His First Crush

by Fields, MJ

  “Don’t do that. Don’t talk down about yourself. You are so much more than that to everyone.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about everyone. I give a fuck about you.”

  She smiles. “I give a fuck about you, too.”

  I can’t stop fucking looking at her, even when it seems to make her uncomfortable. This is the London who won my heart before it was even ready to start beating.

  “You’re perfect for me, you know.”

  “Everything you never wanted,” she reminds me of something I said a few months ago.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna love you better than any little scene you’ve ever played over in that beautiful mind of yours.”

  She swallows hard and looks down at my pants.

  I lift her chin. “I’m not gonna fuck you tonight, London. I’m not gonna make love to you either.”

  She looks relieved, and I laugh.

  “Don’t laugh. I just want to be prepared, okay?” she whispers.

  “Prepared how?” I whisper back.

  She smiles, and that blush that was beginning disappears. “Oh, there are things we girls need to do in order to make things perfect.” She grins now.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yep.” She pushes that little nose in the air, smiling proudly at herself. “I’m going to blow your mind, Logan Links.”

  “You’ve already done that a hundred times over.”

  “Well, I’m gonna do it a million times then.”

  “No doubt you will, pretty.” I push the menu over to her. “We better figure out what we want, or they may kick us out.”

  She laughs and looks over the menu while I keep looking over her.

  §

  “I’m so gutted,” she groans, and I laugh as we walk out of the restaurant. “Laugh it up, but when I pass out from a carb high and sleep all weekend, who’s going to help with final plans for the fundraiser?”

  I shrug.

  “My dad, that’s who.” She laughs. “Won’t that be fun?”

  “He isn’t an issue for me.”

  “I’m so glad, because...” She stops and looks away.

  “Because what?”

  “Never mind.” She shakes her head.

  I nudge her. “Spill it.”

  “Can you imagine if I ever introduced them to someone who isn’t you?”

  “You mean a pussy.”

  She laughs now. “Yeah, I mean someone who isn’t as stubborn as you.”

  “Determined,” I correct.

  “I’m determined to...you know,” she says with all the self-confidence she carried on any production I have watched her in.

  “What are you determined to do?”

  “Make you love me—”

  I interrupt her with a laugh. “Already do.”

  She turns and looks at me. “Yeah, I know. But I’m gonna make it so you never stop. I’m gonna make it so you never run off to that house again, trying to get away from me. I’m gonna—”

  “Putting you first took me there.”

  Her face falls a bit.

  “I’ll do that a million times over.”

  “Well, I’m never gonna make you have to again.”

  I hug her. “You and I doing things right, going on dates, getting to really spend time with each other, putting us on the top of our priority lists—we’ll be fine.”

  She looks up at me. “I know we will. But I know you have needs and—”

  “I need to experience all the same firsts as you do.”

  “You’ve experienced a lot more than I have.”

  “If you’re talking about fucking, I’ve had all the wrong kinds of experiences. I can’t wait until I experience that with you.”

  She looks down. “So, when?”

  “You’re making this too much fun, London. The waiting, the anticipation—all that shit I have never experienced. You have no idea how much I’m loving every beautiful experience with you, so we’ll get there when it’s time.”

  “But you know I need to be prepared,” she reminds me.

  “You’ll be well-prepared and that, London, will be the only time you’ll be thankful I’m experienced.”

  Her eyes widen.

  “So, think of my past as training leading up to the big game.”

  I get a fucking high from watching her nervous excitement. But when she does what she’s doing now, looking at me with anticipation, I catch a bit of it, which makes me even higher.

  I hear music and look around. Across the street is a little bar I have never been in.

  “Let’s grab a drink,” I say, taking her hand and walking toward the bar.

  I really don’t want a drink, but I hear music, which makes me want to dance with her.

  “I don’t have my ID,” she says, laughing as I hurry us across the road.

  “If I’m all you think I am, it shouldn’t be a problem.” I smile back at her as I open the door. “After you.”

  She smiles as she walks in, and yeah, I watch her ass, following closely behind.

  “I love this song,” she says as I grab the hand reaching for her.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I tell the fucker.

  “It’s my fucking job, man.” He looks up at me. “Shit, Links?”

  I shrug.

  “So, this is—”

  I hold my finger to my mouth. “Let her have some fun.”

  He nods. “Yeah, of course.”

  She smiles back at me and raises her hands in the air. “I love this song!”

  Until just now, I was caught up in the moment, like she is now. I didn’t even think about being in a fucking bar with her. I wish to fuck I had a hat on, because as soon as she sees me, she’s going to know.

  “Come on.” She smiles.

  I look around the bar. There are a dozen people or so, all couples, all older, and all seem fucking normal.

  “Logan.” She continues to smile. “Come dance with me.”

  Fuck, I think as I walk over to her.

  Her hands are on my shoulders. She runs them up my neck and to each side of my face. “Dance with me.” Her eyes aren’t smiling as much now, but she’s trying. “Dance with me in this bar, Logan.”

  “You okay?”

  She nods. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

  I pull her into my arms, and we fucking dance.

  When the song changes, she looks up at me. “My father used to love this song.”

  “Troy?” I ask, and she nods. “What’s it called, London?”

  “ ‘High Enough’ by Damn Yankees.”

  “You know the words?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sing to me?”

  She smiles and nods, and then, when the chorus begins, she sings, “Don’t say goodnight, say you’re gonna stay forever. Oh, whoa, all the way. Can you take me high enough to fly me over yesterday?”

  I know this song. I don’t know where or when I heard it, but I remember it.

  I start singing with her, “It’s never over, and yesterday’s just a memory.”

  She hugs me tighter around the neck, and I do the same, as she sings in my ear and we dance to a song that makes a hell of a lot of sense.

  No fucking way I want to live without her, not for a damn minute.

  When the song ends, another begins.

  “You know this one, too?”

  “God yes, my dad loved hair bands.”

  “Keep singing to me, pretty. I’ll keep holding you tight.”

  After several ballads are played and a few groups of people begin to trickle in, the music gets faster .

  “You ready to get out of here?”

  “Home?” she asks on a yawn.

  “Yeah.”

  As we are walking out, London tugs on my hand, and I look back. Then she smirks and points to the corner of the bar.

  Fletcher fucking Reeves.

  I look at her. “You wanna go say hi?”

  “Heck no!” She laughs.

  “Thought you were friends,” I s
ay, turning as if I’m going to go say hello myself.

  “Don’t you dare.” She laughs again, yanking me back.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s on a date.”

  “So?”

  “So, that’s Mademoiselle Antoinette.”

  “Another friend. That makes two. We should definitely say hello.”

  She pulls my hand hard this time. “She’s a professor.”

  I glance over to see her hand running up his thigh.

  “Oh, my God,” London says, tugging my hand. “Let’s go.”

  When we get outside, she’s laughing, not one bit upset that fucker is with someone else, and looking at me like I’m the shit. And you know what? I fucking am.

  “Just one question?”

  “What?” she asks, gripping my shirt.

  “Did the bow tie do anything for you?”

  She pushes me. “No, this is actually the first time I’ve seen him wearing one.”

  “You rethinking this?” I motion between us.

  “I don’t think so.” She grips my shirt and pulls me hard against her. “Can’t get rid of me that quickly.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  * * *

  New Normal

  London

  As suspected, the past week has been incredibly busy and very emotional. Mom, Brody, Tessa, Lucas, Maddox, Harper, and even Grandma Josie have been here most of the time. Keeka and Grandma seem to be getting very close. It’s good to see her taking time away from her bar to live. It’s just as good to see Keeka smile, even when she looks overwhelmed. I have caught her crying many nights when I come in to cuddle up against Logan.

  Her tears do not affect me like Lexington’s. Hers are tears caused by an overwhelming amount of emotions. Two nights this past week, I have fallen asleep talking to her while she’s feeding Leddie.

  The first morning, Logan asked me if everything was okay when I walked out of her room.

  “Just peeked in to see if she needed anything, and she was crying while feeding Leddie,” I answered.

  “At the hospital, Tessa voiced concerns about postpartum depression. I looked it up. I saw it in the hospital and a couple days after we came home—”

  “I think that was more about her being scared,” I said as he wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head before handing me a cup of coffee.

  “Saw a big change in her the night I left,” he said, kissing the top of my head again.

  Feeling guilty, I looked up at him. “I’m—”

  “Don’t be. Just part of what got us where we are now.”

  I nodded, smiling. God, I smile so much now.

  “So, you think she’s okay?”

  “No way does she have postpartum depression. Postpartum obsession maybe. I mean, think about it. How often do you get to have Leddie strapped to you in that baby bjorn?”

  “The what?”

  “The carrier thing.”

  He smirked. “Not a lot since the day I came back.”

  “What?”

  “Swear to God, when I came back here and saw you all un-showered and having taken up residence in my bed, I considered putting you in that thing and carrying you around.”

  I smacked his abs and he laughed as he took my hand and kissed it.

  “Seriously, though, we need to figure out what’s up with her.”

  “I’m fine,” Keeka said, carrying Leddie into the room.

  “I wasn’t insinuating you weren’t; just want to do something to help if you’re unhappy,” Logan told her.

  “I’m un-showered. Which one of you wants to hold Leddie so I can shower?”

  “I do!” We both answered at the same time.

  “I win.” I smiled, getting to her first.

  Logan handed her a cup of coffee. “It’s decaf.”

  “Postpartum obsession.” Keeka giggled as she walked back to her room.

  I watched him scratch his head as she walked away and shut the door. “Something’s up.”

  “Your uncle Logan is crazy, huh, Leddie? Tell him. Yes, you tell him that your mommy loves you and is happy and is no longer fighting being here or accepting help. She’s just emotional. Yes, she is. It’s a girl thing, huh? Tell him.” I turned her to face him to find him looking at me like I cracked. “What?” I laughed.

  “There are two things already this morning that I refuse to waste my energy on trying to figure out. The first is why mothers spend so much time in the bathroom, and the second is why grown women talk to babies as if they’re babies, too.”

  I couldn’t help laughing, and if at all possible, I thought I loved Logan Links even...more.

  §

  It’s Wednesday evening when Clive pulls up in front of the apartment building.

  “The second floor is all lit up, Miss London. Will you be staying in for the night?”

  I lean forward and smile. “You’re officially off London detail, Clive. I’m not going anywhere without Logan. I’m assuming Maddox and Dad are here, as well?”

  He nods and winks. “Goodnight then.”

  “Goodnight, Clive.”

  When I walk in, Logan is in the lobby with Leddie strapped to him.

  “Totally adorable.”

  He nods and smiles, making the dimples deepen. My knees weaken. “I am, aren’t I?”

  I love this Logan so, so much more than the brute, unhappy male whore I have been pining over for years now.

  “You’re sexy, Links. Leddie, she’s adorable.” I wag my eyebrows at him, and he just shakes his head.

  I look up when someone clears their throat, already knowing who it is without even turning around. “Hey, Dad.”

  “How were classes today?” he asks as he walks around me from behind.

  “Good. Better because it’s my Friday.”

  “You aren’t enjoying school?”

  “It’s fine, Dad. Just...” I shrug. “You know, lots of talk about everything and lots of questions about you, Maddox, and Logan.”

  He puts his arm around my shoulders. “You can always come home.”

  I look up at him sternly.

  He smirks. “I’ll never stop trying.”

  “I can accept that as long as you can accept that this is now home.” I smirk back.

  He rolls his eyes and pulls me along beside him. “Shall we go sort out some details?”

  I look back at Logan. “You coming?”

  We walk through the stairway door. It’s loud. Clearly, there are more people than I expected to be here today.

  When we round the corner and walk in, I look around, shocked to see the entire football team mixed in with my family, Logan’s family, my girls, most of our freshman drama department, and even Fletcher.

  “No bow tie today. Must have left the teacher back in class,” Logan whispers, and I can’t help giggling.

  “What’s everyone doing here?” I ask him and Dad.

  “Sorting donations, preparing for the bachelor auction, and some are just lending a hand.” Dad pats my back then steps over to where Maddox and some of the team are surrounding a table that is heaping with items I assume are for the baskets that are also piled on the table.

  “That’s...” I pause, still trying to find a word that means overwhelming, generous, or awe-inspiring. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow,” Dad says.

  “You want Leddie or would you like to help?” Logan asks.

  “What do you want to do?” I ask because he’s holding Leddie.

  He shrugs. “I can handle both.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “And you think I can’t?”

  Dad chuckles, no doubt amused by my sassy attitude directed at Logan.

  “I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind to.” He smiles. “Most of the time.”

  “Oh, please,” I huff.

  Logan shakes his head. “Feeling badass today, huh?” His eyes dance in amusement.

  To that, I can’t help smiling. “Actually, yes.”

 
He leans over, kissing the top of my head. “In this case, I’m right, pretty.”

  “Is that so?”

  “My arms are much longer than yours. You can’t reach.”

  Dad chuckles. “He has a point, princess.”

  Holy hell, my father just took Logan’s side. I mean, Logan’s right, but this, this is a miracle.

  I look at Logan, knowing he sees it as a win, as well.

  He winks. “I got Leddie. She’s sleeping and blissfully unaware of all the excitement she’s missing. When she wakes up, I promise you can have her.”

  Lucas looks up from the table. “Oh no, I called dibs.”

  “Bully.” Dad sighs as he pushes up his sleeves and walks over to the spot next to Lucas.

  Lucas rolls his eyes. “Brit.”

  I look at Logan, who looks amused. I know it’s because there is much less venom in their exchange. The two are actually joking now.

  An hour later, Dad is holding Leddie and looking smugly at Lucas.

  “You may have won the battle”—Lucas flashes a bright smile—“but we all know who wins the war.”

  “Very funny,” Dad replies dryly. “Just keep in mind that history doesn’t always repeat itself. Take your son for instance.”

  I expect Lucas to come back with something equally as sarcastic.

  “His father raised him right.” Lucas looks at Logan, winks, and then turns back to Brody, waiting for him to throw a jab.

  “That he did.” Brody looks at Leddie and sighs. “Which is fortunate for you, tiny princess.”

  I may faint. Like, I seriously may fall out right now. My dad is actually praising Lucas and Logan right now.

  Logan squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s finish this up so we can head upstairs before midnight.”

  When Keeka walks into the room an hour later, I can’t help smiling at the fact she has her hair done, straightened like it was the first time I met her, and she has on very light and a natural amount of makeup.

  Maddox nudges me. “She looks well-rested and much more like her sister today than ever.”

  I nod. “She’s amazing, Maddox.”