I parted my lips.
She parted her lips.
I leaned in.
She leaned in.
Then we started all over again.
Chapter Eight
Alyssa
We were quiet.
There were only a few sounds in my bedroom that I chose to notice. The sound of the ceiling fan rotating round and round overhead, as we lie beside one another on my bed. There was the sound of the vinyl record playing on top of the dresser, a record that hiccupped every few seconds as if it was damaged—yet somehow it also sounded as if it were completely whole. An automatic air freshener sent off a hiss of rose scent every few minutes, the smells dancing across our noses. And last there were our small inhales and exhales.
My heart was pounding in such a violent way because it was scared, I was certain of that. Each day that we spent together, the more I started to fall for him. Tonight we kissed. We kissed for what felt like forever, but still not long enough.
And now, I was afraid.
His heart was as afraid as mine, I thought. It has to be.
“Lo?” I said, my throat dry, making my voice crack.
“Yes, High?” He started calling me High the moment we left the billboard—after he called me his greatest high.
I loved it more than he’d ever know.
I snuggled closer to him, falling into the curve of his side. He always made me feel as if he were my security blanket, the place that always wrapped me up when life grew a bit cold. He’d always held me, even when he himself felt so, so lost. “You’re going to break my heart, aren’t you?” I whispered against his ear.
He nodded, guilt in his eyes. “I might.”
“And then what will happen?”
He didn’t reply, but I saw it in his eyes—the fear that he might hurt me. He loved me. He never said the words, but it was there.
There was something to be said about the way Logan loved a person. It was quiet, almost secretive.
He was afraid of letting anyone know of his love, because if life had taught him anything, it was that love wasn’t a prize, it was a weapon. And he was so tired of being hurt.
If only he knew that his love was the only thing that kept my heart beating... Oh, how I wished he’d love me out loud.
We were quiet once more.
“High?” he whispered, inching a little closer.
“Yes?”
“I’m falling in love with you,” he softly spoke, his words a mirror to my mind.
My heart skipped.
I sensed the fear and the excitement in the tones of his voice. The fear was much stronger, but the undercurrent of bliss was still alive, too.
Nodding slowly, I reached for his hand, which he allowed me to hold. I held it tight, because I knew this was it. This was the moment that changed everything. The moment when we couldn’t go back. We’d been doing this now for a few months, having these feelings that we felt yet understood nothing about. Loving your best friend was weird. But somehow it was right. Before that night, he never came close to saying the word love to me. I wasn’t certain that there was space in Logan’s heart for such a feeling. Everything about his life existed in the realm of darkness. So for him to say those words meant more than anyone would ever understand.
“It scares you,” I said.
He held my hand tighter. “It scares me a lot.”
I used to wonder how one knew they were falling in love. What were the signs? The clues? Did it take time or was it one full sweep? Did a person wake one morning, drink their coffee, and then stare at the person sitting across from them and surrender completely to the free fall?
But now I knew. A person didn’t fall in love. They dissolved into it. One day you were ice, the next day, a puddle.
I wanted that to be the end of the conversation. I wanted to lean in, wrap my arms around him, lie back down, and fall asleep in the bed. My head would rest against his chest and he would lay his hands against my heart, feeling the beats that were made by his love. He would softly kiss my chin and tell me that I was perfect the way I was. He’d say that my quirks were what made me beautiful. He’d hold me as if he was holding himself, his touch filled with care and protection. I wanted to wake up feeling the warmth of this damaged boy beside me, the boy I was dissolving into.
Yet what one wanted wasn’t always what they received.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” he said. His words hurt me more than I’d ever show. “You’re my best friend, High.”
“You’re my best friend, Lo,” I replied.
“And I can’t lose that. I don’t have many people… I trust two people in my life; you and my brother. And I would fuck us up. I know I would. I can’t allow myself to do that. I’ll hurt you. I hurt and ruin everything.” He turned to me, and our foreheads pressed against one another. His eyes were dilated, and as my hand lay against his chest, I could feel how his words hurt him. He parted his mouth and moved in close, whispering against my lips. “I’m not good enough for you, High.”
Liar.
He was everything good in my life.