I scuffed my feet along the pavement, the noise sounding deafeningly loud in the silence of the night. It was around nine and the only light illuminating the area was from the rich bastards' houses that streamed yellow light from their windows.
It'd been almost two weeks since I'd walked out on Logan. I'd ignored his calls for about a day or so, until I realised he wasn't about to stop unless I answered. Nothing much was said, but he apologised for freaking out on me that night, and I apologised for being a bit of twat and storming off. Since then, I'd pretty much gone around his house every other night.
It became less awkward between us after the first few visits. We talked more and...did less. It was slowly starting to feel even less like a job with him, and more like we'd just known each other from school and hung out every so oft. It'd only been two weeks though, and that's what surprised me.
I didn't understand what it was about him that made me feel so secure and comfortable, but if I was honest, I didn't like it in the least. It wasn't something I was used to. I didn't want to start confusing business with pleasure, yet I knew I was because each and every time I'd been around to Logan's, I hadn't wanted to leave.
I took in a deep breath, finally approaching his door. I knocked three times and waited for him to answer. He stood there in the doorway, leaning against it with a shy little smile on his lips. He was dressed in tight, denim skinnies and a black v-neck. I cocked an eyebrow at the sight that lacked intention, and smiled up at him with a hint of embarrassment after I'd apparently finished checking him out.
“Hey,” he said as he stood there, knowing exactly what effect his choice of clothing had on me. “I was just about to grab a quick bite to eat, you want something?” he nodded towards his kitchen as he stepped aside to let me through, closing the front door behind me.
“Erm,” I mumbled. My stomach growled quietly at the thought of food, but I shook my head nonetheless. “I'm alright, I'll get something later.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm,” my eyes wandered around the open space. The kitchen had a neutral theme to it. The cupboards ran along a corner of the room, opposite the door, in an 'L' shape. Logan was leaning against the fridge-freezer's door––which was disguised as a cupboard to fit with the theme––cracking open a coke can and taking a large gulp. I sat myself down at the island table in front of him.
“Do you want a drink, then? I've got coke, fruit juice...water. Take your pick.”
I was tempted to ask for a coke, but again I just shook my head and said, “I'm fine,” he shrugged, taking the chair opposite to mine and letting his arms rest on the edge of the table, the coke can dangling between his loose fingers.
“Weren't you getting something to eat?” I asked, starting to feel a bit unnerved by his staring.
“Got a pizza in the oven. I figured you might be hungry so you'll have to eat anyway, I'm afraid. My mum hates it when I waste food, and I can't eat a whole pizza to myself.” He grinned almost mischievously, swaying his can to and fro. I could hear the coke swishing about from side to side.
To be honest, I was actually pretty glad that he'd gone ahead and put a pizza in, cause I was hungry to hell but too polite––or nervous, however you wanted to look at it I suppose––to say so.
“You're quiet tonight,” Logan muttered, taking a swig of his drink. “Something happen today?”
“Like what?”
“I don't know, you tell me,” his eyes never left mine the entire time he spoke. They bore into me with somewhat of a challenge in his gaze. I didn't rise to it.
“There's nothing to tell. Shouldn't you check on your pizza?”
The corner of Logan's lip quirked up as he placed his can down softly on the table, knowing that I was diverting the conversation. “Right,” he moved away, heading straight for the oven. After checking the food, he sat himself back down saying, “Give it about ten more minutes and then we'll go sit and watch a movie or something. Sound good?”
“Sure,” my eyes dropped to stare at my interlinked fingers that were resting in my lap. Both heels of my feet were tapping against the laminate flooring rapidly. I needed to chill myself out. I was making it way too obvious, like a little teenage girl giggling and blushing around her crush in high school. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Pull yourself together, Ash, you're seventeen not twelve, for fucks sake.
“You okay?” Logan asked, looking at me quizzically. If I concentrated hard enough, I was sure I could see a hint of humour hidden in there. I took a deep breath and forced my feet to still. Everything suddenly seemed a helluva lot more awkward. We spent a moment of silence just exchanging weird, two-second glances.
Thankfully, my phone vibrated inside my pocket a few minutes later. I retrieved it from my jeans, taking my time with the movement. I wasn't too enthusiastic about settling back into another awkward staring contest. I looked at the caller I.D, already having an inkling that it was a client, as no one else called me this late at night. I pressed the end call button having not recognised the number.
“No one interesting?”
My eyes drifted back up to meet Logan's. “Just someone looking for a quick shag, probably.”
“Oh, right. Lovely.” He smiled down at his hands for a moment, before peering back up at me. “So, how exactly did you get into, you know, this kind of business?”
“I don't know,” my voice was the quietest I'd ever remembered it being. I wasn't planning on telling him, but I found myself explaining anyway. I was a bit surprised, if not shocked, that I'd actually opened up to someone about my past. I generally liked to leave what was in the past, in the past.
“A guy found me sleeping on the streets. It was about a month after I'd left school. He kinda took me in and gave me a place to stay. The guy was wrapped up in the whole renting business, and it went from there. I had to earn money some way, and with no qualifications, it was the easiest option at the time, I guess.”
“You started renting at fourteen?” I was expecting to hear his voice thick with disgust, but it was more shock and sympathy than anything. I hated sympathy. It made me feel so fucking pathetic. I kept my anger locked away, a war inside my head, thankfully the winning side was the one that decided it would be best not to lash out on the guy again.
Apparently, my hands had become a captivating sight for my eyes, as they didn't move an inch from them, trying to keep my mind as distracted as possible.
“No. Kyl– the guy who took me in...he sort of looked after me until I hit sixteen. Then he gave me a decision to make, and I made the right one.” – I think – “It wasn't as if I was just thrown straight into it. I was taught the ins and outs before I started; that's a lot more than a lot of other guys get.” I noticed my voice was still shy and lacked in its usual confidence.
I didn't know what it was about Logan that made me act this way. I mean, I guess I had an idea for why I was being the way I was, but I wasn't quite ready to accept that just yet.
“How come you didn't stay in school?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” I countered numbly. My eyes only just caught his gaze, holding it with a sense of intimidation. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable, and when I was uncomfortable I became quite defensive.
“I'm just intrigued by you,” he kept himself controlled, but his stare was twisted with the unspoken dare for me to tell him more. It almost made me want to, but I knew what he was doing and I wasn't about to let it work.
“Intrigued by me? I'm not your fuckin' case study,”
“I never said you were. I just want to get to know you. Why is that so hard for you to let me do?” I felt my shoulders tense up and my hands ball into fists on the table. It was so hard for me to understand why he'd want to know me. Why he'd even care about my past. What the fuck was so special about me? I wanted to ask him. What stopped me was how unsure I was about whether I truly wanted to hear the answer or not.
“And what about you? Would you tell me everything about your past if I asked you?”
“Yes.”
“Bullshit!” I slammed my fist down on the table, kicking my chair back as I stood up. The legs slid across the laminate flooring with a screech that ripped through my ear canal. I didn't even flinch at the sound, nor break eye contact. “There's shit in everybody's past. Shit that you just don't share with anyone. So that's fucking bullshit that you would tell me everything.” I told myself I wouldn't blow up on him again. I guess I wasn't very good at sticking to my word.
“Try me,” he leaned back in his chair. It creaked softly at the changes in pressure. Crossing his arms across his chest, he raised his eyebrows in encouragement. I dropped my gaze to the floor with a sigh, rubbing my forehead while I pulled the chair back up to the table.
I sat down with a huff and a groan. I really didn't know where to begin or even what to ask him, so I decided to just change the subject. “Look, I'm sorry. I get...easily pissed off.” I heard Logan attempt to smother a chuckle. When I looked up at him, he had his palm covering his mouth. “What's so funny?”
“You, um,” he pointed to his forehead briefly, “when you get angry, you have this vein that just pops out,” he was grinning now, shaking his head, “but it's cute, it's cute. Don't get annoyed or anything, it's cute, don't worry. I just, I don't know. I'll stop laughing, I'm sorry.” His laughter died down until it was simply a soft smile upon his lips.
I rolled my eyes, feeling slightly self-conscious about that vein now. “Go check your pizza,” I muttered with light irritation. Logan chuckled, getting to his feet and doing as I'd said. As he opened the oven, the smell of sweet chilli chicken flooded the air of the kitchen, filling my stomach with hungry growls.
He put the pizza on a plate and cut it up into several slices, before heading towards the doorway with the plate in one hand and a coke in the other. He had another coke tucked underneath his arm. He nodded at me to follow him out the kitchen.
I did as I was told. It was only after we'd reached the living room and I was watching Logan struggling to place the plate on the coffee table, while trying to stop the can underneath his arm from falling, that I realised I probably should have offered a hand with it all.
Oh well, nothing I could have done now.
“So what are we watching, then?” he asked, strolling over to a computer that was set up by the TV.
“Dunno, what do you have?”
“The internet,” he replied sarcastically. He shot me a grin over his shoulder. “I have my computer hooked up to the television, so as long as it's out on DVD then we can watch whatever you want.”
“Oh. Cool.” This guy certainly lived a sweet life, holy shit. I didn't really know what to do with the information. It just showed how long I'd been without technical stuff, other than my phone, and even that wasn't anything fancy like the touch screen ones I'd seen everyone using. Including Logan.
“So?” Logan peered over his shoulder from where he was kneeling by the computer.
“Um, I don't know. Just put anything on, I'm not bothered.” But I was bothered. Not about which movie we'd be watching, but the fact that I was being rented to watch a movie. Not have sex or give a blow job or anything like that.
No, I was being rented so Logan could have a little movie night with pizza and coke. What was even happening? This wasn't right at all. I felt more comfortable at that rich client's place, and that was saying something.
I sat myself down on the sofa while I waited for him to finish up with whatever he was doing on the computer. After he'd put a movie on, he pulled the coffee table up until it was barely an inch away from the sofa, and then sat himself down right beside me. We both had our legs crossed and his knee was touching my knee. He was so warm, I swear he was burning a hole through both our jeans.
I cleared my throat and tried to force myself to pay attention to the moving pictures on the big television screen. Apparently I didn't do so well, as I found my eyes trailing back to Logan as he reached forward for a slice of pizza. I watched as he raised it to his lips and took a bite, the cheese and tomato topping being pulled into his mouth by his tongue – wait. How did I find that even remotely attractive?
“You not having any?” he asked, turning to look at me. I snapped myself out of my little trance and dragged my eyes up from his mouth to meet his gaze.
“Oh, right, yeah,” I grabbed myself a slice and helped myself to a coke, too. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Logan still staring at me. I didn't dare look over at him, so instead I pretended to be wrapped up in what was going on in the movie, when really, I had absolutely no fucking clue why there was a clown fish on the screen making some lame joke about a sea anemone, that made absolutely no sense whatsoever.
“You're acting weird,” Logan stated, still staring at me. I acted like I hadn't heard him speak. “Have I said something wrong, or done something?” he continued. I couldn't see him properly, still only able to see him in my peripheral vision, but I swear his eyebrows scrunched further down his forehead.
I continued to ignore him.
I assumed he was starting to get annoyed, as he shuffled around until he was sitting on his knees facing me. Even closer to me now, it seemed. “Ash,” I blinked once, still watching the movie but not taking anything in. “Ash, stop pretending you can't hear me.”
I sighed, letting my head fall back against the sofa, angling it so that I could see him. I said, “What?” in a slightly more than frustrated tone.
Logan shifted where he sat, pizza held idly in his hand, half-raised to his lips. “Why are you being so weird with me, what's going on?”
I wanted to laugh. Instead I replied, “What's going on? What's going on is that I'm being paid by some guy to sit and eat pizza and watch movies. That's what the hell is going on,”
“You'd rather be in some dirty hotel room having sex with an eighty year old?” he countered, eyebrows raised, tone a mixture of defensive and amused.
I felt angry at his words. I didn't appreciate being mocked. “You don't know anything about my life. It's not like that. I'm not the kind of guy you think I am,”
“Ash,” he closed his eyes, sat forward and sighed, placing the pizza back on the plate. “I barely know you because you don't let me in, so how can I even have an opinion on what kind of a guy you are?”
I stood up to leave, the animated movie still playing as background noise to our obvious disagreement. I shuffled around the sofa, heading towards the front door. Logan shouted from behind me, still seated, “Ash, please don't go, I'm sorry!”
I paused to say, “Look I don't need your pity, okay? I don't need you to feed me, look after me or whatever it is you're doing. I don't need it. I take care of myself. I'm not some stray dog that you can just take in, alright?”
I turned around to see Logan in front of me, now. I could feel the sorrow emanating from him as he saw the tears at the edges of my eyelids. “I'm not taking you in like a stray dog. I like spending time with you. You're different than all the other guys at my school and, I don't know, there's just something about you that my mind won't let go of,”
I scoffed, “I should go,” the words were revealed in a whisper. Apparently my voice had given up on trying to be strong, collapsing under Logan's pleading gaze. I didn't really want to leave, though I knew I had to. I had to. But I didn't.
I didn't because Logan said, “Come back to the sofa, finish the movie with me. Stay a little longer at least,” in such a voice that begged me without really begging at all. And I gave in. I sat down, I watched the movie. I stayed a little while.
I stayed a lot longer than intended.