“I’m sure he did.”
I shrugged. When Tim did show me attention, it made me feel really special, partly because I knew how rare it was. But looking back, there were a lot of holes in our relationship. We didn’t have deep conversations — sometimes I tried to talk about my favorite books or what I was learning in lectures, but he always looked bored. He never asked me about my family or childhood and constantly forgot the names of my sisters. When I tried to talk to him — likereallytalk to him, tried to figure out how his brain worked — he just looked fidgety. We went to parties and we went on dates and we made out and fooled around. It had been…fun. But not exactly meaningful.
“You want dessert? I think I’ve got ice-cream in the freezer,” Logan said, tearing me from my thoughts. He stood up, clearing the pizza box.
I shook my head. “I’ve had enough unhealthy food for a day. I’m meant to be on a diet.”
“Are you kidding? You literally look like a supermodel,” Logan said, then froze. “Fuck. Sorry I — I shouldn’t have said that. It was inappropriate.”
I felt my cheeks go hot, and hopes they weren’t too red. “No, that’s okay. It’s…it’s nice of you to say.” I looked down at my lap. “Tim told me I could stand to lose a few pounds.”
His comment had hurt at the time, but I’d taken the feedback on. I wanted to be pretty for my boyfriend. Now I just felt a new wave of anger.
“My son’s a fucking idiot,” Logan said. He shoved the pizza box into the trash, and walked over to the freezer. “You sure you don’t want ice-cream? It’s strawberry flavored.”
“Well…I do like strawberry,” I admitted.
He grinned at me — wow, he had a really nice smile — and took out the tub. As he scooped the ice-cream into two bowls, he said, “let me know if you want to take this upstairs. I get it if you want some space.”
I shook my head. “No, I like having company. Better than wallowing by myself, right?”
“You wanna head to the sofa then? We could watch a movie.”
Two minutes later we were seated in front of the TV. I let Logan choose a movie. He suggested a Jane Austen adaptation, probably for my benefit, and while I loved Austen’s stories, I couldn’t stomach anything overly romantic.
“You choose,” I told him.
So he put on an adaptation ofGreat Expectations. I tucked my feet underneath me, and the movie seemed to flash by in a past. The ice-cream was delicious too — it didn’t taste fake or artificial, but like it had been freshly made with cream and ripe, sweet strawberries.
“That was good,” I said as the movie credits rolled. “Are you a fan of the book?”
He nodded. “Read the book when I was a kid and it’s been one of my favorites since. When I was young, I related to Pip, the way he wants to improve himself and his situation, you know? I never thought I’d have a house like this.” He gestured at theroom. “But ultimately, the story’s not about money or social position. It’s about having a moral character.” He shrugged. “I know it’s a simple message, but I appreciate it.”
“A lot of people would probably find the message quaint. Or silly. Everyone’s out here trying to make the most money they can,” I pointed out.
“I get wanting to be financially stable. Especially when you’re young, or when you have a kid to look after. But nowadays…I enjoy the small things. It’s cliche, but all that matters is being happy.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You might think I’m overly sentimental.”
“No,” I said quickly. “Not at all. Actually…so I have two sisters. They’re really smart. One’s graduated and she’s got this really amazing corporate job, and the other’s studying economics. Useful, right? But I chose English Lit. Some people have said to me, why would you do that, you can’t get a good job with that. But it’s what I’m passionate about. If I chose something else, deep down I’d keep thinking about studying literature instead. So maybe I won’t be a CEO or work in a bank, but I’m happy right now and that’s what I think matters.” I blushed, suddenly realizing how much I’d blurted out. “Um. Yeah.”
But Logan leaned over, eyes on me like he didn’t think I was silly or boring, but genuinely fascinating. “I think that’s amazing,” he murmured. “Don’t let anyone make you feel bad. The humanities are important.” He paused. “Do you want to become a professor?”
I looked at my lap. “I’d like to,” I said. “I know it’ll be hard though.”
This was the first time I’d admitted it to anybody. Part of me expected Logan to laugh in my face. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t.
“You can do it,” he said, voice full of confidence and conviction.
I met his gaze, skin still warm, but not from embarrassment. I’d only met him today, and yet I’d blurted out stuff I’d never told anyone. But somehow, I felt safe talking to him. Maybe it’s because we had interests in common. Or maybe it’s because he’d been so kind to me when I’d had the worst day.
Logan looked back at me. His gaze flickered to my mouth, but it happened so quickly, I might’ve imagined it. Then he suddenly stood up, turning the TV off. “It’s getting late. I’ll let you head to bed.” He hesitated. “My bedroom’s just down the hallway. If you need anything, come and wake me up. Otherwise…have a good night.”
Right. Of course. We couldn’t stay on the couch all night, talking. I had to let him sleep. “Thank you, Logan,” I said. “Good night.”
I walked upstairs, trying to ignore the pit of dread in my stomach. I wished I could have watched another film with him. Anything to distract me from my thoughts.
I got ready for bed, turned off the lights, and crawled into the sheets, waiting for sleep to take me away.
Five minutes passed. I rolled over to my other side.
