Page 20 of Hypothetical Heart
It’s unlike them to meddle, and yet they feel so strongly about the idea of Logan and me going to homecoming together.
That’s what they told me, at least. I have no idea what they said to Logan before they lured us in here and slammed the door behind us.
“Have you guys come to any agreements?” Genevieve asks through the door.
“Evie, let us out!” I yell back.
“Come on, Winnie, you know you want to,” Eloise teases.
“GUYS!” Logan shouts even louder. “Let us out! This is stupid!”
“Winnie, do you have something you want to tell Logan before we let you out?” Genevieve yells back.
“Guys, please.” I’m not above pleading for them not to make me humiliate myself in this tiny closet.
“That’s not exactly what we’re looking for,” Eloise says, laughing.
This closet can’t be bigger than six feet, going in each direction. I have even opted to stand most of the time because when I do sit, Logan and I’s knees topple over oneanother’s.
“Are you okay?” he asks as I lean against the door.
It’s October in Connecticut, probably snowing outside, and despite all that, I’m breaking a sweat.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand.
“You can barely breathe. Why don’t you sit, I’ll stand.”
Logan’s hand juts out, holding onto my shoulder. “Sit, Win.”
“I’m fine,” I mumble. I don’t feel like I'm moving myself any lower toward the ground, but the next thing I feel is my butt hitting the floor.
“God, you’re sweating fucking buckets.” He sounds like he’s about to start panicking, and if he starts panicking, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.
“Don’t you want to be a doctor?” I question sharply. He quietly replies with a hushedyes. “You need to learn not to panic so much in stress-inducing situations, then.”
“Do you think I’m going to be pushed into a dark closet with a critical patient and no supplies?”
“Critical? Logan, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine!” There isn’t much room, but I think he’s pacing.
I just hold my legs to my chest, laying my chin against my kneecaps, desperate not to fall over. “Logan, I think I’m going to—” My body starts to slump.
Suddenly, a hand grabs my face. “Do not!” Logan warns. The closet is dark, but his finger is pointing close enough to my face that my vision can somewhat focus on it. “Do not pass out, do you hear me?”
“I’m trying not to!” I widen my eyes, struggling to sit up straighter.
Logan sits next to me. “Good.”
He wipes the sweat-covered hair out of my face, using a hair tie to tie it back into a low ponytail.
Why does he have a ponytail? Are there other girls?
“Where did you get that?” I ask.
“Get what?” I point to my hair. “I took it off your wrist.” Question solved.
“I feel like I’m going to vomit.” My head was lulling back and forth.
