Page 100 of Hypothetical Heart
I lean back into him, pressing my lips to his before pulling back away. “I’m fine.”
I feel my cheeks redden at the reminder of what we just did, and my hair is no doubt a chaotic mess from Logan’s hands.
On the other hand, I can’t keep my eyes off the way he’s smoothing over his button-down, his lips a brighter shade of red than usual.
“Ready to head out?” The question isn’t meant to be sexual; it’s not like he’s asking to go home just so we can go further than what we’re capable of on a piano bench, but it still makes my heart race.
“I’m ready if you are.” Part of me feels forced to pretend none of that happened–to fall back into Logan and my old ways– but I have to reassure myself mentally that justbecause Logan and I aren’t technically dating, it doesn’t mean that didn’t mean what just happened is insignificant.
By the time we make it to the sidewalk outside the building, the streets are noticeably busy with dinner-time traffic.
“Have you eaten? You hungry?” Logan asks, so nonchalantly I almost don’t even register it.
I stop on the sidewalk so abruptly that the straps of my backpack fall from my shoulders and halfway down my arms. “Can we not pretend like that didn’t happen?”
“Pretend what didn’t happen?” he teases, a smile falling over his face.
I try not to laugh. “I’m being serious.”
Logan slings his arms around my shoulders, continuing down the sidewalk, now pulling me alongside him. “I really need you to hear me when I say this,” he tells me.
I nod.
“I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel like I’m trying to forget aboutanyof the moments between us because that is the furthest thing from the truth.” He squeezes my upper arm with the same hand that is wrapped securely around me.
“We’ve always been very different in the way we express ourselves–while I’m the type to scream my best news from the top of a skyscraper, you keep it to yourself–and that’s okay, neither way is wrong, it’s simply where we differ.” I nod, leaning further into him so my head isresting on his bicep as we walk. “I tone myself down when it comes to things I think would make you uncomfortable, and maybe that’s wrong of me, but that’s why we’re having this conversation.”
“I don’t want you to tone yourself down,” I tell him. “If you want to scream from the rooftops, then do it. I would never ask you to change yourself in order to make me morecomfortable.Lifeis uncomfortable no matter what, and it’s something we have to live with every day, so why not make it uncomfortable by your own means?”
He presses his lips to my temple, veering me toward the entrance of our favorite sushi restaurant up ahead. “You’re right, and I’m glad you were able to tell me how you feel. Thank you, sweetheart.”
All I can do is smile. At him, at his overwhelming urge to understand every aspect of me, at his willingness to learn from our conversations. He truly is good, all the way down to his core, and it encapsulates my entire being.
“We’re getting sushi now, right?”
He laughs, holding me tighter. “Whatever you want.”
I don’t feel bad about the decision because I know it’s also what he wants. Almost all of our decisions are in full agreement, which always makes the choice seem better because it’s not just what one of us wants, it’s whatwewant.
It takes a few minutes for us to get seated and for our food to come, but once I have my plate in front of me and start eating, I realize how much bigger my eyes are than my stomach.
“You’re going to have to finish this for me,” I tell Logan. He’s already eaten three pieces.
“You haven’t even started eating yet.” He reaches over the table, grabbing one of my California rolls.
I do the same, practically moaning into the bite.
“This has to be one of the best things I’ve ever tasted,” I say around a pair of chopsticks, my mouth full of sushi.
“I would have to disagree,” Logan replies.
“Seriously? What’s better than this?”
“Your lips.” He smirks cockily, knowing his confession will make me blush.
I pick my napkin up off the table and throw it at his face,both of us laughing even though he’s one hundred percent serious.
“I’m sorry if my taste in sushi offends you,” I joke.
