“Trust me, one taste of my cooking and you’d be changing your mind in a heartbeat.”
Logan laughs again and the rough sound combined with the sight of him so at ease and happy stirs an emotion in my chest. I suddenly feel a wave of apprehension as the feelings I’ve been struggling with threaten to overwhelm me. I try to push it all away, but it stays with me.
I tap my fingers on the counter and try to ignore them. The soft click, click, click of my nails aren’t soothing though. For the past few hours, things have been better that way, with me ignoring the constant insecurities and red flags going off in my head. Yet I feel like if I don’t get what I’m feeling off my chest, things are only going to get worse.
Just tell him, if he gets spooked by how I feel, then this wasn’t meant to be.
The notion that he’d cut me off as soon as I tell him that I might be feeling more for him than the sex fills me with dread. But I’m burning with the need to put this out there. I want to get a feel of where we’re at. And it’s not going to happen if I keep pretending like this is all just hot sex.
Summoning my courage, I say seriously, “Logan.”
Logan's expression is solemn as he looks at me, and I get the sense that he already knows what I’m going to say. “Yes?”
I hesitate. This is it. This is where I tell him how I feel, and it’ll be our last night together. “I’m… scared,” I say finally. There. I said it. If he pushes me away after this, so be it.
Logan doesn’t seem at all surprised by this admission. In fact, it seems like he’s been expecting it. “About what?”
My heart pounding, I gesture at the space between us. “About this. About us. I feel like this could… become more than just sex for me.”
Logan walks over and climbs onto the stool next to me, taking my hand and kissing it softly, sending tingles up along my arm. Then he looks me straight in the eye. “I appreciate you being honest.”
Searching his face, I wait for him to say more, to tell me that this is becoming more to him as well. But he doesn’t say it, and instead he looks like he’s calculating what he wants to tell me, like he wants to be very careful of what he says next.
This fills me with wariness, and it’s just another red flag that I’m better off leaving, yet I remain glued to my seat.
After a moment, Logan offers, “How about this. Let’s just enjoy each other for as long as we can, and if everything goes well, we can reassess later?”
It’s not the words I want to hear. I’m telling him how I feel now, and if I’m already feeling like I’m too invested, what’s it going to be like later? Will he just keep stringing me along as I slowly fall in love with him, using me as his sex toy until he wants to discard me?
It’s an unsettling thought and not one I want to believe he’s capable of doing. But the fact that he isn’t starting to feel the same is yet another warning sign. I shouldn’t be here. And I need to get out before I’m in too deep. I just don’t know how.
“I don’t know if I want to do that,” I say. “I don’t know if I can handle another…” my voice trails off. Ian.
Logan stares at me and I feel like he wants to say something, but is holding it back.
My lips part to ask him what it is that he’s not telling me, but the sound of the doorbell interrupts the moment. Our food is here. Planting another kiss on my hand, Logan gets up from the bar and goes to pay for our meal. I take a deep breath as he leaves the room and try to shake out my nerves. On top of being sore from our fuck session, I’m tense all over.
This is going to end up not working, I tell myself. I’m going to end up heartbroken and all alone, my faith in men shattered.
I don’t want to believe this. I want there to be something between me and Logan, as there’s so much more to him than sex. But there’s a reason why he doesn’t want to become more involved, and I need to just accept that.
I need to just tell him that after tonight, this is over. There’s no reason to string this along if it’s never going to turn into anything. I’ll just end up a messed up basket case.
“What can I do to ease your mind?” he asks me as he sets the bags down on the counter and takes out one white takeout box at a time. The smell fills the room and although my mouth is watering, I don’t have an appetite. He takes my hand in his and I feel like just melting in his arms and telling him, Tell me that you feel the same way. Without that, I’m not sure I can, or should, move forward.
But I can’t say the words, because I know I’m just setting myself up for disappointment. Logan knows how I feel and if he wanted to put me at ease, he could just simply say that he feels the same as me, even if only to get me to shut up. The fact that he hasn’t shows that this is as far as he wants it to go.