Page 49 of Hypothetical Heart
Her expression softens, and she kneels down so we’re at eye level. “Of course, I’m here, Logan. I wouldn’t leave you alone like this.”
“No, I mean…” I trail off, struggling to find the words. “I mean, I’m glad you’re here. With me. Tonight. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Winnie’s eyes search mine, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s shrinking down to just the two of us. Shedoesn’t say anything, but the way she looks at me—like she’s seeing me, really seeing me—makes my heart skip a beat.
“Logan…” she begins, her voice barely above a whisper. “You know I’m always going to be here for you, right?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. There’s a tension in the air, a crackling energy that feels like it could ignite at any moment. And then, before I can second-guess myself, I reach out and gently cup her cheek, my thumb brushing against her soft skin.
She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering shut for just a second before opening again, locking onto mine. The moment feels charged, like we’re teetering on the edge of something more, something we’ve both been too scared to acknowledge until now.
But just as quickly as it comes, the moment passes. Winnie pulls back slightly, breaking the spell, and the reality of our situation crashes back down on me. We’re both drunk, both emotional, and this is not the time to complicate things even more.
“Let’s get you home,” she says softly, but there’s a lingering warmth in her voice, a promise that whatever this is between us, it’s not going away anytime soon.
I nod again, letting her close the door and walk around to the driver’s side. As she starts the car, I can’t help but steal one last glance at her, my heart aching with everything I’m too afraid to say.
15
“Let’s get you inside,” I tell Logan as I open the passenger-side door. I grab his bicep and attempt to pull him out of the car, but he doesn’t budge. “Logan, come on.”
I’ve never seen him this drunk, and as much as it is entertaining, I’m more worried about getting him safely inside and to bed.
“I can’t walk into my house, Winnie. I’m drunk,” he whispers like it’s a secret.
“Your parents aren’t going to care. Come on.” I try to reach for his arm again, but he doesn’t let me.
He shakes his head. “I’ll still wake them up, and they’ll be worried.”
I take a step back, reviewing my options. There is no way I will be able to force Logan into his house, not when he’s double my weight. I could call Jameson and make him come outside, but it’s almost three in the morning, and he’s at Genevieve’s house.
“Okay,” I sigh. “My dad’s not home. You can sleep at my house.”
It’s rare that my dad goes on business trips, but there was an important medical conference this weekend that he needed to attend, leaving our house empty for the evening.
“That doesn’t sound like a good idea either,” Logan sighs, more to himself than me. “I don’t know if I have that type of self-control.”
My mouth drops at his insinuation. “Logan!” I gasp. “You’re drunk. Nothing is going to happen between us.”
“How about when I’m sober?” he asks.
“We’ll talk about that when you’re sober,” I counter. “And I can’t carry you, so get out of the car.”
“Can I sleep in your bed?” Logan gets out of the car and begins stumbling towards my house.
I laugh, following him. “Sure, Logan.”
Once I get Logan into my house and upstairs to my room, he falls face down, smack in the middle of my bed. Suzie peers her head up at him, sniffing his legs as I grab them and pull his shoes off before I walk into my bathroom and grab him a toothbrush.
“You always told me you never fall asleep without brushing your teeth, remember?” I wave it at him, and he begrudgingly gets up from my bed and holds his hand out for the toothbrush.
We brush our teeth together, standing side by side in front of the sink. At one point, we make eye contact in the mirror, and Logan smiles.
Bile rises in my throat, and I have to play it off as if I accidentally gagged myself with my toothbrush.
Doing something so obviously romantic with Logan makes me sick to my stomach, and yet it’s a feeling I invite often. I’ve seen him in that light for almost my entire life, and when moments like that happen, I’m taken aback. Every. Single. Time.
Then, right as I wipe my mouth off with the towel next to the sink, Logan drunkenly asks, “Do you sleep on the left or the right side of the bed?”
