Invisible String

Chapter 25 -The aftermath

"Hey," I said, barely above a whisper.

Logan didn't respond right away. He stood there, watching me with that look—like he was waiting for something. I could see the uncertainty in his eyes, but it wasn't just about the situation; it was about us. And that was exactly what I wasn't sure about.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice soft but steady.

I nodded, stepping aside to let him in. As he entered my room, I closed the door behind him, but the quiet between us felt heavier than ever. I sat back down on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to say.

Logan stood across from me for a moment, his hands in his pockets, his gaze distant, as if he was sorting through his thoughts. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he sat down beside me. The space between us felt smaller, but there was still a tension, an unspoken wall that neither of us seemed ready to tear down.

"I'm moving out," I said, my voice calm but resolute.

I could feel the shock in his silence, his expression faltering for just a second. We hadn't really talked about how long I'd be staying with him. I think we both knew this wasn't a permanent arrangement, but hearing it out loud made everything feel a little more real. I had stayed with him for a while now, and as much as I appreciated everything, I knew it was time. Time for me to move on and find my own space, time to finally stand on my own two feet.

Logan blinked, his eyes wide for a moment as he processed what I'd said. "Oh," was all he managed to say, his voice quieter than usual. He shifted slightly, the weight of my words settling between us. "Are you sure? I mean... it's sudden."

I nodded, trying to sound more certain than I felt. "It's just... time, you know?" I paused, meeting his gaze, my voice softening as the weight of the moment hit me. "I need to do this."

Logan seemed to hesitate, a frown forming on his face. "Did I do something wrong?" His voice was quiet, like he was bracing for an answer he didn't want to hear.

I shook my head quickly. "No, not at all," I reassured him, my heart twinging at the vulnerability in his question. "You've given me a place to call home when I needed it the most. We didn't even really know each other, and you still took me in without question. I'll never forget that." I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat. "But it's time for me to move on. I can't keep hiding anymore."

Logan's expression faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed my words. The air between us grew heavy, thick with the unspoken tension that had been building for weeks, maybe even longer.

"Does this mean we are no longer...?" His voice trailed off, and I could see the hesitation in his eyes. He already knew what he was asking, and I knew exactly what he feared.

I let out a shaky breath, my heart beating louder than ever. "I don't think I can keep doing it," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "I don't see you as a friend, Logan." The words stung as I said them, but they felt necessary—like they were the only way to move forward. I could see the hurt in his eyes, the confusion flickering in his gaze.

Realizing how badly I'd just hit him, I rushed to explain. "I mean, you're so much more than that to me," I continued, the words tumbling out. "And this... this thing we're doing—it's feeding the feelings I have inside. And it's not fair. To either of us." I could feel my chest tightening with every word, as if the weight of everything we'd been hiding was coming to the surface all at once. "I don't want to hurt you," I added softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't keep pretending we're just friends when everything feels... so much more complicated than that."

Once again, silence.

I watched him, his brow furrowed in concentration, as he processed my words. His lips parted as if to say something, but then he closed them again, chewing over his thoughts, caught in the turmoil of it all. The silence between us felt suffocating, and I could almost hear the war of emotions inside him.

I had never seen him look so conflicted, so torn. Part of me felt guilty for putting him through this, but I also knew we couldn't keep pretending everything was fine. The tension between us had been building for so long, and now it was all spilling over.

Then, unexpectedly, he broke the silence. His voice was quiet, but the words hit me like a punch.

"Go out with me."

I blinked, unsure if I had heard him correctly. "What?" I asked, my pulse quickening, both curious and confused.

He took a deep breath, his gaze steady on mine, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "I mean it. Go out with me. On a date."

My heart skipped a beat. The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I couldn't think straight. A part of me wanted to say yes right away, to let him pull me back into something more—something real. But I knew we had just reached a breaking point. What we had been doing—this messy, tangled mess—wasn't going to lead to a fairytale ending. Was it?

But his words—on a date—kept echoing in my mind.

Was this what we both wanted? Or was it just a way to hold on to something that was already slipping through our fingers?

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words didn't come right away. Instead, I found myself staring at him, lost in the weight of the decision I wasn't sure I was ready to make. My thoughts were a whirlwind, crashing against each other, too fast, too loud to hear myself think.

And before I knew it, he started kissing me.

His lips pressed against mine, gentle at first, as if testing the waters, but it didn't take long before everything in me went still. The uncertainty, the tension, the confusion—it all melted away in that single kiss. My heart hammered in my chest, but it felt right. So right.

His hand found the back of my neck, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened. I could feel the heat between us, that pull we'd always tried to ignore, building up with every breath, every touch. It was as if the walls we'd built around ourselves were finally crumbling, piece by piece, leaving nothing but raw honesty in their wake.

The kiss deepened, hunger and desire building between us with every passing second. His hands moved, tracing the curve of my back, pulling me against him as if he couldn't get close enough. I could feel the weight of his body, the warmth of his touch, and the urgency that had always been there, lurking beneath the surface of our friendship.

My hands found their way to his chest, fingers threading through his shirt, pulling him even closer. Every inch of space between us felt like it was meant to be closed, meant to be filled with something we'd been denying for so long.

Logan's lips moved from mine, trailing down to my neck, his breath hot against my skin. My mind swirled in a haze of emotion, the logical part of me fighting to hold onto whatever restraint was left, but it was useless. Every kiss, every touch, was pulling me further into something I couldn't deny anymore.

His hands slid under my shirt, the cool air hitting my skin as he kissed me with more urgency, more desperation. I felt myself responding, the barriers between us completely shattered. The chemistry between us was electric, undeniable. 

This was no longer about a simple kiss, about friendship or labels. It was about desire, about wanting each other in a way that neither of us had been brave enough to admit before.