Chapter 4 #2
Logan smiled—helplessly, quietly—nodding before he could even think. Adrian was already turning back toward the dance floor. He looked lighter now, like just asking had been enough.
And Logan, still seated, felt his heartbeat rise with a force he didn’t recognize, a quiet storm of emotion tightening in his chest. He didn’t understand it, wasn’t ready to name it, but he didn’t want it to stop.
The music pounded, filling the room with an electric, thrumming energy that only seemed to magnify the flickering lights and the crush of bodies moving in the dark.
Logan’s gaze repeatedly wandered to Adrian, drifting back to him time and again, as if magnetized by this beautiful man.
Adrian was laughing, his hair falling loose from its tie, his eyes shining as he lost himself in the music, his body moving with a freedom that seemed as natural as breathing.
He looked beautiful, unbound, and Logan’s chest ached with a feeling he couldn’t place, something deep and sharp that seemed to expand with every passing beat.
Adrian was the one who was always open, always inviting, connecting with people as if he were meant to belong everywhere.
And then Logan saw him. Another guy had drawn close, his hand slipping easily onto Adrian’s shoulder, leaning in to speak, their laughter rising over the pulse of the music.
Adrian didn’t pull away; he leaned in, his expression warm, listening with that easy, open smile, the one that seemed to welcome anyone and everyone.
Logan’s pulse surged, a wildfire spreading beneath his skin, hot and consuming.
His breath hitched, his body tensing with the sharp, electric edge of something primal, something too tangled to name.
He stepped forward, muscles coiled tight, a single, urgent thought hammering through his skull: Get your hand off him.
How dare that bastard touch Adrian like that?
The world narrowed, his focus pinning to the scene before him—the guy’s fingers still resting on Adrian’s shoulder, casual, claiming.
A smirk curled at the edge of the stranger’s lips as he angled his phone toward Adrian, the screen flickering with images that seemed almost too perfect: dreamlike landscapes drenched in golden light, wild and boundless.
Logan’s stomach twisted, the weight of something unspoken pressing heavy against his ribs as he watched Adrian lean in, closer, laughing—soft, familiar, like a sound spun from warmth and memory.
A laugh meant only for him. And yet, here he was, sharing it with someone else.
Someone whose touch lingered just a second too long.
“You have to come!” The guy’s voice carried just enough over the music, loud enough to reach Logan. “We’re leaving in a couple of days, it’s one of the sickest places ever!”
“Sounds cool,” Adrian replied, his voice light, noncommittal, but Logan caught a flicker of intrigue in his eyes, something that dug deep into Logan’s chest.
“You must come! The waves are amazing, and the beaches are to die for!” the man’s hand was now around Adrian’s hips. “We’ll have the best time!”
Logan felt himself moving forward, an instinct he couldn’t stop, his feet dragging him closer as if he could dissolve whatever connection was forming between Adrian and this stranger.
But then they were drifting off, walking toward a dim corner of the room, leaving him in the open, stranded and aching in a way that was sharper than anything he’d ever felt.
Logan’s throat tightened as he watched them disappear, something raw and desperate gnawing at him, a jealousy so fierce it was like a wave crashing over him, pulling him under.
Images flashed like lightning behind Logan’s eyes—fragments he couldn’t bear to see, yet couldn’t stop imagining as they came like a flood sweeping through Logan’s mind and drowning him in something he didn’t have the words for.
That guy—him—standing in the spaces that used to belong to Logan.
Sitting across from Adrian at one of the restaurants and cafés they loved to frequent, bickering lovingly over what to get.
Surfing beside him, their laughter echoing over the waves, effortless and easy.
Walking shoulder to shoulder down sun-drenched streets, brushing close in ways that Logan had never let himself think about too hard.
He could almost see it—see Adrian looking at him, not him, like he was the person Logan used to be in Adrian’s life.
Every stolen moment, every inside joke, every piece of Adrian that Logan had quietly gathered over the few days they had together, it was all slipping, being handed off to someone else.
And what shattered him the most was that Adrian didn’t even seem to notice.
Didn’t see that Logan was right here, unraveling.
A hot, suffocating ache clawed at Logan’s chest, twisting into something almost unbearable.
Why did this hurt? Why did the thought of Adrian with someone else feel like waves holding him beneath the surface, like he could not breathe, like the ground beneath him was shifting, making it impossible to stand?
He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand.
All he knew was that it felt wrong, like he was losing something, like something vital was being stolen from him, even if it had never really been his to begin with.
Without thinking, he turned away, weaving his way through the crowd, past the thrum of bodies and music, the press of heat, the flickering light.
His breath came fast, jagged, as he pushed toward the exit, fighting the swell of anger and pain that surged with each step.
By the time he stepped into the cool night air, he was trembling, a pulse of something unfamiliar pulsing through him—something fierce and stinging, something he didn’t want to acknowledge.
Logan practically sprinted through the night, the sand and path blurring beneath him, his chest burning with something hot and fierce, something he didn’t even know he could feel.
It was as if a fist had seized his heart and squeezed, punching the air from his lungs the second he’d seen that stranger talking with Adrian, leaning in with a familiarity that made Logan’s blood boil.
Adrian, laughing easily with someone else, like he hadn’t just spent the past few days filling Logan’s world.
It shouldn’t matter, he told himself. Adrian probably had dozens of friends scattered across the world, friends who saw the easy charm, the open warmth he carried like the sun glancing off the waves.
But that didn’t stop the burning ache clawing at Logan’s chest. It didn’t stop the jealous rage that seethed through him, even if he couldn’t understand it, couldn’t name the reason for it.
All he knew was that the feeling was there, thick and wild.
He stumbled into his small cabin, yanking off his shoes and slumping down on the bed.
He tried to distract himself, glancing at his phone, flipping through notifications without really seeing them, his mind still replaying that stranger’s hand on Adrian’s shoulder and Adrian going with that man away to some deserted corner.
The image flared like a bruise, and he tossed his phone aside, getting up to get a drink from the minibar.
But then, his own mind betrayed him.
A vicious, vivid image flickered behind his eyes, unbidden and merciless.
Adrian, lips brushing against his—that guy’s.
Adrian’s hands sliding over him, pulling him closer, pressing against him in ways that Logan had never let himself imagine.
Adrian letting himself be touched, melting into it, into him.
A piercing, agonizing twist coiled within Logan’s gut, echoing the turmoil of his thoughts.
Stop! His mind screamed, his breath coming fast, unsteady. Stop it. Stop thinking about it. But the more he fought it, the deeper the image sank in, like poison seeping into his veins. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, trying to force himself to feel nothing.
Then came the knock, it was a sharp, pounding sound that rattled through the floor and up into Logan’s bones. He didn’t move. Didn’t need to. He already knew who it was.
Still, he made no rush to answer. Let the door stay shut. Let him be the one to open it.
A beat later, the unlocked door swung wide, and Adrian stormed in like a force of nature.
His breath was ragged, chest rising and falling with the remnants of his run, his skin still damp, slick with sweat.
His hair clung to his forehead in dark, damp strands, and his cheeks were flushed, not just from exertion.
Logan’s pulse thudded, too fast, too loud.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The air between them crackled, charged with something Logan didn’t dare name. Adrian’s eyes were wild, intense, locked onto him like he was searching for something, demanding something.
Logan swallowed hard, but the lump in his throat stayed lodged there. He forced himself to hold Adrian’s gaze, even as everything inside him screamed to look away.
“Is everything okay?” Adrian’s voice was taut with worry. “Where’ve you been? I looked everywhere for you! I have been running around looking for you!”
Logan leaned back against the table, his posture deliberately casual, refusing to let his face betray him. “Didn’t feel like partying anymore.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed, his anger shifting to frustration. “You could’ve told me! I looked for you! I thought that maybe something had happened.”
“Didn’t want to disturb you,” Logan muttered, gripping his bottle a little tighter. “You were busy with that guy, right?” The memory of that stranger, with his hand on Adrian and his voice in Adrian’s ear, standing close, laughing with him before backing away. Walking away to a corner.