Invisible String

Chapter 29 -It's good to see me isn't it?

"She makes the best cappuccinos," he said with a grin that suggested it wasn't just the coffee keeping him coming back.

I also found out that John has a knack for drawing, a skill he says is essential for his work as an architect. His sketchbook, which he carries everywhere, is filled with everything from intricate building designs to quick doodles of people he meets. "It's how I process ideas," he explained, showing me a page filled with detailed concepts for a rooftop garden project.

He's a self-proclaimed trivia nerd and apparently unbeatable at pub quizzes. "My friends refuse to team up with me anymore because it's too unfair," he said, clearly proud of his random knowledge bank.

When he's not working, John loves hiking and has an ambitious goal to visit all the national parks in the U.S. "I've done twelve so far," he said, counting on his fingers. "Zion is my favorite. The views are unreal."

Oh, and he's a big fan of indie music. He even goes to small gigs around the city when he can, always on the lookout for new bands. "There's something about live music in a tiny venue that makes it feel personal," he shared.

Despite all his passions, he doesn't take himself too seriously. At one point, he launched into a story about how he once accidentally spilled coffee on a client's blueprints and had to charm his way out of trouble. "Thank God for backups," he joked.

I couldn't help but laugh along with him. It was funny to see how different he was from Logan. Where Logan exuded calm and control, John was all energy and spontaneity. They were almost opposites, yet it was clear they balanced each other in their own way.

"I started my own firm a couple of years ago," John shared, leaning back against the couch with a relaxed confidence. "We focus on sustainable design. I want to create spaces that are both functional and eco-friendly, you know? Something that leaves the world better than we found it."

"That's incredible," I said, genuinely impressed. "It must feel amazing to see your ideas come to life."

"It does," he admitted, a proud smile breaking across his face. "Every project is like its own puzzle. The challenge is what keeps it exciting. Plus, I get to travel for work sometimes, which is a bonus."

"You travel a lot for your projects?" I asked, intrigued.

"Not as much as I'd like, but yeah, a fair bit. Last year, I worked on a boutique hotel in Costa Rica. Stunning place. And next month, I'm headed to Seattle for a new project."

"Wow," I said, shaking my head. "You make me feel like I've been slacking."

"Says the superstar," he quipped, throwing me a playful smirk.

I couldn't help but laugh again, the sound echoing lightly through the room. John had this effortless way of making things feel lighter, like every conversation was just another chance to joke around. It was refreshing, especially compared to the intensity that sometimes surrounded Logan.

As the evening wore on, the warmth of the conversation and the cozy atmosphere began to lull me into a relaxed haze. At some point, I must have drifted off on the couch because the next thing I knew, I felt the gentle weight of arms around me, lifting me.

Logan's familiar scent and steady movements stirred me just enough to half-open my eyes. His face was close, focused, and soft under the dim lighting. He carried me like I weighed nothing, carefully maneuvering through the apartment.

When he reached the bed, he laid me down with a tenderness that made my heart ache in the best way. Half-asleep but conscious enough to feel safe, I murmured, "Stay with me?"

Logan hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching mine, then nodded. "Okay," he said quietly.

The bed dipped slightly as he climbed in beside me. He stayed on top of the covers, but his presence was enough to soothe me completely. I turned toward him, resting my head on the pillow closest to his.

"I haven't asked you my question of the day," I murmured, my voice thick with sleepiness.

Logan chuckled softly, his voice low and soothing. "Your question of the day, huh? Alright, hit me with it."

I hesitated for a moment, my thoughts swirling. "Are you still trying to live up to someone else's expectations?"

There was a brief silence, and then Logan let out a small laugh. "I take it you talked to Johnny about my parents."

"Just a little bit... hope you don't mind. I mean, you're so secretive with all things related to your family, makes me wonder about your past a lot."

He shifted slightly, his presence a calming weight beside me. "I don't mind, but... yeah, I guess I have a bit of a history with that. It's not exactly something I like to bring up."

"I get it," I said, my voice soft. "But does it ever get easier? Trying to live up to their expectations, I mean."

Logan was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if I'd crossed a line, if I was prying too much. But then he spoke, his tone quieter than before.

"I think I've spent most of my life trying to meet those expectations," he said slowly. "And sometimes, I wonder if I've ever really done it for me or just to avoid letting them down. It's complicated. I don't know if I'll ever fully shake off that pressure, but I'm trying to figure out what I really want now, rather than what they always wanted from me."

His words hung in the air, and I could hear the honesty in his tone. For a moment, everything felt still, like the weight of his thoughts was hanging between us.

"That sounds like a lot to carry," I said softly, my voice gentle. "But I hope you can figure out what makes you happy, not just what they expect."

He didn't respond right away, but I could feel his presence beside me, steady and comforting, as though he was silently processing everything. Eventually, the silence between us felt peaceful.

"Genesis?" Logan's voice was soft, almost hesitant.

"Huh?" I mumbled, my words barely audible as sleep wrapped around me like a heavy blanket. My eyes were shut tight, and the pull of slumber was too strong for me to resist. I heard his voice, felt his presence beside me, but my mind was already slipping away, too tired to respond.

"Please don't leave, don't move out," he whispered, his words soft but steady.

But by then, I was already asleep, the last of his plea fading into the quiet of the room.