Chapter 12
“That was a lot,” I said as I caught up with Logan after using the restroom once Grief Inc. had concluded.
He nodded, looking as wrung out as I felt. And he’d had a couple hours of intense skating while I’d been sitting at the library studying before our group met.
“We don’t have to hang out, if you’re tired,” I said, giving him an out.
“I’m tired, but… do you just want to go to my house and order some food?”
That sounded great, and I said so. We started walking toward the side of campus where we both lived, digesting the emotions we’d just gone through in group.
I’d half expected Jane and Stick to come roaring up in his Charger (on his white charger? ha!), but there was no sign of them, or any distraction they might bring from the heavy subject at hand.
“I’ve heard of the stages of grief before. I could probably have come up with most of them if I had to. I just never had to, I don’t know, apply them to myself before,” Logan said.
“Right. Obviously I heard a lot about the Kübler-Ross stages in the past year. But talking about them with others who are maybe in different stages and what that looks like?”
I didn’t finish. We both sighed and nodded.
“And Marlo’s point about not always having a linear route through the stages?” I continued. “And that there will be overlapping and regression? Like, I know I’m still in denial, but there’s sure a shit-ton of anger in there too.”
I thought back to a year ago and how I’d kept waiting for my mom to walk in the door of our house once I came home from school.
For her funeral.
“I think denial to anger is an easy one to recognize because, at least for me, it was coming out of denial that caused the anger. Like, ‘Oh, I have to actually deal with this now?’”
“Fuck, this all sucks. How long did it take you to get to acceptance?” he asked.
I snorted and made a show of crossing my fingers. “Any day now.”
“Shit. Sorry. I suppose there’s no barometer measuring when we get there.”
“If there is, I haven’t found how to read it yet.”
He reached for my hand and clasped it. The feeling was foreign to me, like I’d never held hands with a boy before. But also familiar, like Logan and I held hands all the time, and of course we didn’t. Only briefly two nights ago in my room while sitting on my bed.
We talked a bit about the other kids in group and whether we personally agreed with the stages they felt they were in when we were asked to give our self-assessments.
I had said I felt out of depression, but not quite at acceptance yet.
Logan said denial, since it was so fresh, as did a couple of others in the group.
There was anger, of course. Bargaining seemed hard to quantify, but there were nodding heads when Marlo gave some examples that rang true.
It was fascinating. But raw. Very, very raw.
We got to the edge of campus and crossed Sturgess to the residential area and the house where Logan lived.
As we walked up the uneven porch steps of his house, he said, “Looks like there are guys watching TV downstairs. Okay with you if I just do a quick intro and then we head up to my room? I don’t really feel like… ”
“That’s fine. You don’t even have to stop to introduce me if you’d rather just go right up the stairs.”
He scoffed at that. “Of course I’ll introduce you. Or say hi if it’s the people you might have met when you were here that first Friday. My brother died, not my manners.”
I laughed. “Cute. Bring your dead brother into it. Way to keep it classy.”
“Truth is, he would have loved me joking like that.”
I gave his hand a squeeze, then dropped it as he reached for the door handle. He opened it, then stood to the side to let me enter first. “Manners, indeed,” I said quietly as I walked past him.
“You know it,” he said.
As soon as he let go of the door, he took my hand again, which surprised me.
It was one thing to do it out of commiseration and compassion during a private walk home in the dusky light, another thing entirely to do it in front of your roommates.
The ones who knew you’d had a different girl in your room…
nightly? Was it nightly for Logan? Weekly?
How often did he fit in the willing Cheses on campus?
None of my concern. Because I won’t be one of them.
And yet I was planning on going to Logan’s room with him and picking up where we’d left off on Monday night in my room.
But I won’t be pining for him after, like Ches.
I will not chase.
Yeah, it felt like moving the goalposts a little bit. I pushed that thought aside.
We walked through the foyer and to the opening of the living room.
A bunch of people were all watching something on the enormous TV.
Philly and Dex were sitting on one of the couches, his arm around her and her sunk deep into his side.
A white-blond Viking, as statuesque as Logan, but with completely different coloring, was sprawled on another couch, his long legs hanging over one of the arms. And another player, whom I remembered seeing that Friday night, but didn’t meet, was in a recliner that was in the farthest position back—so low, he had to tuck his chin into his chest to see us as we entered the room.
“Hey, Straw, how ya doing? We’ve got a good one going,” he said as he pointed to the screen.
Logan looked around at them all and at the TV. His hand clenched in mine and then dropped it.
Which stung a bit, I had to admit. But I’d been surprised he’d taken it in the first place once we entered the house, so I guessed I shouldn’t have been shocked that he’d dropped it when he saw how many of his roommates were taking in his being with me.
“Hey, I know you. From the first Friday party,” Philly said. Dex looked more carefully at me, then to Logan, catching the dropped hand, and his eyes narrowed on me. “Chloe, right?” Philly said.
From the glint of humor in her eyes, I gleaned she knew I was not my roommate at all and was just messing with me. “Pittsburgh, right?” I countered.
She smiled. “Good to see you again, Megan.”
“You too, Philly. Dex.”
He only nodded, his eyes back on the TV, and Philly continued.
“I know that Chloe is your friend, not you. In fact, I looked her up when she tagged Straw eating pizza and the guys were giving him shit. I’m not surprised she’s got such a presence. She gives off very Main Character energy.”
“That she does,” I said. “And the rest of us in the suite are just the supporting cast. In fact, more of a cameo role, sometimes.”
She laughed. “I like this one, Straw.”
Logan seemed frozen (he really must have totally bypassed intros of the other girls, manners be damned), so Philly jumped in, pointing first at the Viking and then the lounger. “That’s Veeti Lakonen and Gabriel Faxon. They live here too.”
“Veeti? Is that another nickname?”
“No. That’s my name. I’m Finnish,” Veeti said. So Viking wasn’t far off. One country over. But no accent. “But raised here, mostly.”
“Got it. Gabriel,” I said to the guy who had brought the recliner up a bit to make better eye contact.
“Gabe,” he said.
“Gabe. Hey.”
“Hey, Megan,” he said, bringing his chair all the way up now.
He kind of singsonged my name, like he needed to add emphasis to it, though I didn’t know why.
“Pause it, Dex,” he said, prompting Dex to dig a remote from the couch by his hip and pause the movie.
“So, Megan, you were at that party? I don’t remember meeting you.
And I don’t think I’d forget that hair.”
I snuck a glance at Logan, trying to see his reaction to Gabe’s words. Was he flirting? Or dissing my mass of curls? Based on elementary school teasing, either could be true, and I figured Logan’s take would give me a clue.
But he didn’t say anything. Didn’t seem to comprehend Gabe’s words at all. He just stared at the TV’s frozen screen, checked out.
“We didn’t meet that night,” I said. “I wasn’t here that long. And I had straightened my hair.”
Gabe’s gaze flashed quickly from my hair, to where Logan’s hand was not at all touching mine (he must have clocked the hand drop), to Logan’s face, then back to mine, but with more curiosity now.
“You must be a freshman, Megan?” he asked.
“I deferred a year, but yes,” I said. I’d taken to using the “deferred” line in the past week when asked what year I was. I’d probably drop that as well in the coming days as I became more comfortable with the fact that I was indeed a freshman, and nobody cared why.
“Yeah. What’d you do, Straw, set up a table at freshman orientation?”
“What?” Logan said, his attention finally back on the situation at hand. Mainly the awkwardness of his introducing a girl to his housemates.
Boy, he really did bustle women in and out of here with no stopping for any other interaction, based on how weird the vibe felt.
“I said you must have set up a— Aw, never mind. Wasn’t that funny anyway,” Gabe said.
“It wasn’t,” Philly said. “You guys want to join us?” She elbowed Dex, who un-slouched and moved further into the corner of the couch, freeing up space.
“Yeah. Come on. One of the premium channels is doing a Clancy movie marathon. The Hunt for Red October is up. We’re gonna binge them all and then vote on our favorite Jack Ryan,” Dex said.
I looked at Logan to see if he wanted us to join the group or just head up to his room.
Both appealed to me in very different ways, so I was content to do what appealed to him.
But he was shaking his head, so I took that to mean we wouldn’t be voting on the best Jack Ryan.
(I’d have voted for John Krasinski, even though he wouldn’t have been part of a movie marathon.)
“No. Thanks. Actually”—he looked down at me now—“do you mind if we just call it a night? I forgot about something I need to take care of before morning skate.”
It was lame. Really lame. So lame that Veeti and Gabe exchanged looks and then, after a quick, pitying glance at me, returned their eyes to the TV, which Dex quickly restarted.
Embarrassment crawled up my body, starting at my feet—which had walked not to my dorm room!
—but to his house—at his request!—all the way up to my face—which I could feel turning red—to the top of my head—which might actually explode and send my curls spewing over Gabe, who would surely never forget them then.
I couldn’t even look Philly in the eye. I knew what I’d see, though maybe she wouldn’t actually mouth the words I told you so.
“Oh, yeah? Forgot about something? Well, you’ll want to take care of that, right?”
Everyone felt the ice in my tone. Another look passed between Gabe and Veeti.
“Megan, I—”
“Honestly, it’s no big deal. I just wish you’d remembered before you asked me to come and hang out. I could have gotten a few things done myself.”
“My bad. Totally my bad. I forgot all about it until I walked in here.”
“Yeah, a lot of things changed when we walked in here,” I said under my breath, but I knew he heard me.
He shook his head, actually shook his head, like to dislodge the stupid in him. “It can wait. I can do it tomorrow, early. Let’s—”
“No. You’re right. Get it done now. I’m going to head back to the dorm. Nice to meet you guys,” I said to Gabe and Veeti, “and to see you both again,” to Dex and Philly.
There was a chorus of “you too” and “see you soon” and other half-hearted goodbyes. Words they’d probably said to many girls that left this house the morning after.
At least I’d dodged that bullet of embarrassment.
“I’ll walk you to Creyts,” Logan said, and turned to lead me out of the house.
As I passed through the front door, I turned and put a hand on his chest, stopping him. His muscles flexed under my touch and I had a moment of regret that I would not get to run my hands all over that glorious chest, naked, tonight.
Not any night.
Because tonight had just proven what I’d talked about last Wednesday when we were out with Stick and Jane.
“This wasn’t a good idea. Neither was Monday night. I was right. Too hazardous to bring anything else into it when we’re dealing with emotional shit. Light and fun hookups aren’t going to mesh with that.”
“No, Megan, that’s not—”
At my realization, the embarrassment left me and I was left with a feeling of hollowness that had become so familiar to me in the past year.
“Really. I’m fine. I was pissed a second ago, but this is the right call. Definitely. I’m glad you saw it before I did.”
“I didn’t. That’s not what…” He tilted his head back, as if the doorjamb held the words he could not conjure up. “Come back in. Let me explain what happened.”
I wasn’t sure how he was going to spin it, and found I didn’t care.
“You know what, Logan? It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. Please don’t walk me home. My dorm is right there. I’m good.”
“I think I should—”
I pushed on his chest this time, then took my hand away. “Logan, stay,” I said, like he was a puppy.
As I walked across Sturgess and headed to Creyts, I thought the analogy was close. Logan Fields was a hound, all right.
And I had seen up close that you couldn’t teach an old dog/hockey whore new tricks.