A little snoop of my first person Breakaway which has stolen my heart...Finn watching Lo look around his childhood room when Finn brings him home for Thanksgiving his first year... <3 happy fall everyone!!
He goes over to my dresser and mirrorāglances at himselfāand looks at the photographs there. Lots of Alex and me. Picks up one and holds it before showing me.
āSasha,ā I say, looking at her and my own grinning faces pressed close to the camera. āHigh school girlfriend. Two years. Weāre still good friends. Sheās at Brown.ā
āAnyone in high school?ā I ask, leaning back on my elbows on the bed. āFor you? I never asked.ā
He goes a little tense, I think, and I almost change the topic butā āNothing, likeā¦I mean, it was so much hockey. All boys at my school. And the parties, the girls school comes, alcohol, running off, and we were all sort ofā¦ā Big sigh. āI donāt know the word.ā
He sets the frame of Sasha and I down andāweird kidāopens my top dresser drawer. Itās kind of mindless, like heās more busy thinking, but he stares at my socks and folded underwear.
āJust sex. Making out. Kind ofā¦ā He moves his head in a rushed motion.
āFrantic,ā I guess. āGot a time limit.ā
Shuts the drawer. āYeah.ā
The little model of the planets that I made in seventh grade is his next target. He touches the fragile rings on the small Saturn, then looks over his shoulder at me.
See, this is what I am always trying to tell people. Logan is not quiet. Heās justāheās not always comfortable. This is comfortable Logan. Intense. Curious. This is one of the first times Iām really seeing it. Doesnāt occur to me until much later that it was because it was just us, away from school. Iād learn that lesson nice and quick.
āSame,ā I say. "The stars.ā
āHow do you say it in French?ā
āLes Ć©toiles dans lāespace.ā
He laughs and picks up my copy of Moby-Dick. Pretends to lift it like a weight. āUne Ć©toile. Star. Un espace. Space. The stars in space. Les Ć©toiles dans lāespace.ā
āUneā¦I donāt think my tongueās going to do that.ā
āNon, I donāt think so.ā Touches my curtains, the medals I have from hockey camps dating back to when I was six. Looks out my window, down at the street. āThanks for having me.ā He turns again, and heās holding one of the little cars I have on my window sill. It looks so, so small in his strong hands. Tight smile. āReally didnāt know what to do.ā
āI already told you, Tremz, of course.ā Spread my arms. āSorry you gotta sleep with me.ā
He laughs. āWhatever.ā
Logan showers, like he always does. Leaves puddles all over the floor, like he always does. Something about being home makes me forget, though, and I soak my socks.
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