Home > Perfectly Damaged(33)

Perfectly Damaged(33)
Author: E.L. Montes

Does she even know that those are the exact words I needed to hear right now? “Thank you,” I say.

Her pouty lips tug into a tiny smile. Damn. I’d do anything to touch those lips again. “You’re welcome,” she says. Then she turns around and walks out of the shed. I fight back the urge to reach out, grab her, and kiss her. Not like the kiss we had on her front porch when I first met her. Don’t get me wrong, that kiss…well…it heightened all my senses and could have turned into much more than just a kiss. But it wasn’t a real fucking kiss. I want to show her how much this one moment truly meant to me. Wow. I’m starting to sound like a little bitch.

“Jenna,” I call out. She turns around.

“Yes?”

“Go out with me. On a date.” From the look on her face, I can tell I’ve caught her off guard. She opens her mouth to speak but closes it just as quickly. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” I say. “Think about it.”

“I don’t think it’s a good ide—”

“Do me a favor and just think about it first. Okay?”

She nods. “Okay. I will.”

I arch a brow. “You’ll think about it? Or you’ll go out with me.”

Jenna casually laughs. “I’ll think about it, Logan.”

And then she’s gone.

I can’t believe I just cried my eyes out in front of Logan. What the hell was I thinking? Some of the things he said resonated with me so deeply that I allowed myself to show weakness in front of him. His empathy, his understanding, his loss completely shook my resolve. How pathetic am I?

There’s a part of me that feels relieved—relieved that I was able to just let it out. He’s a stranger. I don’t know anything about him aside from the little I’ve seen. Even so, I feel a unique connection with Logan. When he revealed the details of his brother’s death, I felt sympathy for him, but not in the way an outsider might. It was coming from a place of first-hand knowledge, from a place of compassion. I felt his pain, the struggle I imagine he went through¸ and his loss. I’ve lived through it.

There’s another part of me that feels it may have been a mistake—a huge, stupid mistake. I don’t want him to think that because we shared a moment there could be something more between us. Because there can’t be. Of that I’m certain. Logan is probably a good guy. Or maybe he’s not. Either way, he’s a risk I’m not going to take.

I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and sneak back into the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind me. I turn and see Charlie sitting against the headboard of the twin bed. Her shoulders and head are slumped over, but she looks up when she hears me. I smile. She rolls her eyes. “Don’t take out your hangover anger on me,” I say, treading over to her.

“I’m never drinking again.” Sure. That’s a famous line of hers. I hand her the bottle of water. “Thank you,” she mumbles, snatching it from my hand. Charlie unscrews the cap and chugs back the entire bottle. She places the empty bottle on the nightstand beside her and leans her head back against the headboard. “Oh God. I’m going to be sick.”

“I’m pretty sure you threw up all of last week’s meals last night.” I hand her the clean bucket from beside her bed and take a seat across from her on the bed I slept in last night.

Charlie settles the bucket between her legs and stares into it. “Where were you?” she asks as she concentrates on the green container.

“Downstairs. I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you.”

She nods. “I woke up over a half hour ago. I didn’t have the strength to go looking for you. I told myself if you didn’t come back in fifteen minutes, I was going to force myself to search.”

“Ha! I’m sure you would’ve made it,” I tease. “Whenever you get yourself together and ready, we’ll drive back. Take your time.”

She groans. “Do we have to leave? I’m seriously in no mood to take a three-hour drive back home. It’s not like you can take the wheel if I get sick.”

“We’re not staying another night, Charlie.”

“Come on. I’m going to need a day to recuperate. I promise I won’t drink today. I’ll keep it to just soft drinks. Don’t make me drive back home like this.” She pouts her lips and rolls her head back against the wooden headboard.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re making me feel guilty.”

“Do you want to face your mother today?”

“Low blow.” And the brief reprieve I had without thoughts of my mother is now over. “Fine.”

Charlie doesn’t smile at my concession. She just sighs and her shoulders deflate. “Thank God,” she says. Then she sinks into the bed, tossing the covers over her face.

It’s noon. I sat in bed channel surfing on the tiny television until Charlie woke up. I couldn’t leave the room and face Logan alone after what happened this morning. Charlie grumbled out of bed with only the word “food” escaping her mouth. I waited patiently as she showered and put on shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops. Now, we’re finally heading downstairs together.

“There’s my little alcoholic,” Santino sings as Charlie and I step into the kitchen. All of the guys are hanging out in here. Danny, Justin, and Scott are seated by the table, dishing some food onto their plates. Bryson is by the stove, cooking, and Logan is leaning against the counter with his legs and arms crossed. His eyes are on me. Even though I just saw him a few short hours ago, my chest constricts. I look away.

“That’s me,” Charlie responds with her arms raised. She walks over to Santino. He pulls her into his lap and she lets out giggles.

“If you girls are hungry, we have plenty of breakfast.” Bryson points toward the center of the table where there are several plates filled with pancakes, waffles, bacon, and sausages. “Help yourselves.”

“I’m starving!” Charlie turns to face the food, still on Santino’s lap, and grabs herself a plate. She begins filling it.

“Jenna?” Logan says. I look over. He’s pointing at one of the empty chairs for me to take a seat. I shake my head.

“No, thank you.”

Charlie waves her hand. “She barely eats. I could never do it.”

Santino looks over and says, “Are you one of those girls who force themselves not to eat because they want to keep a stick figure image? Because personally, I love me a curvy woman. The more curves, the better.” He grips Charlie’s hips and begins to bounce her. Her laughs fill the room as my irritation spikes.

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