“I…” I huffed. I wasn’t an athlete at all, that was more of my brother’s field of expertise. I tried to catch my breath, holding my hands against the edge of her window. “I—I…ne-need…”
“You need what? What, baby? What do you need?” she asked, running her hand gently against my cheek.
“Pie.”
She sat back, confused. “What?”
“Pie. My pie supplies that we bought earlier. They’re in the back of your car.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?!” she screeched. “You chased me down for blocks and blocks for pie ingredients?!”
I arched an eyebrow. “Um, yeah?”
She reached into the back of her car, snatched the bag up, and slammed it against my chest. “You are so unbelievable! Here’s your stupid crap!”
I smirked. “Thanks.”
Her car pulled off and I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard her shout, “You owe me twenty bucks for that goat cheese!”
The second I stepped foot into my apartment, I pulled out my cell phone and sent a text.
Me: Next time I break up with a girl, I’m doing it via text message.
Alyssa: That bad?
Me: Dreadful.
Alyssa: I feel bad for her. She really liked you.
Me: She cheated on me!
Alyssa: And yet you still found a way to sleep with her three times.
Me: Whose side are you on?
Ellipses.
Alyssa: She’s such a monster!
I’m so happy she’s out of your life.
No one deserves to date such a psychotic person.
She’s disgusting.
I hope she accidentally steps on Lego pieces
for the remainder of her life.
There was the response I needed.
Alyssa: Love you, best friend.
I read her words, and tried to ignore the pull in my chest. Love you. I never said those kinds of things to people, not even to Ma or Kellan. But sometimes, when Alyssa Marie Walters said she loved me, I kind of wished I could say it back.
But I didn’t love.
I hardly liked.
At least that was the lie I told myself daily to keep from getting hurt. Most people thought love was a reward, but I knew better than that. I’d seen my mom love my father for years now, and nothing good ever came from it. Love wasn’t a blessing, it was a curse, and once you invited it into your heart, it only left scorch marks.
2
Alyssa
Me: Hey, Dad. Just checking in to see about you coming to the piano recital.
Me: Hey! Did you see my last text?
Me: Hey, me again. Just texting to see if you’re okay. Erika and I are worried.
Me: Dad?
Me: ??
Me: Are you still awake, Lo?
I stared at my cell phone, my heart pounding in my chest as I sent the text message to Logan. I checked the time, sighing heavily.
2:33 a.m.
I should’ve been sleeping, but I was thinking about Dad again. I’d sent him a total of fifteen text messages in the past two days, and ten voicemails, yet I still hadn’t heard back from him.
I lay my phone against my chest, taking deep inhales and exhales. When it started vibrating, I was quick to answer. “You should be sleeping,” I whispered through the phone receiver, secretly happy that he answered. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked, ignoring my question.
A light giggle escaped my lips. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“Alyssa,” he said, stern.
“Ass-Crack didn’t call me back. I called him twenty times this week, and he didn’t call me back.” Ass-Crack was the name we’d graced my dad with after he walked out on our family. He and I had been extremely close, the two musicians of the family, and when he left, a part of me floated away with him. I didn’t talk about him a lot, but even though I never said the words, Logan always knew that it bothered me.
“Forget about him. He’s a piece of trash.”
“I have the biggest summer piano recital of my career coming up, and I don’t know if I can do it without him there.” I tried my best to keep my emotions in check. I tried my best not to cry, but I was losing the fight that night. I worried about him more than Mom and Erika did. Maybe because they never really understood who he was, as an artist, as a performer. The two of them had very reality-based minds that came with a lot of stability—Dad and I were kind of floating spirits, dancing in the wildfires.
But lately he hadn’t called. And I was so, so worried.
“Alyssa,” Logan started.
“Lo,” I whispered, a light tremble in my voice. He heard the sniffles through the receiver, and I sat up more. “When I was little, thunderstorms used to freak me out really bad. And I’d run into my parents’ bedroom and beg them to let me sleep with them. Mom never let me because she said I had to learn that storms wouldn’t hurt me. Ass-Crack would always agree with her, too. So I’d go back to my bedroom, huddle under my blankets, listen to the thunder and try my hardest not to see the lightning. Within a minute, my bedroom door would open, he’d have his keyboard in his hands, and he’d play music beside my bed until I fell asleep. Most days, I’m strong. I’m okay. But tonight with the storm, and all of the ignored calls… He’s breaking me tonight.”
“Don’t let him, Alyssa. Don’t let him win.”
“I just…” I began to cry over the line and I started to break down. “I’m just having a sad moment, that’s all.”
“I’m coming over.”
“What? No. It’s late.”
“I’m coming.”
“The buses stopped running at two, Logan. Plus, my mom closed the gate to the property and locked up. You couldn’t get in anyway. It’s fine.” Mom was a hot shot lawyer and had money—a lot of money. We lived at the top of the hill, with a huge gate around our property. It was pretty impossible to get into after Mom locked up at night. “I’m fine,” I promised. “I just needed to hear your voice, and for you to remind me that I’m better off without him.”
“Because you are,” he explained.
“Yeah.”
“No, Alyssa. Really. You are better than Ass-Crack.”
My sobbing grew heavier, and I had to cover my mouth with one hand just so he wouldn’t hear how hard I was crying. My body shook in bed, and I fell apart, tears falling against my pillowcase, my thoughts making me even more anxious.
What if something happened to him? What if he was drinking again? What if…
“I’m coming over.”
“No.”
“Alyssa. Please.” He almost sounded like he was begging.
“Are you high?” I asked.
He hesitated, which was enough of an answer for me. I could always tell when he was high, mainly because he almost always was stoned. He knew it bothered me, but he always said he was a hamster on the wheel, unable to change his ways.
We were so different in so many ways. There wasn’t much that I’ve ever done. I pretty much went to work, played the piano, and hung out with Logan. He had a lot more experience in things than I could’ve ever imagined. He used drugs that I couldn’t even name. He lost himself almost weekly, usually after crossing paths with his father or dealing with his mom, but somehow he always found his way home to me.
I tried my best to pretend that it didn’t bother me, but sometimes it did.
“Goodnight, best friend,” I softly spoke.
“Goodnight, best friend,” he replied, sighing.
His hands were tucked behind his back, and he was soaked from head to toe. His normally wavy brown hair was lying flat against his head, strands covering his eyes. He was wearing his favorite red hoodie, and his black jeans that had more rips than any pair of pants should’ve ever had. And he had a goofy grin on his face.
“Logan, it’s three thirty in the morning,” I whispered, hoping not to wake my mom.
“You were crying,” he said, standing in my front
doorway. “And the storm wasn’t stopping.”
“You walked here?” I asked.
He sneezed. “It wasn’t that far.”
“You climbed the gate?”
He twisted a little, showing me the rip in his jeans. “I climbed the gate, plus,” He pulled his hands from behind his back, showcasing a pie pan, wrapped in aluminum foil. “I made you a pie.”
“You made a pie?”
“I watched a documentary on pie earlier today. Did you know that pie has been around since the ancient Egyptians? The first documented pie was created by the Romans, and it was a rye-crusted—”
“Goat cheese and honey pie?” I cut in.
His face dropped with shock. “How did you know?!”
“You told me yesterday.”
He grew a bit bashful. “Oh. Right.”
I laughed. “You’re high.”
He snickered, nodding. “I’m high.”
I smiled. “It’s a forty-five-minute walk from your place to mine, Logan. You shouldn’t have come that far. And you’re shivering. Get inside.” I grabbed his dripping wet hoodie by the sleeve, and yanked him down the hall to the bathroom connected to my bedroom. Closing the door behind me, I sat him down on the closed toilet seat. “Take off your hoodie and shirt,” I ordered.
He smirked mischievously. “Aren’t you going to offer me a drink first?”
“Logan Francis Silverstone,” I groaned. “Don’t be weird.”
“Alyssa Marie Walters. I’m always weird. That’s why you like me.”
He wasn’t wrong.
He took off his hoodie and shirt, tossing them into the bathtub. My eyes danced across his chest for a second, and I tried my best to ignore the butterflies in my stomach as I wrapped three towels around his body. “What the heck were you thinking?”
His caramel eyes were gentle, and he leaned in closer to me, locking his stare with mine. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I ran my fingers through his hair, which was so cold and soft. He studied my every move. I grabbed a small towel, kneeled in front of him and shook my head as I started drying his hair. “You should’ve stayed home.”
“Your eyes are red.”
I snickered slightly. “So are yours.” Thunder rumbled outside, and I jumped out of my skin. Logan placed a comforting hand against my arm, and a small hiccup escaped my lips. I stared at his fingers lying against me, and his stare fell to the same place. Clearing my throat, I stepped away from him. “Do we eat pie now?”
“We eat pie now.”
We headed to the kitchen, quietly, hoping to not wake my mom, but I was almost certain she wouldn’t wake up due to the amount of sleeping pills she took each night. Logan jumped on the countertop, shirtless with soaked jeans, holding his pie.
“Plates?” I offered.
“Just a fork,” he replied.
Grabbing a fork, I jumped on the countertop beside him. He took the fork, scooped up a large piece of pie, and held it out toward me. I willingly took a bite, closed my eyes, and fell in love.
Gosh.
He was the best cook. I wasn’t certain of it, but I doubted many people could pull off a goat cheese and honey pie. Logan not only pulled it off, he gave life to it. It was creamy, fresh, totally delish.
I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, waiting for another bite, which he gave me. “Mmm,” I lightly sighed.
“Are you moaning over my pie?”
“I’m definitely moaning over your pie.”
“Open your mouth. I want to hear you do it again.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re being weird again.” He smiled. I loved that smile. So much of his life involved frowns, that whenever he smiled, I learned to cherish that moment. He scooped up a piece of the pie and hovered it by my lips. He started making plane noises, moving the spoon as if it were flying through the air. I tried my best not to laugh, but I did. Then I opened my mouth, and the plane landed. “Mmm,” I moaned.
“You are such a good moaner.”
“If I had a dollar for every time I heard that,” I mocked him.
He narrowed his eyes. “You’d have zero dollars and zero cents,” he mocked back.
“You’re a jerk.”
“Just to be clear, if there are any guys calling you a good moaner other than me, jokingly, I’ll kill them.”
He always said he’d kill any boy who looked my way, and a big part of why my relationships never worked out probably had something to do with that fact—they were all deathly afraid of Logan Francis Silverstone. I didn’t get the fear, though. To me, he was just a big teddy bear.
“This is the best thing I’ve eaten all day. It’s so good that I want to frame the fork.”
“That good?” he smirked, a heavy amount of pride running through him.
“That good,” I said. “You should really think about going to culinary school like we talked about before. You would be amazing.”
He huffed, a slight frown finding him. “College isn’t for me.”
“It could be, though.”
“Next subject,” he said, scrunching his nose. I wouldn’t push it. I knew that the subject was a touchy one for him. He didn’t think he was smart enough to ever get into any kind of school, but that wasn’t the truth. Logan was one of the smartest people I knew. If only he saw himself the way I saw him, his life would change forever.
Stealing the fork from his grip, I scooped more into my mouth, moaning loudly, to make the conversation much lighter. He smiled again. Good. “I’m seriously so happy you brought this, Lo. I’ve actually hardly eaten all day. My mom said I needed to lose twenty pounds before I start college in the fall, because I’m in danger of the freshman thirty.”
“I thought it was the freshman fifteen?”
“Mom said since I was already overweight, that it would turn out to be even more than the average student. You know, she loves me like that.”
He dramatically rolled his eyes. “What a sweetheart.”
“I’m not supposed to eat after eight at night.”
“Luckily, it’s past four in the morning, so it’s a new day! We must eat all the pie before eight!”
I giggled, quickly covering his mouth with my hands to keep him from shouting anymore. I felt his lips lightly kiss the palms of my hands, and my heart skipped once. I pulled my hands away slowly, feeling the butterflies forming, and cleared my throat. “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”
We did it too; we ate the whole thing. As I went to clean the fork in the sink, he grabbed my hand. “No, we can’t clean it. We have to frame it, remember?” As his hands held mine, my heart skipped twice.
Our eyes met, and he stepped closer. “And just so you know, you’re beautiful the way you are, Aly. Screw your mom’s opinion. I think you’re beautiful. Not just in the superficial ways that fade over time, but I mean in every way possible. You’re just a beautiful fucking person, so screw other people’s thoughts. You know how I feel about people.”
I nodded, knowing his motto by heart. “Fuck people, get a pet.”
“That’s right,” he smirked, releasing his hold on my hand. I missed his touch before it even left. He began yawning, which distracted me from my erratic heartbeats.
“Tired?” I asked.
“I could sleep.”
“You’ll have to be gone before my mom wakes up.”
“Aren’t I always?”
We went into my bedroom. I gave him a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that I had stolen from him a few weeks ago. After he changed, we climbed into my bed and lay side by side. I’d never slept in the same bed with a boy before, other than Logan. Sometimes, when we slept, I’d awaken with my head on his chest, and before I pulled away, I’d listen to his heartbeats. He was a heavy breather, who inhaled and exhaled through his mouth. The first time he stayed over, I didn’t sleep a wink. Yet as time went by, his sounds began to remind me of home. As it turned out, home wasn’t a certain place; home was a feeling from the ones for wh
om you cared most, a feeling of peace that calmed the wildfires of your soul.
“Still tired?” I asked, as we lay in the darkness, my mind still wide awake.
“Yeah, but we can talk.”
“I’ve just been wondering. You’ve never explained to me why you love documentaries so much.”
He brushed his hands through his hair before placing his hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. “One summer, I stayed with my Grandpa before he died. He had this documentary on the galaxy that got me hooked on wanting to know more about…everything. I wished I remembered the name of the documentary because I’d buy it in a heartbeat. It was like black hole…or black star…” He frowned. “I don’t know. Anyway. He and I started watching more and more documentaries together; it became our thing. It was the best summer of my life.” A wave of sadness seemed to hit him as he glanced down. “After he died, I just kept up the tradition. It’s probably one of the only traditions that I’d ever had.”
“You know a lot about the stars?”
“A lot about the stars. If there was a good enough place in this town I’d show you the stars without all of the light pollution, and show you a few of the constellations. But sadly, there isn’t.”
“That’s too bad. I would love that. I’ve been thinking, though. You should make a documentary about your life.”
He laughed. “No one would want to watch that.”
I tilted my head in his direction. “I would.”
He gave me half a smile before he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into the curve of his body. His warmth always sent sparks flying through me.
“Lo?” I whispered, half awake, half asleep, and secretly falling for my best friend.
“Yeah?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but instead of words, a quiet sigh left me. My head fell against his chest, and I listened to the sound of his heartbeats, counting each one. One... Two… Forty-five…
Within minutes, my mind slowed down. Within minutes, I forgot why I was so sad. Within minutes, I was asleep.
3
Logan
Ma and I didn’t have cable in our apartment, which was fine, I didn’t mind much. When I was a kid, we had cable, but it didn’t seem worth it because of my dad. He was the one who paid the cable bill, and he always complained about me sitting in front of the television watching cartoons. It was as if he hated that I was somewhat happy for a few moments during the day. Then one day he came into our home, took the television, and canceled the services.
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