“Is that all I am to you just an amusing interruption?” He teases.
I quickly look from my computer to him and give him a slight smirk.
“Are you smirking at me, Miss King?”
Every ounce of me is desperately attempting to focus on the words on my screen with what little concentration I have left.
I glimpse at him and give him a slight smile. Leaning over, he kisses me briefly on the cheek and then starts to read his book again.
I’m not sure how much time goes by, maybe an hour. But it’s enough that I’ve actually started to write my essay. Logan closes his book and tosses it on the floor. Rolling onto his side, he gazes at me while I work.
“Is your essay for your Shakespeare class?” He asks.
“Yes. I take it you’re finished with your book on persuasion.” I say while I continue to type on my laptop.
“What’s your topic?” He says as he looks over my shoulder at my writing.
“The role of the female in Shakespeare’s plays.” I stop typing and look at him. “The bawdy woman, the tragic, innocent woman, and the scheming femme fatale.”
“Interesting. Did you choose the topic or were you assigned it?”
“It was assigned. Why?” I rest my chin on my palm with my elbow propped up.
“Curious. Do you identify with any of these women?”
“No. Why? Do you think I’m like one of them?” I suppress my inner annoyance.
He softly brushes my hair off my shoulder so that it all falls to one side.
“Well, you are innocent but I don’t like the thought of you ending up a tragedy.” He confesses.
“Yes.” I giggle. “Shakespeare wrote about these pure and chaste women, like Juliet in Romeo and Juliet and Ophelia in Hamlet, then once they lose their innocence, they die. Talk about ruining the moment.”
“Definitely a good reason for sexual abstinence. Shakespeare’s sexuality has always been debated so maybe that has something to do with it.” He shrugs.
“You think he was gay? Maybe he sometimes portrayed women in a negative light because he didn’t know how to get a handle on his own sexual ambivalence?”
He shrugs. “Possibly.”
“You make a good point. Maybe you should switch your major to English? It clearly interests you and you really know your stuff.” I smile.
“My dad would love that.” He rolls his eyes.
“You never considered it as a major? I bet your mom would have been pleased.”
“Um. No. My dad wouldn’t have been pleased. He would have been very disappointed and I’ve already disappointed him enough as it is.” I can’t help but notice the sadness in his voice.
“I don’t think you’re giving your dad enough credit.”
“You don’t know my father. Let’s just say he would probably disinherit me.” He admits.
“I can’t imagine that your dad would do that.” I murmur. It’s obvious this is not something he likes to talk about. I don’t know if I should probe any further but this new insight into Logan has me brimming with curiosity.
“Look. I told you I was out of control. My parents shipped me off to boarding school. They hoped that would straighten me out, but it backfired on them. I was angry and I just got into more trouble. Emilia, I looked for ways to get into trouble.”
“It sounds like you were looking for attention. Your parents didn’t see that?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. But they couldn’t get past their anger and disappointment.”
“But your mom is wonderful. It’s obvious that she thinks the world of you.”
“I don’t know.” I’m surprised he sounds so detached.
“Well, I do know. I watched her with you. Her eyes light up when she looks at you. You’re a fool if you can’t see that.”
“I’m a fool?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Yes. A fool.” I smile and pause a beat. “Besides, it’s probably all water under the bridge now. I remember you told me your GPA is over a 4.0 and you’re student council president. They have to be proud of you.”
“I always managed to get good grades but I got kicked out of so many schools. My dad’s dream was for me to go to his alma mater, Harvard. In his eyes his only son is a failure.” He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.
I scoot closer to him and rest my head on his chest. I can feel his shallow breathing as my head gently rises up and down.
“People change Logan. I’m sure your dad is proud of you. You just don’t realize it and if he doesn’t, well, then, he’s a fool.”
He chuckles. “So I’m a fool and my dad is a fool.” He pulls me suddenly to him and kisses me passionately.
I close my laptop with my hand as we continue to kiss, making him aware I’m finished with my work. My head can’t focus on Shakespeare it’s too preoccupied with thoughts of Logan and his parents. His numerous mistakes that started at such an early age clearly led him down the road of self-destruction. But there’s one thing that gnaws at the back of my mind.
Pulling back from him, I ask, “Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“No. Never mind.” I don’t want to annoy him after he’s already shared so much.
“It’s fine. What is it, Emilia?” He says while he gently strokes my hair.
“You said you read all the time when you were little and you liked reading so much because it was an escape. Am I remembering that right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You started drinking at a really early age, right?”
“What are you getting at? Just ask. Are you worried I’ll be angry with you?” He asks gently.
I nod.
“You can ask me anything. I promise I won’t be mad. I only get mad at you when you deliberately ignore my emails or my phone calls. And, when you say you’re going to get in touch with me and you don’t.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m not finished.” He smirks. “Also when you aren’t more forceful with turning down boys who are trying to get into your pants.” He says playfully.
“Are you quite done?” I ask trying and failing to sound annoyed.
“There’s just one more thing that really gets me mad.”
“Really gets you mad?” I tease.
“No. I’m actually quite serious about this one. I don’t like when you refuse to talk to me about how you’re feeling. You tend to do that fairly often and you need to be honest with me. Right?”
“Right.”
“So ask me.”
I pause for a minute.
“I was just wondering what caused you to drink and become so self-destructive with your quest for pleasure.”
“Quest for pleasure? I like how you worded that, makes me sound strangely heroic. You could have said what caused you to be so fucked up? Your words are much more poetic than the ones I would have chosen.” He smiles.
I hesitate for a moment.
“What were you escaping from?” I finally get the words out and I anxiously look at him to see his response.
He shrugs. “You sure you aren’t also majoring in Psychology?” He smiles slightly.
“I don’t know.” He adds.
“You’ve never thought about it?” I ask softly.
“No.” I wait for him to say more. “I didn’t have a happy childhood. Maybe that had something to do with it?” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.
“But you said your parents are wonderful when I interviewed you. I met your mom and she’s lovely. I don’t understand.”
“I do have wonderful parents compared to most people. They provided us with the best of everything. We never had to worry about being hungry or not having a roof over our heads. But our house wasn’t a happy one when I was growing up.”
“Why?”
“I don’t really remember everything but I just know it was very loud. My parents were always fighting. There was a time where they couldn’t be in the same room together without get
ting into a full-blown argument.”
“Oh. I’m sure that was hard.” I am taken aback by this new revelation.
“Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and hear them. Tessa was a baby at first so she wasn’t aware of what was going on.”
He’s silent for a moment. His brow is furrowed and he looks deep in thought.
“When she got a little older, about three years old, their arguing woke her up. She’d come and crawl into bed with me. Sometimes she would cry herself to sleep.”
“Were you scared?” I ask.
“No. I don’t remember being scared. I just remember feeling lonely. I had Tessa but she was so little and by the time she got old enough to understand I was already drinking.”
“But your parents are still together.”
“I think things are better between them. I really don’t know because I don’t see them that often. I would only see them during the holidays when I was home from school. And, then I didn’t spend much time with them because I’d be out partying.”
“I wonder why they didn’t split up if they argued like that all the time.” I say softly.
“Who knows? There’s so much money at stake, maybe they decided it wasn’t worth it. It seems like they’re making the best of it. He travels all over the world and she goes to Europe by herself.”
He continues, “I guess it works for them. Just seems like a crazy way to be married.”
“Have you ever asked your parents about it?”
“No. I’m not sure if I really want to go there, especially with my dad.”
“I think it might help.”
“Help with what?” He looks confused.
“You feeling like they weren’t there for you.” I say reassuringly.
“They weren’t.” He says simply.
“Logan, you said they provided you with everything and that certainly counts for something.”
“I suppose, but not much.”
“I think you developed this chip on your shoulder very early on and you refuse to let it go.” I say in a matter-of-fact tone.
Logan pulls me close to him. “Is that what you think, Dr. King?” He smirks.
“Stop. I’m serious. I watched your mom with you and she’s crazy about you. You can’t doubt for a second that your parents don’t love you, despite all your troubles.”
“Even if you’re right it still doesn’t mean that they were there for me. What do you have to say to that doctor?” He teases.
“You know you are impossible sometimes.” I roll my eyes at him.
“I’m impossible? What do you think you should do about that?” He smiles.
“I have a couple things in mind.” I whisper.
“That sounds promising. Do tell.”
“Oh, I can’t tell you but I can show you.” I say as I slowly slide on top of him so we are nose to nose.
“Do you have any idea how enticing you are?” He breathes.
Our lips meet and we kiss passionately, very passionately. His hands are in my hair and my body is pressed against his as he rolls over and now I’m pinned underneath him.
“I don’t want to lose you, Emilia.” He whispers.
“I’m not going anywhere.” I breathe.
We are wrapped in each other’s arms, his head nuzzled against my neck as we drift off to sleep.
18
I WOULDN’T SAY I’m getting used to waking up in Logan’s arms but there are a couple things that I expect after a night with him. The first is that I always wake up very hot. Our body heat and close proximity assure that. Second, I open my eyes and feel pleasingly well rested.
It’s early when my eyes flicker open. I can tell this by the faint light that emanates through the gauzy curtains. Trying to keep from waking Logan, I stay still beneath him. I actually think if I wanted to move I probably couldn’t because three quarters of his body weighs heavily down on me. Peering down at him, I notice we are in the same position as the previous night before we dozed off to sleep. His head is still nuzzled against my neck, his arm and leg stretched across my body.
As I lie still, I admire the beauty of Logan’s finely sculptured facial features. I desperately want to run my fingers along his cheekbones and strong jawbone but I don’t want to wake him, especially when he looks so peaceful. I hear his cell phone buzz on the floor beside the bed and wonder who could be calling him so early in the morning.
Surprisingly he doesn’t wake from the persistent vibrating sound of his phone. My thoughts drift as I reflect on Logan’s telling words from last night. He revealed so much about himself. The new knowledge and insight of his less-than-perfect childhood gives me a better understanding of who he is. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to grow up in a household with parents who were always fighting. It’s the counter opposite of what I experienced when I was a child. My parents loved each other and I don’t recall a time when I ever heard them in an argument.
Then my thoughts shift to his father. I can’t even fathom that his dad wouldn’t want to salvage their fractured relationship. My heart aches for Logan. My dad means the world to me.
I understand how much you don’t want to disappoint your parents and how you just want to make them proud of everything you set out to do. Logan not only feels like he’s disappointed his dad, but that he’s failed him. I let out a shallow breath. I truly hope I’m right about his past troubles being water under the bridge.
Thinking about Logan as a lonely little boy leads me to reflect on my own childhood. There’s no doubt that we all have our own cross to bear.
When you are so little, life is so fragile. Painful, horrible things can happen and sometimes there’s no one there to save you. No one saved me either. Sometimes it’s beyond our parent’s control.
I shake my head in an effort to erase the disturbing images that surface into mind. Beside the bed, his cell phone buzzes again. I don’t know if it’s my slight movement or the cell but Logan slowly rouses from his slumber. He blinks his eyes open and sweetly looks up at me.
“Hi.” He murmurs.
“Good morning.” I smile.
He looks down at his body sprawled across mine and then turns his gaze back to me.
“I think you are right.” He grins.
“Right about what?”
“You won’t be going anywhere with me on top of you like this.” He refers to the last words I uttered before falling asleep last night.
I smile. “Yes. You’re right.” I playfully squirm beneath but my efforts are futile.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He teases.
At that moment the drone of his cell phone continues on.
“Now, you’re going to have to move, that’s about the tenth time your phone has gone off.” I say in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Whoever it is can wait.” He grins and pushes his body weight against me even more.
“It might be important, Logan.”
“Spending my morning in bed with you is important.”
I giggle. “Seriously. Maybe it’s your parents.”
He moves slowly, releasing me from beneath him. My legs are numb and I stretch them to get the feeling back into them. I point and flex my feet while Logan watches me with amusement.
“I didn’t hurt you. Did I?” He asks.
“No. My legs are just still asleep.”
“Did you sleep okay or did I suffocate you too much?”
“I actually slept well.”
He leans down and kisses me softly on the forehead. “I did too.”
Once he climbs out of bed he holds his hands out to me. I put my hands in his and he slowly pulls me to my feet.
Taking me in his arms, he softly says, “Thank you for letting me stay the night.”
“Thank you for bringing it on, Mr. Prescott.” I tease.
“You going for a run this morning?” He asks.
“Don’t get any crazy ideas. You aren’t racing me.”
“You worried I
might win?” He smirks.
“I’m worried you’d be too much of a distraction. You’d have me at an unfair advantage.” I say as I run my fingers through his hair.
“I believe it’s the other way around.” He says. His hands move into my hair as he pulls me to his lips. Our kiss lingers until his cell phone interrupts us.
I slowly pull away from him. “Your phone is a distraction.”
I turn away from him and make my way to my dresser. I open a drawer and pull out a fresh pair of underwear and a sports bra. Then I pull out another drawer and grab a tank and running shorts.
Logan has his phone in his hand when I head into the bathroom. After I brush my teeth, I dress quickly and pull up my hair into a high ponytail.
Heading back into the bedroom, Logan grabs me around my waist.
“What are you doing after your run?” He asks.
“I have classes and cross country.”
“After that?” He whispers and pulls me tighter against his body.
“I’ve got to work on that Shakespeare paper. Surprisingly, I didn’t get that much accomplished last night.” I smile.
“How about I come back later and help you with that?” He teases.
I giggle. “You sure you don’t want to change your major?”
“I’d like to major in you.” He grins.
“I doubt your parents will approve of that.” I giggle.
I lift my hand and run my fingers down the side of his face. “You certainly know how to distract a girl.” I smile.
“Ditto, baby.” He says as he gives me a quick kiss and then pulls away.
We make our way down the stairs to the kitchen. I open the refrigerator and grab a yogurt.
“Can I make you an omelet?” I ask.
“No. Thanks. I’ll get something later.”
I open the yogurt and start to eat it while I lean against the counter. Logan has his book on persuasion in his hand and his cell phone.
“By the way is everything okay?” I motion towards his phone.
“Yes. It was nothing.” He murmurs.
“Oh.” I say. I try to hide my suspicious tone but I miserably fail.
“You won’t get all green-eyed monster on me, will you?” He asks.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s really not my business.” I shrug.
Running from Romeo Page 23