CHAPTER SIX

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Sorry this update took so long. :/ Anyways, here it is!

Enjoy!

~

16 May 2015

46 days before...

It was morning; a few hours earlier I'd woken up from the worst night of sleep I've ever had, and Logan was still upstairs continuing his snooze fest, completely relaxed and worry free.

I, on the other hand, was not.

After a terrible night of scattered thoughts and frequent tossing and turning, my body'd finally given up and woken me around four this morning. Ever since then, I'd been trying to think of the perfect way to tell Logan about the move. And so far I'd gotten nowhere.

Right now it was nine, and I was still pondering how exactly to do it. So many factors, bad timings, and wrong attitudes could make this whole ordeal ten times more disastrous. If I was too blunt about it, just came with it outright, he could think I was indifferent and that I didn't care about how he would take it. But if I was too sensitive about it then he could think I thought he was weak. Or if he was in a bad mood and I told him, he could go into super asshole Logan. Or if he was in a good mood when I tell him, then he could quickly get out of his good mood.

So many things could go wrong!

Feeling buried with stress, I feel my head start to throb. Deciding I need to take a break from thinking, I slide off my bed and retrieve my journal's hiding place from under my mattress. I put it on my desk and sit in the swivel chair, grabbing a pen and opening it to the next empty page.

Logan was my best friend and my confidant. However, there were things I couldn't even tell Logan. Every person should have some type of private time to gather their thoughts, and my journal was it. It was my paper solitude; I told it everything, including the things I told Logan and the things I didn't.

Starting off from the last entry about how the boys had made it to the championship, I fill it in on what's been happening ever since then and ending at my dilemma. By the time I'm done, a lot of the previous tension has left me and I don't feel as scatterbrained or as stressed.

However, despite my relaxing time of writing, I still hadn't thought of a way to tell Logan.

Maybe I should just tell him when he wakes up. Or when we're eating breakfast.

Letting out a breath, I sit thinking for a few more seconds before getting out of the chair, hiding my journal back in its hiding spot, and opening the door to leave my room. I take the few steps needed to get in front of Logan's door, and after hesitating for only a second, I let myself in.

Logan has two sleeping habits: if he's cold in his sleep he curls up so his knees are at his chest and the blankets are bundled everywhere around him, but if he's not cold then he's sprawled out and usually will be at some odd angle on the bed.

It was pretty amusing to see, no matter which way he was. Right now, he was sprawled out on his stomach, his head next to the wall and his long legs hanging off the bed starting at his knee.

"Ridiculous," I mutter as I keep staring at him. The blanket was tightly wrapped around his waist and right leg multiple times, making me wonder how exactly he'd moved to get it that way.

"Logan," I say loudly, knowing he probably won't respond on the first try. He was such a heavy sleeper.

I sit in a vacant spot on the bed next to his back. "Wakey wakey, Logan." Prodding him in the face with a finger, I say it over and over again, getting louder each time.

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