remembered everything. He stood there, and listened silently, hands still in pockets. He stared, right into my eyes, and he waited.
"Pathetic me , waiting for you , and I get nothing . For weeks, I sat around feeling sorry for myself. Because I fucking let you get to me. Until finally, Alexis convinces me that I need to get out. That I need to move on. So I do. I go to a stupid club, and who just happens to be there? You! You and some girl on your lap. And you couldn't keep your fucking hands off each other! And I hated it." My voice broke. "I hated that I had to see it. And I hated you!"
The anger consumed me. I started pushing him. He took every shove, not making a move to stop me. He stayed silent, while I got out over a years worth of anger, frustration and heartbreak.
"I hated you so much that I left that stupid club and the stupid memory of you with it. I moved on and screwed some guy I didn't even care about!" Push. "And just like you, he treated me like shit!" Push. "And I didn't even fucking care anymore because it was you I hated. I still hate you." Push. "And now I'm here, and I have to deal with it. I have to deal with you, and that one stupid night we had." Push. Shove. Push.
"It wasn't stupid Amanda," he finally spoke, pinning my arms to my sides and holding me to him.
"What!"
"That night, with you. It wasn't stupid," he said flatly.
I pulled myself off him, "Fuck you, Logan."
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice quiet.
And I make the stupid mistake of looking at him.
And I see it, the sadness consumed there.
But I don't care.
Because I hate him.
A bunch of guys came streaming out the front door. Some of them patting Logan on the back, or giving him some choice words. We never once took our eyes off each other.
I hate him.
"Amanda?" a deep voice interrupted. We both turned to see Shane, one of my brother's friends. "It is you."
He scratched his head.
"Hey, Shane. How are you?" I tried to act polite; hoping the anger inside me wasn't evident in my tone.
"Good. Are you okay?" He looked from me, to Logan, and back again. Logan's stared at the ground, like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
I nodded.
"You uh, you need a ride home?
"Yes!" I shouted, before calming myself down. "Please. Thank you."
He waited for me to walk ahead of him, putting his hand on my back, as he led me to his car.
I don't turn around.
I don't look back.
Because I don't hate him.
Logan
For over a year I tried to forget that night with her existed. I tried to not think about what she must have been thinking, or how she must have felt. Eventually I convinced myself that she didn't care. That I was just another boy, another date, another night.
But then she stood in front of me and told me all this shit, and it took everything in me to not hold her. To not tell her the truth. To not tell her how sorry I am and beg for her to fucking forgive me.
So I stood there, and let her take out a years worth of anger and pain and I did nothing to make it better.
Because I can't.
How the fuck can I make things right, when it's too damn late for all of it.
And then she left, with some guy she apparently knows and I did nothing to stop her. Because she's not mine and I have no right.
I fucked up.
I fucked up bad.
And I want her.
I want her so fucking bad.
TWELVE
-Past-
The scare
I woke up mid morning the next day seedy and tired as fuck. I smiled to myself. So worth it.
Dad was in the kitchen reading the paper when I walked in. He lifted his head when he heard me come in. "Late night?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face.
"Yeah, you could say that." I opened the fridge, and then closed it again. Stupid habit.
"Has she left?"
"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "I took her home last night, or this morning actually."
He nodded once, not taking his eyes off me. "Do we need to talk about protection?"
"No!" I said quickly. Then calmed myself down. "No. I'm good with that — trust me. But that's not —
"Pathetic me , waiting for you , and I get nothing . For weeks, I sat around feeling sorry for myself. Because I fucking let you get to me. Until finally, Alexis convinces me that I need to get out. That I need to move on. So I do. I go to a stupid club, and who just happens to be there? You! You and some girl on your lap. And you couldn't keep your fucking hands off each other! And I hated it." My voice broke. "I hated that I had to see it. And I hated you!"
The anger consumed me. I started pushing him. He took every shove, not making a move to stop me. He stayed silent, while I got out over a years worth of anger, frustration and heartbreak.
"I hated you so much that I left that stupid club and the stupid memory of you with it. I moved on and screwed some guy I didn't even care about!" Push. "And just like you, he treated me like shit!" Push. "And I didn't even fucking care anymore because it was you I hated. I still hate you." Push. "And now I'm here, and I have to deal with it. I have to deal with you, and that one stupid night we had." Push. Shove. Push.
"It wasn't stupid Amanda," he finally spoke, pinning my arms to my sides and holding me to him.
"What!"
"That night, with you. It wasn't stupid," he said flatly.
I pulled myself off him, "Fuck you, Logan."
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice quiet.
And I make the stupid mistake of looking at him.
And I see it, the sadness consumed there.
But I don't care.
Because I hate him.
A bunch of guys came streaming out the front door. Some of them patting Logan on the back, or giving him some choice words. We never once took our eyes off each other.
I hate him.
"Amanda?" a deep voice interrupted. We both turned to see Shane, one of my brother's friends. "It is you."
He scratched his head.
"Hey, Shane. How are you?" I tried to act polite; hoping the anger inside me wasn't evident in my tone.
"Good. Are you okay?" He looked from me, to Logan, and back again. Logan's stared at the ground, like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
I nodded.
"You uh, you need a ride home?
"Yes!" I shouted, before calming myself down. "Please. Thank you."
He waited for me to walk ahead of him, putting his hand on my back, as he led me to his car.
I don't turn around.
I don't look back.
Because I don't hate him.
Logan
For over a year I tried to forget that night with her existed. I tried to not think about what she must have been thinking, or how she must have felt. Eventually I convinced myself that she didn't care. That I was just another boy, another date, another night.
But then she stood in front of me and told me all this shit, and it took everything in me to not hold her. To not tell her the truth. To not tell her how sorry I am and beg for her to fucking forgive me.
So I stood there, and let her take out a years worth of anger and pain and I did nothing to make it better.
Because I can't.
How the fuck can I make things right, when it's too damn late for all of it.
And then she left, with some guy she apparently knows and I did nothing to stop her. Because she's not mine and I have no right.
I fucked up.
I fucked up bad.
And I want her.
I want her so fucking bad.
TWELVE
-Past-
The scare
I woke up mid morning the next day seedy and tired as fuck. I smiled to myself. So worth it.
Dad was in the kitchen reading the paper when I walked in. He lifted his head when he heard me come in. "Late night?" he asked, a knowing smirk on his face.
"Yeah, you could say that." I opened the fridge, and then closed it again. Stupid habit.
"Has she left?"
"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "I took her home last night, or this morning actually."
He nodded once, not taking his eyes off me. "Do we need to talk about protection?"
"No!" I said quickly. Then calmed myself down. "No. I'm good with that — trust me. But that's not —
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