7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Mark

L ogan seems more energetic than usual. It's a change I don't think most people would notice. Not from him, anyway. Nine times out of ten, he's bursting with more energy than an army of toddlers on caffeine, but there's something different about this energy. It seems like it's too much, like he's trying to overcompensate for something. But what would he need to overcompensate for?

I consider the possibility that he's upset because I wanted to cancel our yearly Halloween plans. That's probably absurd and jumping to conclusions, but it is strange that this behavior started right around the same time I went out with Brandon.

I prop my feet up on the edge of the coffee table, my socks tangling in the lacey spiderweb tablecloth that Logan's thrown over it. "Question," I say.

He sits on the sofa beside me and holds the TV remote straight out, flipping through channels to find his beloved reality cooking show. "Answer," is his reply.

"Are you mad at me?"

A pause. "Uh, why would I be mad at you? Did you cook something nasty in the kitchen again?"

"That was once ."

To the five-billion times Logan turned all the laundry different colors, I suppose I could at least have cooked one ill-prepared meal.

"And that stink took days to get out," he points out.

"And I'm sure that you just couldn't hire a cleaning crew to clear that up," I say.

And if I'm not mistaken, I'm fairly sure Logan was the reason I got distracted making that meal anyway.

"That's not the point."

"And that isn't the point of my question. You're acting weird. Is it because I asked to cancel our annual Halloween outing? Because if it is, you realize that you can tell me, right? I can go on a date with Brandon another day. I already told him that we might have plans anyway."

"Don't be absurd," he says. "You're an adult. I'm an adult. You should be able to do what you want."

That's still not a straight answer.

"I'll move the date with Brandon."

"Moving the date won't change anything," Logan says, his eyes fixed firmly on the TV.

I stare at him and try to figure out what he means. If moving the date won't help, he's not mad about Halloween. What can he possibly be upset about, though? That's literally the only thing going on in my life right now.

"Then, you admit there's something wrong, and it has something to do with me," I say. "What is it?"

Slowly, Logan lowers the remote and turns to look at me. Now, all his energy looks drained. He looks nervous, and I legitimately can't remember an instance when Logan has ever been nervous. That worries me more than anything.

"What is it?" I repeat. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I know that. The problem is that I'm not sure how you might receive what I want to tell you," Logan says, "And the timing is so bad."

My mind immediately assumes the worst. He's throwing me out or moving away. He's been diagnosed with some incurable disease. He's going to jail for insurance fraud. I have no idea what this means.

"Whatever it is, if you tell me, I can help you figure it out," I say. "Come on. It's clearly bothering you, so just let it out."

"I hate Brandon's guts."

What? I laugh, more from nerves than anything else, but when Logan looks at me, his eyes hot and dark, I realize he's serious. I freeze, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest, as the revelation sinks in. I grapple with the realization.

"Why would you hate Brandon? He's a great guy," I reply.

Logan takes a deep breath. "Because I love you," he says, "And you like him . And I'm so jealous that I can't take it."

Of fucking course. I roll my eyes. "That's hilarious," I say. "Very funny."

"No, I'm being serious," Logan says. "I love you. I…really…love…you. And I'm jealous of fucking Brandon, okay?"

Logan loves me!

The words circle through my head and whirl around, but they don't seem to gain any grasp. I've heard the words. I know the words. Somehow, though, I don't understand them when he says them. They've become something else, and I don't know what to do. Or what to say.

"How long?" I finally asked.

Logan shrugs and toys with the remote in his hand. "I don't know. A while. I haven't exactly kept track of the days or anything like that. I thought about telling you, but I just... how do you feel about this?"

I am screaming internally, but I don't even know why. Mostly, I've settled into some strange place between numbness and shock. "We're still friends," I finally say. "I just... I don't know. I just met Brandon again, and he's really great. And—"

"And I don't blame you if you like him," Logan says, tossing the remote onto the table. "Brandon seems like a decent guy. He's certainly good enough for you, and there's not many men I'd say that about."

I'm overwhelmed with a surge of fondness. I nudge my shoulder against Logan's. "Thank you," I say.

"Yeah, well. It's not me being that great," Logan replies. "It's not your fault—or Brandon's fault—that I've had a crush on you for a while."

No, but it can't be easy to deal with.

And the strange thing is that the almost numb feeling is fading, and it's being replaced with something else. It dawns on me all at once that I have no idea how to take Logan's declaration of love. " I love you" keeps swirling around my head, and no matter how hard I try to think about it, I simply can't figure out how I feel; much less how I feel about Brandon, or what to do about him.

In the days following his love confession, Logan seemed to fall back into his usual self; energetic, but not the same familiar nervous energy. I keep conversations and dates with Brandon to an absolute minimum, and Logan and I carefully avoid discussing who loves whom. Once or twice, I catch Logan looking thoughtfully at me, and I wonder if he wants to discuss how his admission changes things between us. He probably does. I think I would want to.

Two weeks before the gala, I walk along the sidewalk and down to Brandon's favorite coffeehouse. I should be working on my thesis, but Brandon called. Trust me, answering Brandon's invitation to come out is far more exciting than staring at the same paper I've been staring at now for the last semester.

Brandon, already with our drinks, sits in our usual spot. "Hey," he says, as I take the seat next to him.

I think of Logan.

"Hey," I say. "How's your day going?"

"Much the same," Brandon replies. "There's not much variety in my life these days. I'm thinking I need to take up a hobby. Or maybe I could tour the world a bit. That's always fun."

Tour the world . Tour the world ?

I can't imagine saying it so flippantly. I don't have the money to visit another state , much less the world.

"It sounds like fun," I say. "Is that something you do often?"

"Every now and then," Brandon replies, grinning. "Hey, you should join me!"

I laugh and shake my head. I like Brandon, but I haven't known him all that long. And I don't think I'd feel comfortable mooching a world trip with anyone anyway. Maybe Logan. But that's only because I've known him forever. And even that's still a big maybe under the current circumstances.

I bite my lower lip.

How long has Logan loved me? It can't have been too long, right? I would have surely noticed if he'd had a crush on me for any amount time. It's not like he's subtle. He can't keep a secret to save his life.

"I don't know about that," I reply ambivalently. "Besides, I don't even know what I'm going to do next with my life. Sure, I know I want to pursue a doctorate, but I haven't gotten any acceptance letters yet. I may wind up going freelance."

"Ah, more school," Brandon says, shaking his head.

"Hey, if I'm going to put myself thousands of dollars in student loan debt…"

"Thousands of dollars, huh?"

"Oh, yeah," I reply. "My loan provider sends me letters every semester reminding me how much I owe."

"But you aren't—like—a lot in debt, are you?" Brandon asks.

I don't know quite what to make of that. Brandon doesn't sound angry or upset, but there's an odd catch in his tone.

"I think I'm at about sixty-five-thousand," I reply. "That's not too bad for someone who has almost finished two degrees. I know people who have that much debt and only one degree."

"But it's a lot for someone like you," Brandon says.

"Sure."

There's an awkward pause.

"Hey, I need to tell you something. In fact, I should have told you for a while now, but I'm telling you now," I say.

"What's going on? You sound serious."

There really is no way for me to say this. "Logan told me he loves me."

There's another awkward pause. Brandon stares at me.

"I see," he finally says, "And how do you feel about him?"

"I don't know. We've been ‘just friends' for a long time. He's probably used to being around me. I really like you a lot. I've had so much fun going out with you these past few weeks. I really would like to see where this could go," I rationalize. "And I'm really looking forward to the Halloween gala with you."

"Good. Me too. I really like you a lot, too." Brandon mentions without missing a beat, "As long as you're sure you don't feel the same way about him. Mark, I know it's only been a short while, but I feel a connection with you. My day brightens when I see you." He grabs my hand, smiling. I blush.

"You brighten my day too, Brandon," I pathetically reply, trying to come up with a way to steer us to a different topic, besides the weather. I haven't had much experience revealing such strong emotions. "And one more thing about my student loans. At least the doctorate program will go toward art. No chemistry," I chuckle, grasping for an opportunity to change the subject.

I really don't like talking about my student loans. As far as I'm concerned, they're the bane of my existence, but if I can get off the topic of Logan, I'll take it right now.

Brandon nods while wrinkling his nose. "Right. Or any of those required literature classes. Ugh."

I arch an eyebrow. "Did you really think it was that bad?"

"Worse," Brandon insists. "I still have nightmares about The Canterbury Tales ."

Off the top of my head, I can't think of anything particularly terrifying about The Canterbury Tales , but I'll take his word for it.

"You really should see the world at least once, though," Brandon says, "As an art major, you'd love it. There's so much in the world to see: the Parthenon in Greece, medieval churches in Paris, the stave-churches in Trondheim…"

"I know. I've taken a couple of art history classes in my day."

"I suppose you have. You might even know more about it than me," Brandon muses. "All the more reason to go."

I'm sure I do, but I don't say so. I shake my head.

"You know—I'll be going to NYC come December. I think I'll stay there for a while. There are great schools up there, too, if you want to try…us," Brandon says with such a sweet smile.

Oh. It's a generous offer; beyond generous. And I'm caught off-guard. Go to New York City and live with him? It sounds exciting. A new place, a fresh start. I have nothing that I would want to hide or forget here, but the thought of starting somewhere new with a blank canvas is exhilarating.

"I wouldn't want to upset Logan, though," I reply, as I mull over the offer.

"He's not a cat, Mark. Logan can live on his own."

Yeah, true that.

As Brandon gets up, he leans over and touches my chin. His lips passionately touch mine. Shivers of electricity run up and down my body.

"I can't wait to see you at the gala," Brandon whispers in my ear. And with that, he departs.