Page 105 of Hypothetical Heart
31
OCTOBER
For fall break, none of us went back to Fairwood. Everyone wanted to do something different, and going back to freezing cold Connecticut just didn’t seem like much fun. So the six of us, and most of our parents, board flights to Myrtle Beach. And it’s honestly been a huge weight off my shoulders.
Being back with the people who feel like home, even if we’re nottechnicallyhome. It makes me realize how lucky I am to have such amazing people who are worth missing so much.
The house is packed to the brim with people, and there hasn’t been a dull day since we got here.
It’s Saturday night. We’ve been here since Thursday. Fall break ends tomorrow when everyone will be taking many different flights to various different places on the East Coast.
Shockingly, our parents all wanted to go bar-hopping for the night, leaving the college kids to fend for ourselves after dinner.
As soon as we walk back into the house, Luke goesstraight to the liquor cabinet. “If our parents get to have fun, so do we,” he says, pulling out the biggest bottle of Grey Goose I’ve ever seen.
“Flawed logic, considering we’re underaged, but I won’t argue,” Genevieve replies, grabbing glasses down from the cabinet.
All of us make drinks before heading out onto the back deck, the one that is hoisted up above the beach on giant beams, with steps leading down to the beach and only about a hundred yards from the ocean. It’s October now, and at night, the air is crisp, but during the day, it’s just warm enough to remind us why we love the feeling of summer.
I take small sips from the glass between my hands. A lot of the time, alcohol makes me sleepy, which is why I don’t find myself participating often. But tonight, I’m not in a random house, and my bed is right inside.
Slowly, I’ve started to slump down in my chair as the effects of my vodka soda started to slowly kick in, especially when the boys pulled out the metal fire pit and made a small fire to sit in the middle. The breeze blows the warm air toward me, which makes my eyes become even heavier. It’s somehow always me who’s falling asleep around the fire, and it’s always a serious conversation that stirs me awake.
“Can we talk about the skeleton in the closet, please?” Genevieve sighs, sitting forward in her chair.
“We’re outside.” Luke jokes from where he’s sitting across the fire.
“It’s an idiom, idiot,” she shoots back.
“Go ahead, Gen.” Logan waves her on.
“What would really happen if Winnie and Logan got together?” Her question has me almost catapulting myself out of my chair and into the fire.
“What?” Logan and I ask at the same time before his eyes lock on mine.
I twirl a piece of hair between my fingers, so caught off-guard from Genevieve’s question that I can barely think straight.
“We’ve been dancing around the question for years.” She argues. “I know to you guys it seems impossible, but just think for a minute about what it could be like.”
“Gen,” Logan sighs, letting out a ragged breath. “Stop. Don’t make something out of nothing.”
I physically wince at his words. Nothing? Really? It didn’t seem like nothing when he’s been kissing me in my apartment every day.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the intensity in his voice like a stab in the chest. I didn’t think that he’d act so against the thought of being with me in front of our friends.
Whether or not they know about our current situation doesn’t matter. There is no reason for him to act completely disgusted by the thought.
“Logan,” Eloise counters. “Don’t be stupid.”
“This is none of your business,” he says, sounding more neutral after he sees the look on my face.
Genevieve looks at me, a pleading look in her eye. As if she’s begging me to talk some sense into him. I try to hone in on the fact that everyone else is a lot more intoxicated than me, but all I can think about are Logan’s words.
I know I can’t force Logan into having feelings that aren’t there. I can’t make him love me. If he’s showing how he truly feels right now, in front of all our friends, that’s fine.
“We’re friends,” I say flat out, watching Logan’s face drop the same way mine did.
“Winnie—” Luke presses.
