Losing Logan

Eight

Somehow Bruno manages to get to the park before me. Probably due to the fact that the drive through worker at the SandWitch was a total moron who couldn’t get my order straight until I finally wrote it out for him. It also didn’t help that Logan was in my ear the whole time telling me over and over that Bruno doesn’t like onions or tomatoes.

Finally I’d just yelled, “I know. No freaking onions or tomatoes.”

The cashier was appalled and a curt, “Yes, I heard you ma’am,” crackled through the ancient speaker. I proceeded to slam my head into the steering wheel until my food was ready.

Now, as I pull to a stop beside Bruno’s truck, I look at Logan sternly.

“You can’t keep talking in my ear like that. It’s too distracting.”

He raises an eyebrow.

I point, “I mean it Logan, either stay here or stay quiet.”

He makes a lip zipping gesture and I climb out of the car, bag of food in one hand, drink carrier in the other.

Bruno is sitting at a picnic bench, staring at his phone.

“Hey,” I call and he looks up, relief flooding his face. He jumps to his feet and rushes over, taking the drinks for me.

“Hey,” he says as we walk back to his bench with Logan lagging behind.

Opening the bag I pull out his sandwich and dill pickle potato chips.

“Oh yum. I’m starving.”

He unwraps the sandwich and spreads the bread, looking for the innards.

“No tomatoes, no onions, right?” I offer and he grins.

“How did you know?” he asks, reassembling his sandwich and taking a bite.

Oh shit.

I try to play it off with a shrug. Just when I’m afraid he’s not going to drop it he smiles at me and I feel the tension leaving my body.

“Fine. Be mysterious,” he jokes and takes another bite.

I dig in to my own sandwich, not realizing how hungry I am until I’ve devoured half the sub in five seconds flat.

“So how was your meeting?” he asks, taking a drink.

I swallow and set my sandwich down.

“Good. Productive.” I grin and take a sip, “I didn’t even fight with Leena today.”

He chuckles, “So, are you applying for sainthood?”

I nod, “I’m considering a run. We just scheduled the stuff for Homecoming so I can turn it over to the Dance Committee.”

He stares at me blankly so I continue.

“We decided on a Venetian masquerade. Very 007, you know. Suave.”

“Sounds cool.”

“I hope so. The Dance Committee are the ones who really make it happen, all the decorations and stuff. I go in to help sometimes, just with the setup. It’s fun to see it all come together.”

“So are you going?”

I pause mid sandwich pickup. “To the dance?”

He laughs lightly. “No, to the moon. Yes, to the dance.”

I shrug, “I dunno. Probably not. I usually don’t.”

He balls up his wrapper and dusts the crumbs off the table. “Why not?”

I don’t look up when I answer. It’s so pathetic I can’t even meet his eyes.

“I guess…no one’s ever asked me.”

“Seriously?”

Great. Now I feel like a total loser. And it’s not entirely true, Carlos asked me to be his date last year, but it was a pity ask, and I felt like going with him was no better than taking your cousin to prom, so I declined. I feel the flush rising into my face and I have to physically swallow back the smart ass quip fighting its way out my throat.

I hear Bruno laughing dryly so I dip my head lower.

“Freaking Logan.”

“What did you say?” he asks, making my face snap up.

I tilt my head. “I said, ‘This is all Logan’s fault.’”

“How so?” He looks genuinely confused and I want nothing more than to crawl under a rock somewhere and die. I knew this was a stupid plan and now I’m going to throw Logan under the bus—remorse free.

“It’s just that, Logan mentioned that you asked for my phone number once. I never thought much of it since you didn’t call, but I saw you today and I thought…Never mind. It’s stupid.”

He reaches out, covering my hands with his. It’s an alien sensation, the physical contact with someone not Mom or Carlos.

“Hey. I did call. Like a dozen times.” He takes a deep breath, “But I just kept hanging up.”

“Why?”

“Because I was never quite sure what to say to you. You were always so uninterested. I only asked you out today because you seemed so…different. Relaxed.”

I nod. He didn’t call because he thinks I’m a total ball-buster. Or at least he did.

“But if I’d known you even wanted to go to those dances, I would have asked you to every single one.”

I shake my head in disbelief.

“No really. Just like I’m asking you now. Zoe, will you go to Homecoming with me?”

I suck in a breath. This is happening a lot quicker than I expected.

I narrow my eyes, “You aren’t just asking because you feel sorry for me, right?”

He laughs again and it’s a deep belly laugh. “Zoe, I promise you, I do not feel sorry for you. If I did you’d probably kick me in the junk.”

That’s probably true. I grin. “Sure. I’d really like to go to the dance with you.”

Now it’s his turn to smile. “It’s a date.”

Out the corner of my eye I see Logan head back to the car with a snort.