I tried to muster up the courage to go over and speak to her, hoping that her boyfriend would let me. I didn't know what I'd say. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Maybe she didn't even care that I was here.

I cursed under my breath, opened the door, and stepped out. But before I had a chance to make up my mind, fate had decided for me.

Her eyes went wide when she saw me. "Logan," she breathed out.

My stomach flipped. "Hey . . ." My voice cracked. Fuck, I was nervous. I cleared my throat. "Hey," I tried again.

She stood with her back against the hallway wall, waiting to use the bathroom. I kept my eyes focused on her face; I didn't want to see the rest of her. I didn't think I could handle it.

A bunch of girls tried to get past. I moved forward so they could get through, causing my body to push against hers. "Sorry," I told her.

"It's fine." She said it so quietly I almost didn't hear her. Then she cleared her throat and stood straighter. She pointed her water bottle towards the bathroom door. "My turn," she informed.

"Oh. Yeah, of course." I stepped back and let her out. This was it. This was our goodbye. She pushed off the wall and walked around me. My eyes focused on where she'd just been.

"Logan?" I felt her hand on my arm. My eyes shut tight, not wanting to remember what her touch did to me. "Logan?" she repeated.

"Mm."

She gripped my arm tighter and turned me to face her. She bit her lip, her eyes unsure. "Will you wait for me?"

I nodded, my tongue too heavy, my mouth too dry to speak. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. Only then did I let my body relax, my muscles aching from the tension.

Amanda

"Get it together," I told myself in the mirror. I splashed water on my face and neck and filled my bottle of water. Why did I ask him to wait for me? Oh God, this is going to be so awkward. He's going to be outside, thinking I'm going to say or do something phenomenal, and I don't even know what the hell I'm doing.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, he was there, leaning his shoulder against the wall with his ankles crossed. His hands were in his pockets, causing his arm and shoulder muscles to flex. I didn't take him in; I didn't want to remember how his body made me feel.

I cleared my throat.

His green eyes lifted to mine.

He stood to full height.

I froze.

Thump. Thump.

I opened my mouth to apologize, and to let him get on with the rest of his night, but he spoke first, "You want to get out of here?" he asked. His eyes on mine were so intense, so full of promise. Then he shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm a dick. You're here with your boyfriend." He kept shaking his head from side to side. He took a step backward, his hands going up.

I watched him, confused, but then it hit me. "Oh!" I rushed out. "He's not—I mean—Tony—he's not my boyfriend."

"It's okay," he talked over me. "You don't need to explain."

He took another step back and bumped into someone, who pushed him forward and into me. I tried to help steady him. "Sorry," he said. I noticed his hands clenched at his sides.

Once he was on his feet again, he blew out a breath. "You don't need to tell me anything, just—"

"I'll just tell him that I'm leaving, okay?"

He shook his head again. "It's fine . . . you don't need—"

"Just wait out front for me?"

He nodded, then turned and headed for the front door.

I watched him. And finally, I let my body relax.

***

I walked out the front door and looked around for him. He was leaning against a car, one knee bent with his foot on the wheel. His head was down, looking at his hand. He shook it a couple of times, and then went back to examining it.

Weird.

I strolled over to him; he must not have heard me coming, because his eyes never lifted. I kicked his shoe with mine, and his gaze moved from his hand, to my shoe, up my legs, higher, over my body and finally, after what felt like a lifetime, my face. His eyes shut tight as he looked away from me.

"Are you okay?" He was acting strange, or maybe this was normal for him now. Who knows? It's been a year. He pulled a can of beer from both pockets of his sweater and silently offered one to me. I shook my head, declining.

"Walk?" he asked, kicking off the car and replacing one can back in his pocket. He pulled the tab off the beer, placed it to his mouth, tilted his head back and chugged. After his Adam's apple bobbed for the fourth time, his eyes shifted to mine. Pulling the can away, he straightened up, but his gaze remained on me. He licked his lips. I unconsciously did the same. He cursed under his breath and took a step towards me. Panic kicked in, but he just walked past me and started leading me away from the house. I followed, crossing my arms over my chest and hiding my hands under my armpits. I needed to hide my wrists. He couldn't see them.

Logan

She'd gotten even hotter, if at all possible. Her heels just helped show off her legs. Her goddamn legs. She didn't wear heels that often when we were together, but when she did, it drove me crazy. I wonder if I’d ever told her that. I should have told her a lot of things, and more often.

Like the fact that I loved her.

Or the fact that I still love her.

I stopped walking, turned to face her, and waited for her to catch up. "Sorry," I told her. "I shouldn't have turned my back on you." I watched as her steps faltered.