’s the truth--I just hope someone sends me pictures of Logan going on a date with mother. But let’s face it, it’s not like any other breathing mammal would sit with him on a date for more than forty-five minutes.

“You’re a real charmer,” Logan says. “Anyway”--he starts to reach for something in front of him--”it was good talking to you.” Then, he hits the gas, laughs, and he tries to zip past me.

A smile spreads across my lips because I, of course, won’t let him.

I turn on the ignition and gun at his car, which is probably not the best idea in the world but hey, the whole point of college is to get the bad ideas out of your system, right? So I speed my car right by his, purposely scraping against his rearview mirror, and he shoots me a killer look.

“Later, loser,” I call, not giving him time to respond, and I feel his car jostle mine as I push past it. He just laughs and drives out of the lot behind me, giving in to my mad skills. One point for Cali.

I watch Logan in my rearview mirror the whole three-minute ride there. I keep waiting for him to turn, to go to some weird nerdy restaurant and greet his even nerdier date, but he just keeps following me, turn after turn. Next I convince myself he’s stalking me, something that is really not beneath him, but I have no idea why anyone would willingly stalk me to this same god-awful sandwich shop.

He’s still there when I stop at the light across from the shop, still there when I slow in front of it, and as soon as I pull into the parking lot, I glance behind me to see him pulling in after me.

What the…

“Is your date seriously here?” I ask Logan dubiously, stepping out of the car and slamming the door behind me. Sunlight streams down from above and I have to cover my eyes with my hands to look at him. Between the smell of pizza emanating from the restaurant, the gentle hum of car engines in the street to my left, and the singing of some birds above us, it’s a pretty nice afternoon. The air is cool and fresh, and I should really be enjoying it more than I am. But with Logan here, it’s hard to enjoy anything.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Logan says, stepping out of his car. “But yes, it seriously is.”

I squint at him, waiting for him to pull some sort of prank on me, laugh about how this is all just a practical joke of his, but nothing comes. Huh. Maybe he isn’t lying this time. “That’s… strange,” I finally say.

“Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

He follows me up the stairs to the front door, and I hold the door for him as he enters. Air conditioning blasts us, causing a slight shiver to race down my spine. As soon as I step inside, I scan the shop. The only people here today are the elderly couple talking to each other in the corner of the room. I check the time--12:08. So I guess my date isn’t here. I glance up at Logan, who is also looking confused. And apparently, his isn’t either.

We stand there for a while, awkwardly waiting for our dates to show, and instead of picturing who mine is, I find myself trying to imagine the type of girl Logan dates. She probably has glasses, too many freckles, mousy brown hair and a horrible ponytail and she sniffles way more than her daily quota, I tell myself. I bet she’s a science wiz, or an English nerd, or some language geek who is fluent in five languages. She is, certainly, nothing like me.

I can’t even tell if that’s a good or bad thing.

After a few more minutes of tapping my foot and staring at the parking lot for a car that isn’t showing up, I glance at Logan. “So where is this hot date of yours?” I say, smirking at him.

“I could ask you the exact same question.”

“And I could punch you right now, but I’m not going to. Now answer
my
question.”

He shrugs. “I mean, the truth is, I don’t really know who she is.”

I stop, turn to him. “Huh?” I say and I frown, but something in my stomach twists. Something deep inside me starts freaking out. What if Logan is--

“My parents set me up on a blind date,” he says simply. My muscles stiffen up as soon as the words leave his mouth, and now it’s his turn to frown. “What? Where’s your date?”

I open and close my mouth, trying to process this, telling myself that it can’t possibly be what I think it is. My heart starts pounding, and I have to force myself to speak. “I don’t know,” I say after a while, watching him intently and feeling totally awkward and useless. “My parents set me up on a blind date.”

I feel Logan’s gaze on me, and now his body tightens up beside mine, too. “Oh,” is all he says, but I think he gets the hint.

Desperately, I look around the restaurant, my heart sinking with each passing second, but there is nobody.
Nobody
. The only people here are that elderly couple and a few waiters washing the dishes, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else is coming. I look back up at Logan, and my stomach constricts.

Oh no.

Oh shit.

It
is
what I thought.

My parents really did this.

My. freaking. idiot. parents.

Only they could set me up on a date with the one guy they know I hate more than anything in the world.

Logan towers over me, six feet to my five and three inches. We stare at each other for a long time, his annoyingly perfect blue eyes on mine, his lashes moving slowly up and down. I open my mouth and try to say something, but I just don’t know what to do.

Finally, after the painfully awkward silence has dragged on long enough, something totally unexpected happens: Logan bursts out laughing. Like, a full-on, deep, masculine laugh. He doubles over and lets more laughter escape him, his face all red and amused and genuinely happy. I stand over him, at first looking at him with horror, but eventually a smile cracks across my lips and the next thing I know, I join him in laughing.

All of it bubbles from deep inside me, and we just laugh and laugh until everyone in the restaurant starts staring at us--two college student enemies, broken after Ben’s suicide, whose idiot parents set them up on a blind date together. I laugh away all of the other night, all of the pain my parents have caused, and everything that happened with Ben. I laugh until it hurts to laugh, until my stomach cramps up and I have to struggle to breathe.

“Our parents seriously set us up on a date,” Logan says, his face all red, as he gasps in a deep breath.

“I know. Holy shit. I mean, I knew my parents were idiots and had no taste, but they picked a date as awful as
you
? That’s a new low even for them!” I say, laughing, even though I don’t really find it funny.

“Yeah,” Logan says, “I would rather die than go on a date with you.”

“That option is always on the table, you know.” I wink at him. He just sighs at me like I’m boring him, and I have to contain my smile.

After a minute, a waiter comes up to us, probably wondering why we’re just randomly standing there, and asks, “may I get you two a seat?”

Now my smile really grows.
If only he knew…

I open my mouth to say hell no, to tell him we are the farthest thing from “together” and laugh like a complete bitch, but then my stomach--my freaking goddamn idiot of a stomach--growls. Loudly.

I swear my hunger comes at the worst possible time.

Logan bites his lip to keep from laughing at me, and I elbow him in the stomach.
I’ll get back at him later
, I promise myself. But right now, I’m starving, and as bad as these sandwiches may be, I need to eat something.

“I guess I’ll take my own table,” I say to the waiter, and he nods, grabs a menu, and leads me over to the nearest table. I find myself thinking that, between his overly round head and elongated front teeth, his face looks kind of like a beaver’s.

Then I turn back to Logan, who is still standing by the door. I sigh, feeling guilty about last night all over again. I know I should do something, say something, but I don’t know how. So I say instead, as a temporary truce, “You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like to be insulted.” I don’t sound especially enthusiastic, but it’s not like he is going to say yes, anyway.

Logan raises an eyebrow, and a small smile creeps across his lips. “If I didn’t know you better, Cali Monroe, I’d think you’re asking me on a date.”

“Then it’s a good thing you know me better,” I mutter. “So what will it be?”

Logan still doesn’t take his gaze off of me. “This is a serious offer?”

“Yes…” I start to sit down, knowing he’s going to laugh and say no thanks and leave--as I hope he will--because Logan can’t stand me almost as much as I can’t stand him. Plus, this whole being nice thing and “inviting” him to join me is just too strange. I’m about to sit down and order a huge lunch to shut up my stomach when two words knock me off guard:

“Then sure,” Logan says.

I spin around almost immediately. “Sure what?” I snap, but my heart continues to sink because I already know what he’s going to say.

Logan rolls his eyes. “
Sure
, I’ll have lunch with you.”

And now my jaw drops open. I keep my hand on my chair, my eyes on his, and I don’t even know what to say. Why would he want to--

“I’m hungry,” he adds, as if he’s reading my thoughts. “And these sandwiches look badass. So that’s why I’m joining you.”

I’m still not convinced. “Okay,” I finally manage, taking a breath and silently cursing moral codes for not letting me take back my offer. But really, this is so weird. This is so, so weird. I should make Logan sit elsewhere or flat-out leave or doing anything to stop this from happening, but I can’t bring myself to right now. I mean, I hate Logan with all of my heart and there is no way in hell I
want
to have lunch with him, but I’m starving and we’re already here and I feel too guilty about what I did to take back the offer, so it’s not like I have a choice.