Page 54 of The Things That Hold Us

“We can do that.” I say, swallowing the thickness that's suddenly in my throat.

He smiles, and I'm assuming he can tell he has an effect on me, despite me trying to ignore it.

But to be fair, we are sitting very close, and his eyes haven't left mine.

So there's that.

“Tell me something about you.” he says, so casually. But he’s also fidgeting with his fingers, so maybe this isn't only affecting me.

“Um. Let me think.” I tell him.

“No, no thinking. What's the first thing that comes to your mind.”

Our legs are almost touching and I want to know what it feels like.

“I like the color brown?” I blurt out instead, trying to hide the heat of embarrassment I feel in my face.

He chuckles, and looks down at his hands.

“Brown is a good color. That's the first thing you thought of though?”

“I mean you kind of put me on the spot, where else was my mind going to go?”

“I don't know, a childhood memory. A favorite movie to watch. A book you like.”

“Ok see you didn't ask that. You asked for the first thing that comes to mind, and when I’m put on the spot it's going to be something random." I laugh and shake my head, then lean up and grab my glass, taking a sip.

He smiles at me, “I like that sound.” then takes a sip of his wine.

I freeze, “What sound?”

“Your laugh.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” he says, looking down at his glass.

“Don’t apologize.” I tell him, but he just shakes his head.

“No, I need to, because you’ve made it clear you're not interested in anything other than being friends, so I apologize.”

“Logan, friends can complement each other.”

“I know.” is all he says.

“It’s the wine. Makes people say stuff.” I tell him, which makes me think maybe I should slow it down.

His eyes meet mine, and there's something in them that I just can't put my finger on.

We hold eye contact for a minute, and every inch of my body is telling me to lean into him, but I know I shouldn't. I can't.

“Uh, I should probably go.” he says before I can say anything.

Logan stands, setting his glass down and I stand up with him, “Oh. Ok. I guess it is getting late.”

“Yeah.” he walks to my door, grabbing the handle, then turns to me.

“Goodnight, Charlie. Thanks for dinner.” he winks at me, and starts walking down the hallway.

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