Page 50 of Hypothetical Heart
I don’t know if it matters. I have a feeling no matter what side of the bed I’m on, I won’t sleep comfortably unless it’s also the side Logan’s on.
Still, I say, “Right.” And still, he untucks the covers and climbs in on the left.
Iwake up to the smell of tequila-tainted morning breath and the feeling of being completely enclosed.
When I roll over, I’m pressed completely chest-to-chest with Logan. Our legs are intertwined, and his arms are wrapped around my waist.
“Are you awake?” I whisper when I feel his arms tighten the slightest.
“Yeah,” he says. When I try to pull away, he only holds me closer. “Don’t get up, I’m comfortable.”
This seems wrong, and yet I can’t help but sink back into the feeling of Logan’s hard chest behind me.
“How’s your hand?” I ask, lifting it up to my face to get a better look.
“Bruised, but not too bad.” He only winces when I press down too hard on his swollen knuckles.
“I can’t believe you punched him,” I say, laughing. He laughs, too.
“I can. He was a dick.”
There’s an odd feeling surrounding us, and I’m certain Logan notices it, too. If there was a white dotted line marking where friendship moved to more-than-friends,Logan and I have been bound to the friendship side for as long as we’ve been alive, only slipping over it one time three years ago.
Right now, though, we’re walking that line.
I keep my eyes on the clock on my bedside table, watching as the minutes turn over themselves. What feels like seconds turns into minutes, and what feels like minutes turns into an hour.
I see the eight turn to a nine, and realize maybe basking in this feeling for as long as we have isn’t the best idea.
“We should get up. You definitely need to shower.” I joke, to which he pinches my hip bone.
“I could get used to waking up like this,” he says, burying his head into my hair.
“We can’t,” I sigh, hoping he can’t hear the hurt in my voice. The truth is, I don’t even knowwhywe can’t. It’s just my gut reaction.
“I know.” His voice sounds just as tormented.
Without saying anything else, we both sit up, making our way into the bathroom.
“You can take a shower in here. Do you care if I brush my teeth once you’re in?”
“No, of course not,” he replies as I turn on the shower.
“Turn it right to make it warmer, left for colder,” I say, stepping out of the bathroom. “Just let me know when I can come back in.”
He nods. I hate this.
When he calls through the door that I’m okay to come in, I make quick work of brushing my teeth and combing through my hair.
“Winnie?” I hear a knock on the door, which makes me freeze like a deer in headlights. “Are you showering?”
“Weston?” I call, confused. My brother’s not evensupposed to be here. The last I knew, he was hiking in Montana.
Logan pokes his head out of the shower curtain, and I put my finger over my lips, silently begging him to stay silent while I figure out what I’m going to do.
“I need to grab something I left in your cabinet. Is it okay if I come in?”Shit. Shit. Shit!
I start balling up Logan’s clothes and stashing them under the sink.
