Logan and I had been friends for years.
We had lived in that same cul-de-sac for the majority of our lives.
It was only until a couple days after first grade that we met. Now, I've always been a confident, upbeat person. I didn't have much trouble making friends back then. So when I saw Logan, I instantaneously decided that he was my new best friend.
We bonded over pretty much anything two kids could. Dinosaur facts, Handy Mandy, PG rated horror, whatever.
Now, Logan isn't exactly shy, no. We're not that stereotypical "confident popular kid meets shy outcast" type. In fact, he was really chill. He definitely preferred playing terrible Xbox games than go to those terrible grade school dances, but he wasn't bashful at all.
It was late at night on Friday, where Logan and I were yelling at each other over gang beasts.
"Ay mattress, can I come over?"
I scoffed for a minute. "Yeah yeah, okay, lemme ask mom."
It was already dark out, but it was a weekend, so I flung the headphones off my ears and rushed downstairs.
"Hey mom!!"
She didn't turn her head from her show, but acknowledged me with a little "hm?"
"Can logs come over?"
"Yeah, but tell him to bring a blanket, half of them are in the washer."
I bolted back up the stairs again, to scream at him. "Alright, get your ass over here." I didn't bother repeating my mothers advice, he can suffer a single night without a blanket.
"Ay man!" He greeted me at the door with a fist bump.
We zoomed to my room where the only light that aired was the TV. The window paralleled it, and probably looked like a from outside spotlight.
We ended up playing games, shoving each other, and laughing. But it still being a school year, we eventually had to go to bed.
I laid out a thick blanket in the floor for him to sleep on, to which he got mad.
"Not even two??"
"The blankets aren't washed, would you rather me take them all?"
I hopped onto my bed and let Logs stand on that singular blanket, pissed off. However, this didn't last long, as he grabbed the collar of my shirt and dragged me off my bed to the floor, alongside him.
He leaned over me and glared into my eyes; his curled hair fell from his face.
"If I'm gonna be on the floor, so are you."
I held his eye contact, staring intensely back into his two shined eyes,
as i reached a pillow from the bedspread and smacked it directly across his face.
For this, I got hit repeatedly, slap to slap to slap from the soft thud of the pillow.
I got ahold of the pillow, grinning widely. We practically wrestled over the pillow, waking up the whole neighborhood with our giggling and shouting.
We tussled the rest of the sheets off the bed and collapsed into the pile of thin quilts and pillow covers face first.
We got settled eventually, mindlessly mumbling to one another, because we got scolded for being loud.
The last thing I could tell I was drifting off. Logan was beside me, rambling absently. I ultimately fell asleep after the night.
I began to open my eyes. My room was drenched in cold morning light. The first thing my conscious recognized was how warm I was, despite being half-tangled in the blankets. I was a bit dazed from just waking up, but I knew something was off. I tried to move my arms but they were immobile. I looked to see what had restricted their movement, and found myself surrounding Logs.
Shit.
My right arm was cutting him just below the rib cage, my left one met it, circling him.
I moved the only arm I could off of him. I just laid for a second, resting. His breaths were shallow with sleep. I slid my arm out from under him, and got up immediately. After the initial shock of waking up in the position, I awoke the the realization of how messy I was. I got up and into the shower, and avoided all thoughts of what had happened. At least Logan wasn't awake to make the discovery.
I got dressed and he woke up some time later, and he left, but my mind kept repeating the whole thing in my memories. Part of me was laughing, and part of me wanted to scrub my memory and never speak to logs again.
But there was a small part of me that kept creeping back out.
"What if he woke up and knew? What would have happened? What did I think about this?"
Oh well. I'll keep burying those thoughts, and never speak of it again.
