CLANDESTINE | HS |

FIVE

Logan

Lo.

I can still hear it.

Sometimes it's like I find myself daydreaming about it.

Pink, pouty lips curving around the two letters. Shortening my name into something that could only be his own. One that belonged to him and him alone.

Harry.

Jesus, I need to get a life.

One time, Logan.

One time only.

Shaking my head, I focus as I slip my hands into a pair of new white gloves. I've been so excited for these specific pieces to arrive, it's like I'm practically buzzing with excitement.

Putting all the thought of rich, deep accents and dark, unruly curls out of my head, my fingers trace over the written letters in the paper in front of me.

There's something so monumental about having the words of Louisa May Alcott in front of me.

Generations and generations of women have read her work and the fact that I get to handle the pages is one of the highest honors I've ever had.

I try to control my breathing as I flip the page over as carefully as possible, making sure to use both hands. Containing my smile is impossible when I see the little doodles in the corner from her sister.

Getting these pieces for the Women in Literature exhibit was not easy. Honestly, I'm pretty sure I bought myself three bottles of wine after I closed on the deal.

It's so important for people to see the impact women have had in society throughout history. Yes, I know, some people think history is boring. But when you can relate it back to modern times and show just how fucking powerful it can be?

Yeah, sign me up.

Giving myself as much time as I can with the pieces, it's almost like leaving a part of myself behind when I step back and remove my mask and my gloves. That's how it always feels when I have to leave an archive room.

Talking with a few of my employees, I give them strict instructions on what I need done before heading back to my office. Replying to email after email, I swear my vision starts to cross by the time I get to collect my things and make my way back to my second favorite place.

Home has always been where my books are, making my apartment the greatest place on earth.

Parking my car and taking the elevator up, my
mind takes a right turn down the same path it has every single day since Lauren's birthday. I feel my cheeks heat as goosebumps race across my skin at the memories of what it felt like to have Harry pressed against me just a week ago.

What it felt like to feel him roll his hips into mine while I was trying to unlock my door.

Perhaps the worst of all is the way I've gotten more use out of a waterproof vibrator than I ever thought that I would.

Even my fucking kitchen made me think of him — the way he pushed my sweater up over my skin and said things to me from behind me that I've never heard before.

Maybe I needed to move.

Start over.

Something.

Although, this apartment was a place I could never leave. It was my place.

I've never let any man cloud my mind this much and for that reason alone I need to hate him. I need to be able to see Harry and not feel fire racing through my veins at just the single thought of him.