15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Nick

Logan took off toward the water before I had a chance to react, but it didn't take me long to catch up. Being a former quarterback, he was fast, but I was more lithe.

He dove into the water, and I was close behind, jumping on his back and dunking him. But fuck, was he strong. Logan quickly tossed me off him and dunked me back. All his years playing football and getting sacked had paid off.

We were soon grappling, shoving, and splashing each other like we were little kids again, not that Logan and I had ever played like that before.

When he grabbed me again, I didn't think about his smooth, slick skin or how hard his body was at all. Not once. Liar . It felt like a rock, really. In fact, it affected my libido a little bit too much, and I didn't know why. Why now? I needed to shut it right down because it was weird, right?

"Fuck, it's a good thing we're getting exercise because I'm not able to get any tennis in on this trip." Yeah, great conversation starter, Nick. Way to look like a moron.

"Didn't you have a month-long tennis camp already?"

"Well, sure, but if I want to keep playing and stay on the team, I need to practice, but I'll work my ass off once I get to Stanford. More like they'll work my ass off."

We were panting from fucking around in the water, but the air suddenly grew heavy with the awkward silence. Logan's body was submerged in the water up to his mouth, with only his nose and eyes resting above the surface. He was staring out over the horizon as the sun started to go down. Then his hazel-green eyes, which were so light against the sun and sparkling water, pinged to me, looking almost ethereal, with flecks of yellows, browns, and even a hint of red.

"What?" I asked stupidly.

He raised his body enough out of the water to speak. "Can we… ah… practice again?"

"Practice what?" Yes, I was intentionally being obtuse.

He rolled his eyes. "Never mind."

I smirked to hide the nerves tightening inside me. "I'm teasing you, but I think you've got it down, Logan."

He nodded and furrowed his brows as his cheeks pinked. "Oh… yeah. Okay."

Regardless of what I'd said, I was so doing this. If he wanted another kiss, I'd be more than happy to give it to him. And I highly doubted he wanted to do it for more practice. He'd gotten his first real kiss from a guy, so I could understand him wanting more, but that didn't explain why I wanted more, because I was definitely not into guys.

"But… if you feel you need more practice, we can."

Logan scanned the lake and camp, assuming he didn't want anyone to see us since it wasn't dark out yet. I reached for his face, which needed shaving, weirdly liking the scratchy feeling on my palm, and turned him to look at me.

"No one's close by, Logan."

We stood on tippy toes in the muddy, rocky water, our faces so close I could see every tiny freckle on his skin from being out in the sun and every little drop of water clinging to his thick eyelashes. They reminded me of the sweet nectar sticking to the stamen of a honeysuckle flower Caleb and I used to suck on. And there my mind went to sucking other things.

I leaned in first since I had doubts Logan would do it despite him asking. His eyes slid closed before mine did when our lips finally touched.

Although I'd taken the lead, Logan took over from there, sliding a hand to my back and pulling me against him. Fuck . My dick threatened to react already. I probably should've been more concerned, but my mind got lost in Logan's soft yet firm lips and his demanding tongue that slid into my mouth.

Caleb's kiss never made my heart beat like this. It hammered so hard it almost hurt. And the blood pumping in my ears drowned out the water lapping around us while my stomach somersaulted, making me a little queasy, but not necessarily in a bad way.

No, these kisses were nothing like how Caleb and I used to practice. Ours had been more tentative because we weren't really into it with each other. It only served one purpose, and that was to learn how to kiss girls, not guys.

Kissing Logan seemed strangely intimate. I wasn't sure if simply practicing could be intimate or if the intimacy was because we both secretly wanted this.

As much as I wanted the kiss to linger, I needed to pull away before he noticed my stiffy. It happened the last time, too, but I used my drunkenness to lie to myself.

When I gently pulled away, Logan kept his eyes closed, as if imagining we were still kissing before they finally slid open, looking at me with an unreadable expression.

"Feel more comfortable kissing now?" I asked, doing my best to appear casual as my body fought off the arousal.

"Yeah, I do."

"As I said, you're a natural."

His smile was small and a bit shy. "Thanks for your help."

"Of course. Anything to help out my bro," I winked. God, why did it feel like I was overcompensating? "You'll find your guy, and he'll be amazed at how well you kiss." And I just couldn't shut the fuck up.

For the first time, a niggling sense of jealousy spread through me with words like mine, fuck that, and I don't share . A weird sense of possessiveness took over because I'd been Logan's first gay kiss. I wanted to be his first in other things. Was that why I enjoyed it so much? Because I liked being there for him? Or was it more?

God, this was so confusing. I wasn't gay, but I couldn't ignore whatever this was going through me. Then again, maybe I was making this out to be more than it was.

Have you ever had a sex dream about someone who wasn't your girlfriend or boyfriend? When you see them again, you have those reminiscent sexual feelings for them that linger from the dream. Eventually, it goes away, but you can't help but wonder if you're more interested in them than you thought. My bodily response to Logan could be just that.

"I'm hungry. Let's eat," he said, swimming away, leaving me a tad confused about everything, yet longing to hold onto whatever connection we'd just shared.

"Sounds good."

"While this trip has been a blast, I miss Mom's cooking," I said as I ate the last bite of my canned beef stew while listening to one of Logan's mixtapes on the boombox playing softly in the background.

"Yeah, Mia's an awesome cook. When it was just Dad and me, it was TV dinners all the time. Although, I wasn't sure if it was about the fact that he couldn't cook and more to do with not having the energy between grieving and working."

I wasn't quite sure what to say to the spark of vulnerability Logan was giving me, but I needed to say something in return, so he never stopped opening up.

"Mom didn't cook much after my dad left, either. She was distraught for a while… shocked is probably a better word. I hadn't done much better. Eventually, she got it together and found her passions."

"Maybe this is a blunt question, but are you sure he's still alive? I mean, if he left and never reached out, how do you know?"

"Nah, that's a good question. He wrote Mom a letter a few weeks later without a return address, telling her not to look for him. Fucking coward. I don't know what else he said in that letter, and I never want to know."

"I don't blame you."

"What if he told her he left because he couldn't stand having a kid around, you know?"

"I guess some men aren't made for marriage and kids."

"I guess. That's how we're raised, right? Get an education, get a job, find a wife, have babies, and then you die."

"Yeah, but I've always wanted that."

It must've been hard to want something you couldn't have.

Logan opened up the cooler and pulled out a couple of cans of beer, tossing one to me. I caught it, popped the tab, and took a long sip.

"Did you ever blame yourself?" he asked.

I looked at Logan, who seemed like an entirely different person from before this trip and huffed an ironic laugh. "Yeah, I did. My young brain thought I'd done something wrong. How'd you know?"

"I ask because I did the same." He took a long pull from his can. "Mom got into that accident on her way to pick me up from school. I'd gotten in trouble and had detention, so I missed the bus."

Shit, I could just imagine the amount of guilt he must have carried despite it not being his fault.

"It was the fault of the asshole who hit her and ran. Not yours."

Logan sat there in the small fold-out lawn chair we'd brought with his legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, staring out at the evening lake. He tipped back his beer again and chugged the rest of it back. After wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked over at me, his face glowing next to the fire.

"Well, the asshole wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been such a shit that day."

Who was I to tell Logan how to feel? It still wasn't his fault. He'd only been twelve and couldn't predict the future, but I understood his guilt.

"I'm not going to tell you not to feel guilty, Logan, but you had no way of knowing. That's impossible. If we could see into the future, we'd understand every action we make is about cause and effect, making us completely different humans. Maybe we'd freeze up, never to come out of our homes in fear of loss."

"Maybe."

We sat in silence for a long time, mulling over our stories. At least I was. But the silence wasn't too uncomfortable. The crickets were at full blast, along with the frogs, and the breeze picked up through the trees, playing a relaxing melody. The fireflies danced with their light, making the world sparkle. There were no sounds of people or cars. Only the occasional plane overhead.

After we had a few more beers in us, I glanced over at him with new questions filling my head.

One thing I'd learned in the short period while traveling with Logan was that he loosened up when he'd had a few beers. If I asked him a question, he was more likely to answer it, so I took this opportunity to dig a little deeper into why Logan treated me like shit for so long. It had to be more than the ‘wicked stepbrother syndrome. '

"Can I ask you something, and you won't get upset?"

"Ugh, the last time you did that to me, I freaked out and ended up baring my soul to you, along with my deepest secret, man."

His tone didn't seem all that upset or annoyed. It was more like resignation, so I pressed on. "Aren't you glad you did? Now you see how cool I am."

He snorted a laugh. "I'm going to need another beer for this. Fine, what are you dying to know now, freakin' busybody?"

"Did you really hate me simply because your dad married my mom when you weren't ready? And… do you really believe we aren't brothers?"

"Fuck, man. Has anyone ever told you how heavy your questions are?"

"Because you're a heavy person, Logan. You're a lot more complex than I gave you credit for."

Logan sat there so long, staring out at the water without saying a word, that I worried he wouldn't answer me. Was he being so silent because I wouldn't like what he had to say? Whatever it was, I was prepared. I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know.

"Yes. At first, I was angry at the marriage. I didn't want a brother, and I didn't fucking want a new mother. I felt like because Dad married your mom, I'd have to forget my mom, and I hadn't been ready to move on. It wasn't easy, Nick. I was a fucking mess. Remember, it wasn't just her death, but my guilt."

"I can totally understand that."

I finished off my beer and grabbed another. He was right. This would call for more drinking.

"Then your mom was so damn nice, making it hard to hate her. But you? You were… Fuck."

"An easy target?"

He looked at me with eyes filled with guilt, but he didn't need to feel that way. I was really starting to understand him. "Yeah, exactly."

"I get it, but… why for so long?"

He leaned his head against the back of the lawn chair and stared up at the sky. "Fuck… so… You're not going to like this. It's not something I'm keen on telling you…"

Logan leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs, and bent over to run his fingers through his hair. My body tensed because I couldn't for the life of me figure out what'd had him hating me for so long beyond his initial anger about the marriage.

His hands ran down his face, and he left them there for a moment before grabbing his smokes and lighting up. He took a drag and exhaled the smoke. "I… don't hate you. I hated the idea of… fuck… of wanting you. I used this anger that I initially had with you to keep… ugh…"

What?

Logan abruptly stood and walked toward the edge of the lake, bent down to grab something before tossing it in the water. There was a loud ‘ plunk ' in the water a second later.

Did he mean he had a crush on me this whole time?

My stomach dropped like it had on that roller coaster the other day, and I found it hard to breathe.

He wanted me?

I couldn't begin to explain the amount of relief and fear that went through me. The emotions swirled around like a tornado in my mind, and I didn't know where they'd land.

Why was I afraid? Was it a weird attraction toward Logan or something else?

I sat frozen in my chair, my beer untouched, unsure of what to do or say. Logan had told me two huge confessions in a few short days. That had to be terrifying for him, but I didn't know how to handle it, either. Him admitting he was gay was one thing. His hating me because he liked me was a bit weird, yet it also made perfect sense for someone who constantly battled his very being.

Shit, what do I do? What do I say?