His gaze turned to me, his expression both serious and thoughtful at the same time, as if he were trying to decide whether or not he was going to say the next thing. “It’s still early. Will you come with me? I want to show you something.”
Yes.
“I don’t know, Logan. I should probably call it a night,” I said as I took a poking stick off the ground and began to push around the fire embers.
“What are you, eighty?” he laughed, lightening the mood. “C’mon, it’s early. I promise I won’t bore you.”
Every part of my subconscious screamed that it was a bad idea to get close to this boy. Why did he have to be so endearing?
“Really, Logan? You want to show me something?” I grinned.
His jaw dropped as he feigned shock. “Nothing inappropriate, friend,” he teased. “You’re not gonna make me beg, are you? Cuz I don’t beg.”
I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be funny, or suave, but the exaggerated puppy-dog look he gave me brought an unintentional laugh out of me. Actually, it was more of a snort, but the expression of victory in Logan’s face after it came out of my mouth—and nose—made the embarrassing sound worth it. I was beginning to doubt he could ever bore me. My subconscious could shove it. Just for tonight. I had to have more of this boy. “Alright, Zoolander, take me away.”
After putting the embers out with the garden hose, we climbed into his Mustang and drove off.
Chapter Seven
It was dark out but still warm enough to have the windows down, and the breeze felt refreshing on my skin. The colorful glow of the city lights reflected on the interior of the car as we moved. A blues song played on the car stereo as we drove through the city. The waves of the wind pushed against my hand as I held it out the window
Logan’s fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the music, then he looked at me and busted out singing the words of the song. I giggled at the face he was making as he sang. He was so into it. The words were something about “riding with the king.”
“Oh, now I know what you really think of yourself!” I joked.
“It’s B.B. King, Liv! He’s the king, not me!” he defended, pretending to be hurt.
I found it intriguing that someone my age would be listening to blues. Logan seemed so different from other people my age, and for the first time ever, I was interested in finding out more about a boy. As the song ended, Logan turned the volume down.
“The phone call that Gavin took earlier…It was for a race, wasn’t it?” I asked.
Logan looked at me and nodded.
“Why do they call Gavin? Why don’t they call you?”
He shrugged. “Gavin is better with the negotiations. I’m better at the driving. It works well for both of us.”
“You didn’t go tonight.”
He looked at me and smiled. “I guess I had better things to do.”
“What about the police? Isn’t street racing…?” I decided not to finish. We both knew it was not exactly legal.
He chuckled. “I’ve got nothing against cops. Police are good. We just don’t want to see them during a race…or before or after a race, for that matter.”
“Isn’t it a little risky, though? You never know when they could show up.”
“We take precautions. I don’t race unless there are spotters around to let us know if police are coming close. We change the location as much as possible. There is always a risk, though.” He paused. “The real risk is dealing with some of the idiots that want to race.”
“What do you mean?”
He shifted in his seat, beginning to look uncomfortable. “You never know if the other guy is on something or if he even knows how to handle his car. Among other things. The police are the least of my concerns.” He looked at me. “I almost called off the race last week. The one that you came to.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he started tapping the steering wheel again. “Derrick was more jittery than normal. I didn’t have a good feeling about it.”
“Well, why didn’t you call it off then?”
His expression became serious as his eyes fixated on the road. “I don’t know.”
He knew why. He just didn’t want to tell me. “Why do you do it if it’s so risky?”
He pondered the question for a moment as if he had never really contemplated that thought before. “It’s easy. And fun. And a hell of a lot better than working nine to five, six days a week.”
We pulled up to a two-story commercial building which had four overhead garage doors in the front and an entry door on the side. The sign above the overhead doors said “Tanner Automotive.” We parked in the lot in front and walked towards the building.
“This is my shop.”
“Your shop?” I found it hard to believe that a nineteen-year-old owned his own building.
“Yes, my shop. My dad left it to me and my uncle. My uncle runs the business. I help him out when he needs it, and I live in the apartment upstairs.”
“Geez, must be nice,” I teased.
“Actually, it is pretty nice,” he grinned back at me.
I watched as he unlocked the side door. We entered a hallway which had stairs to our left, and the garage was straight ahead. We walked into the garage, and Logan switched on the florescent lights, revealing a sizable object underneath a grey canvas cover in the very first car bay. The remaining three car bays were empty, making the room appear enormous. Against the walls were shelves and peg boards stocked with tools and auto supplies. Each bay had its own tool station which included several different tool chests.
We moved to the back of the garage, and Logan tossed his keys on a metal desk. I took a seat in the swivel chair in front of the desk and stared curiously at an old-time movie poster that hung on the wall.
“It’s John Wayne,” Logan explained, noticing my interest in the poster. “My dad was a huge John Wayne fan. He always had those movies on when I was growing up. We even had a room in our house specifically designated for all the John Wayne memorabilia that he collected.”
He leaned back against a tall Craftsman tool chest directing his attention to the grey canvas cover in front of us. His expression turned apprehensive, and he silently stared at it for a moment.
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked softly.
He turned his face to me, meeting my eyes. Slowly he shook his head as if he wasn’t sure he knew the answer. My heart skipped a beat. What was it about looking into his eyes that made me feel so…at peace…and thrilled at the same time?
He stepped toward the canvas cover then slowly removed the cloth, rolling it up along the way to reveal an old white muscle car with black racing strips which traveled from the front bumper to the back bumper. The condition of this car wasn’t nearly as pristine as the Mustang. The finish was dull with several nicks and scratches, and a few small spots of rust lined the bottom.
“It’s a ’72 Nova,” he disclosed as he walked around the car, taking in the sight of it as if it were for the first time.
“It must be your current project.”
“Not really,” he shrugged. “This one’s been on hold for a while. I’ve barely looked at it since…” He didn’t finish. His face turned serious, and he stayed silent for a moment. Then, his expression melted into warmth and he looked at me, cocking his head to the side. “Hey, do you wanna go upstairs and get a drink?”
I frowned at him suspiciously. “Is that why you brought me here? You’re not going to get lucky with me.”
He let out a chuckle then bowed his head down as he shook it, trying to hold back the laughter. He couldn’t hold back the gigantic smile on his face, though. “Don’t worry! I’m not going to try anything with you. I think you’re cool, Liv. You’re someone I could hang out with, that’s all, nothing more. Friends have drinks together, right?”
I nodded, feeling embarrassed that I jumped to conclusions. I stood up from the chair. “Alright then, let’s go.”
“Usually it’s the guy’s mind that’s in the gutter,” he teased as we walked up the stairs to his apartment.
“Oh, please! You have to admit, it sounded a bit forward,” I counter attacked.
The apartment was only half the size of the garage downstairs. The décor consisted of a few posters on the wall, a couch with a coffee table in front of it, an oversized round wicker chair in the corner, and a giant TV. There was a breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. I took my shoes off, sat down on the couch, and brought my knees up, resting them on the cushion.
Logan handed me a beer, sat down next to me, and raised a brow. “Now it’s my turn to ask the questions.”
He didn’t ask anything too deep or too personal, and I was grateful for that. We spent the next few hours laughing and talking about everything from our favorite foods and music, to embarrassing moments, places we’ve been and want to go, and a rather extended round of “would you rather.” I found out that he would rather get a cardboard cut between the toes than get poked in the eye. And I informed him that I would rather drink pickle juice than sour milk.
There were no awkward silences or lulls in the conversations. I showed him that I could walk across a room with a full bottle of beer on my head without spilling it, and he showed me that he could spin a pen around his fingers so fast that it looked like moving helicopter propellers. Towards the end of it all, as we started to get tired, I asked him about the blues music that he was playing in the car earlier.
“There’s such a raw emotion behind the really good blues music. The guitar speaks to you in a way that doesn’t happen with any other genre,” he explained.
“So, let’s hear it. Play me your favorite blues song,” I challenged.
He turned it on, then looked at me with a small smile. He stepped over to the couch and sat down beside me, as the track started. It was a mellow song with no vocals. I didn’t expect it to have such an effect on me, but he was right. The guitar’s voice had a way of pulling the emotion out of me, and I was hooked no more than thirty seconds into it.
I turned my head to face him, somewhat shocked that this beautiful music moved me in such an intense, hypnotic way. He stared straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular and had a serious expression on his face.
Slowly, he turned his face to me, and our eyes locked. We stared at each other for several moments, taking each other in. The friendly smile I attempted quickly faded as the intensity in his eyes increased. The atmosphere was becoming much more than friendly. His brows furrowed as his gaze moved slowly from my eyes, to my hair, to my lips, and back.
I’m not sure if I leaned into him, or if he leaned into me, but we were slowly getting closer until I could feel his minty breath on my face, his nose on my nose, and my heart began to pound in my ears. Something told me this shouldn’t happen, that I didn’t want this to happen, but I couldn’t stop it. Was it the music that was causing me to lose control or just him?
Heat emanated from his lips as they gently touched mine, hesitating in place for several moments, and igniting a surge of fire through my blood. The longer the kiss lingered, the more my skin began to burn, and when my lips parted and his tongue slowly discovered mine, my body pulsed.
My hands slowly moved to his face, then the back of his neck, and I pulled him toward me. His hand took my neck, and he drew me closer. My control was gone. I was enraptured in the moment. This was happening, and although it was going against my plans, there was something so right about it.
He began to lay me down onto the couch when he stopped, abruptly pulling away and forcing himself back up to a sitting position. Following his lead, I sat back up. His eyes focused on me for a moment with a confused expression on his face that matched my thoughts…Holy shit, that was intense.
He took me behind the neck and drew me closer to him, his lips no more than an inch from mine. Then, just at the moment I thought he would continue our kiss, he closed his eyes and placed his forehead on mine, taking a deep breath in.
My heartbeat was almost deafening as it pounded throughout my body, my chest moving up and down as I tried to catch my breath and regain composure. Pulling away, he opened his eyes and looked at me with intensity, passion, and…confusion. “This isn’t why I brought you here, Liv,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
Then he kissed me softly on the forehead and slowly leaned back into the couch cushion. Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the drinks, but a mixture of emotions flooded my senses. I was both grateful and disappointed that he stopped and confused about why I couldn’t. I was mad at myself for being so irresponsible, but at the same time, I couldn’t deny the feeling of both peace and excitement that he gave me.
My head found a place to rest in the nook between his chest and his shoulder, as my arms held him. Closing my eyes, I became lost in the music.
Chapter Eight
The car screamed of familiarity. The soft, cushioned fabric of the passenger seat that I occupied was more comfortable than that of today’s cars, and I wondered why car companies decided to make newer cars with such firm seats. That was a bad choice.
With the engine off, and with only myself in the car, it was quiet. Almost too quiet. Taking in my surroundings, I realized this was a car I knew well but hadn’t been in for at least eight years. The multi-CD holder in the driver’s side sun visor still rested in its place. The miniature dream catcher still hung from the rear-view mirror. The coffee stain still marked the driver’s seat from when Kevin had to slam on the brakes because his laughter from my joke had distracted him.
Looking out the window, a thick fog surrounded the car, making any visibility nonexistent. It was morning but still dark out, and an orange glow laced the fog from the streetlight above. The door clicked open, letting in the brisk, misty air. The car bounced slightly as Kevin sat down in the driver’s seat, and he closed the door once he was in.
Even though I just saw him last night, I beamed with elation from the very fact that he sat here next to me, and my eyes filled with tears.
I’ve missed him so much.
A thin layer of stubble covered his cheeks, and his tangled shoulder-length hair had been pulled back into a low ponytail with the shorter parts tucked behind his ears. He wore the same flannel shirt he had on last night. It had become routine for him to drive me to school on the mornings after he spent the night at our house…which had become more frequent lately. I couldn’t wait for him to move in with Mom and me. I cherished the close family feeling I got when the three of us were together.
After starting the car, he turned to me with a kind smile which quickly disappeared when he noticed my tears. “What’s wrong, hon?”
It was Logan’s voice coming out of Kevin’s mouth.
I shook my head. “Nothing. I just had a bad dream last night, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“You wanna tell me about it?”
No way. Telling him that he died in my dream—that he was gone and buried in the ground—might make it real. “No. It’s okay. I’ll get over it.” I didn’t like it that his voice sounded wrong, and I became apprehensive. But his face exuded warmth, and seeing him made me feel…good.
He nodded as if he understood me, then directed his gaze to the dream catcher. Removing it from the rearview mirror, he handed it to me. “Do you know how these things work?”
I shook my head, becoming distracted by the little circle of white light coming from beyond the driver’s side window.
“It’s a dream catcher,” Logan’s voice said through Kevin’s mouth. “If you hang it above your bed, it’ll filter out the bad dreams and only let the good dreams enter your mind.”
The light was getting bigger…brighter. It mesmerized me, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. My eyes squinted, trying to get a better look through the fog. Logan’s voice continued to speak, but I couldn’t make out any words. Only muffled echoes. Then the light parted, becoming two bright circles, and as the
y got bigger, they began to move sporadically from side to side. That’s when I realized what was happening, and I had to stop it. I took hold of Kevin’s arm, but it wasn’t his arm anymore; it was Logan’s. “Get out of the car!” I begged, “You have to get out!”
It was Logan’s hazel eyes that stared back at me, but he continued to speak calmly as if he didn’t hear me. “Your mom means the world to me, Livie, and so do you. I promise you can always count on me. For anything.”
“Please get out! You have to hurry!” The light was too close. He’d have to get out on my side. I pushed my door open and tugged on his arm, causing him to look down at my hand. In the split second it took for us both to look back up at each other, a horn blared and headlights blinded me. As glass shattered and metal screeched, everything became black.
Dream catchers are a myth. Nightmares are inevitable.
*
My phone buzzed in my back pocket, ripping me out of my dreams. My neck was stiff, and I became aware that I was sitting upright. I forced my tired eyes open and focused on what was right in front of me. A huge ass TV. Crap! I was still in Logan’s apartment. Music still played, but it wasn’t blues anymore. My head slowly turned to the left to see Logan’s chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took as he slept.
As I lifted my head off his shoulder, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket to look at the time. It was still dark, so it couldn’t have been too late…or early depending on how you looked at it. The screen on my phone said it was 3:01AM. Two and a half hours after curfew, and I had one missed call from my mother. She and Jeff must’ve just gotten home from the pub and realized I wasn’t there. Wanting to avoid an unpleasant conversation, I decided to text her, instead of calling.
Fell asleep @ a friends. Be home soon.
What friend?
The Fine Line Page 5