A Little Off the Top (4/?)
Chapter 4 of A Little Off the Top. Hope you like!
Moved on. I can't believe he's moved on already. Did we not just have "the talk" only yesterday? He didn't even wait a full day.
Correction, I tell myself; we were never "together", so there was never anything to move on from. He made his intentions clear--he did say in not so many words that he couldn't lose me...but as his best friend. That's the distinction.
What did I think was going to happen here? That Logan would just be content with my friendship and not need the company of another woman, ever?
I turn off the water and lower myself slowly into the hot, foamy bathwater, my only comfort when I'm feeling like this. I ache all over from this morning's Danger Room session, but none of that compares to the ache in my chest.
Bobby was right; Logan didn't waste any time, either. That stung. So, what, did he bear his soul to me by the stream, get the reassurance he needed, carry me to the mansion on his back, then waltz directly to the gym and start his campaign to get the Shiny New Thing in his bed? God, I feel like such an ass.
An ass because it was so easy for him to draw that line of friendship, and so hard for me to stay behind that line. I reassured him that I understood; and yet, on some subconscious level, I somehow still thought of Logan as mine, despite the words that we said. I blatantly danced up and down that line, whether I was aware of it or not. I convinced myself, promised that I would be the friend that he needed me to be, when in fact I was just burying my feelings all over again. I managed to fool both him and myself.
The more I think about it, the more foolish I feel. When we stood there by the stream, I thought I felt something more between us at that moment, even if he couldn't say it. I had somehow imagined that there was this undeniable heat between us when it was in reality just simple flirtation; he held my face, caressed my lips, and I mistook his tenderness to mean feelings of romance.
I have no one to blame but myself. And that makes it all the worse.
There is a familiar stinging in my eyes, and I know what's coming. Don't cry. Don't. Fucking. Cry. It seems I'm throwing a little Rogue pity party of one, and I am not having that bullshit.
I direct my eyes down to the bubbles floating on the water, and try to distract myself by searching for random shapes and patterns. Despite my monumental efforts to not give in to the urge to cry, a tear slides down my nose and falls into the water, creating a small ripple in the surface.
Ok, just one tear, but that's it. I will not allow any more. Against my wishes, another slides down my cheek, and then another.
"Argh!" I growl, and slide down, completely submerging myself under the water. Fine, you little fuckers. Try rolling down my face when you're under water.
I clamp down and wait for the tightness in my chest to dissipate. 20...21...22...The silence, save the odd, subdued sounds of being underwater, makes me feel like I'm suspended in another world, and I try to find peace in that feeling.
"Marie? Marie!" says a muffled voice from above, and suddenly I'm being pulled swiftly upright by two strong hands.
"What the--" I sputter, grasping the side of the tub and wiping my eyes. "Logan?"
"Are you ok? What the hell are you doing?" he demands.
I stare at him for a moment as if he has gone mad. "I'm taking a bath, what does it look like?"
His eyes scan the room, noting the candles and bottle of bubble bath solution. "I don't know. It looked like you were drowning when I walked in. I just reacted on instinct."
We continue staring at each other for a long moment, until his eyes dart to my breasts, and I suddenly realize that I am very naked here. I gather the bubbles around me to cover up, and he looks away, clearing his throat.
"What are you doing here, Logan? Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"
"I did knock, but you didn't answer."
"Well then, I guess that means that I'm either not home, or I don't want company," I say smartly.
He looks at me but doesn't say anything for a moment. "Jeanie said that I should come talk to you. She wouldn't say why."
Jean told Logan to come talk to me? Why would she do that?
"I knocked on your door, but you didn't answer," he continues. "I thought you weren't here, so I was going to keep walking, but then...I smelled your tears."
I blink a few times, taken aback by his admission. I had forgotten just how sensitive his sense of smell is. Which means that if I even think about making something up about the reason I was crying, he'll know it's a lie. Shit. I am not about to tell him that I was crying over him wanting to hook up with Little Miss Cute-yet-sexy-funny-as-hell-great-laugh-great-curves-hot-red-haired-wonder-girl instead of hanging around doing platonic things with his BFF for the rest of his life.
"Why were you crying?"
"I don't know."
"Bullshit. Why were you crying?" he says again.
"I'm PMS-ing," I lie futilely. "It's perfectly normal for women to be emotional when it's close to that time of the month."
He crosses his arms. "Try again." Damn. I thought talking about female stuff would throw him off.
I sigh and look at him tiredly. "Logan...please. I don't want to talk about it. Just...let me be, ok?" I hug my knees to my chest.
He scans my face for a moment, and then his eyes soften. Moving closer, he sits on the side of the tub and leans in. "Hey," he says gently, lifting my chin. "Look at me."
I don't want to. Looking into your eyes will just break my heart and I'll start crying again.
"Marie. Look at me."
A take a moment to gather myself, and then slowly lift my eyes to his; those intense hazel eyes, so beautiful, looking at me with tenderness and concern.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. What can I say? That I'm crying because he was totally honest with me about wanting to be just friends, but I didn't think it would be this hard? That I secretly love him and that it hurts to even think about him being with someone else? That I promised I would always be there for him, but only if he didn't pursue other women? I can't say any of that.
"What's going on?" he asks gently. He tucks a white strand of hair behind my ear, pauses, then slowly trails his finger along my jaw before cupping his hand to the side of my neck and face.
I close my eyes...this feels too good. His thumb begins to caress my cheek, wiping away the invisible path of the tears I shed earlier, and it's almost too much. Then I feel his thumb slowly, tentatively begin to caress my lips, just like when we stood by the stream. My eyes fly open at the sensation; he is staring at me intently with dark, hooded eyes, and my heart flutters. No. I'm seeing things that aren't there again. No, no, no! I have to stop this right now.
"Don't." I jerk my chin away, and he looks surprised, then...hurt? Well--well too bad. He shouldn't be looking at me like that, touching me like that. It's sending the wrong message to my heart, and it's already confused as it is.
He's too close. I can feel his body heat and he smells so good, and oh God I want to pull him into this tub and feel his hard body against my soft curves, and I have to stop this right now before he smells my arousal and I have to protect my heart, and where the hell is my towel? My mind races and my eyes search frantically for a towel, a robe, anything within reach so I can cover myself and get out of here. Dammit! Why do I always forget to keep a towel close by when I take a bath?
Finally I spy my robe across the room, draped over a chair. Ugh, I'm going to have to ask Logan
to get it for me. I take a deep breath. "Would you please get my robe for me?" I mumble.
He doesn't answer. His brows are furrowed and his jaw is set, and I can tell that he's gone from hurt to angry.
"Logan, please. My robe."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"Not until you tell me what's going on."
Now it's my turn to be angry. "I don't have to tell you anything!"
"Darlin', I can wait here all day," he says, crossing his arms. "As long as it takes."
Oh, the nerve! Who does he think he is? He's going to hold me hostage in my own tub, just so he can satisfy his curiosity? Well screw that!
I glare at him for a few moments, fuming while he just sits there arrogantly with an eyebrow cocked like he knows I'll have to give in. Well, he's got another thing coming if he thinks I'm going to cave in to his little pressure tactic.
"You know what, Sugar?" I say with an evil smirk, "It's a good thing you don't age, 'cause you're gonna be waitin' a long time." I rise to my feet and face him head on, enjoying the feel of water and bubbles sliding down my body, reveling in all my naked glory. The look on his face is priceless.
I reach for his shoulders, bare breasts a mere few inches from his face as I steady myself and step out of the tub. I saunter across the room, grab a towel from the bar, and hear a low rumble from Logan's chest as I bend over to wrap my hair in a turban. Without so much as a glance backward, I slip on my robe and walk out of the bathroom. If he won't leave, then I will.
"Be sure to close up here when you're all finished," I call out behind me as I strut out of the room and shut the door.
Moved on. I can't believe he's moved on already. Did we not just have "the talk" only yesterday? He didn't even wait a full day.
Correction, I tell myself; we were never "together", so there was never anything to move on from. He made his intentions clear--he did say in not so many words that he couldn't lose me...but as his best friend. That's the distinction.
What did I think was going to happen here? That Logan would just be content with my friendship and not need the company of another woman, ever?
I turn off the water and lower myself slowly into the hot, foamy bathwater, my only comfort when I'm feeling like this. I ache all over from this morning's Danger Room session, but none of that compares to the ache in my chest.
Bobby was right; Logan didn't waste any time, either. That stung. So, what, did he bear his soul to me by the stream, get the reassurance he needed, carry me to the mansion on his back, then waltz directly to the gym and start his campaign to get the Shiny New Thing in his bed? God, I feel like such an ass.
An ass because it was so easy for him to draw that line of friendship, and so hard for me to stay behind that line. I reassured him that I understood; and yet, on some subconscious level, I somehow still thought of Logan as mine, despite the words that we said. I blatantly danced up and down that line, whether I was aware of it or not. I convinced myself, promised that I would be the friend that he needed me to be, when in fact I was just burying my feelings all over again. I managed to fool both him and myself.
The more I think about it, the more foolish I feel. When we stood there by the stream, I thought I felt something more between us at that moment, even if he couldn't say it. I had somehow imagined that there was this undeniable heat between us when it was in reality just simple flirtation; he held my face, caressed my lips, and I mistook his tenderness to mean feelings of romance.
I have no one to blame but myself. And that makes it all the worse.
There is a familiar stinging in my eyes, and I know what's coming. Don't cry. Don't. Fucking. Cry. It seems I'm throwing a little Rogue pity party of one, and I am not having that bullshit.
I direct my eyes down to the bubbles floating on the water, and try to distract myself by searching for random shapes and patterns. Despite my monumental efforts to not give in to the urge to cry, a tear slides down my nose and falls into the water, creating a small ripple in the surface.
Ok, just one tear, but that's it. I will not allow any more. Against my wishes, another slides down my cheek, and then another.
"Argh!" I growl, and slide down, completely submerging myself under the water. Fine, you little fuckers. Try rolling down my face when you're under water.
I clamp down and wait for the tightness in my chest to dissipate. 20...21...22...The silence, save the odd, subdued sounds of being underwater, makes me feel like I'm suspended in another world, and I try to find peace in that feeling.
"Marie? Marie!" says a muffled voice from above, and suddenly I'm being pulled swiftly upright by two strong hands.
"What the--" I sputter, grasping the side of the tub and wiping my eyes. "Logan?"
"Are you ok? What the hell are you doing?" he demands.
I stare at him for a moment as if he has gone mad. "I'm taking a bath, what does it look like?"
His eyes scan the room, noting the candles and bottle of bubble bath solution. "I don't know. It looked like you were drowning when I walked in. I just reacted on instinct."
We continue staring at each other for a long moment, until his eyes dart to my breasts, and I suddenly realize that I am very naked here. I gather the bubbles around me to cover up, and he looks away, clearing his throat.
"What are you doing here, Logan? Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"
"I did knock, but you didn't answer."
"Well then, I guess that means that I'm either not home, or I don't want company," I say smartly.
He looks at me but doesn't say anything for a moment. "Jeanie said that I should come talk to you. She wouldn't say why."
Jean told Logan to come talk to me? Why would she do that?
"I knocked on your door, but you didn't answer," he continues. "I thought you weren't here, so I was going to keep walking, but then...I smelled your tears."
I blink a few times, taken aback by his admission. I had forgotten just how sensitive his sense of smell is. Which means that if I even think about making something up about the reason I was crying, he'll know it's a lie. Shit. I am not about to tell him that I was crying over him wanting to hook up with Little Miss Cute-yet-sexy-funny-as-hell-great-laugh-great-curves-hot-red-haired-wonder-girl instead of hanging around doing platonic things with his BFF for the rest of his life.
"Why were you crying?"
"I don't know."
"Bullshit. Why were you crying?" he says again.
"I'm PMS-ing," I lie futilely. "It's perfectly normal for women to be emotional when it's close to that time of the month."
He crosses his arms. "Try again." Damn. I thought talking about female stuff would throw him off.
I sigh and look at him tiredly. "Logan...please. I don't want to talk about it. Just...let me be, ok?" I hug my knees to my chest.
He scans my face for a moment, and then his eyes soften. Moving closer, he sits on the side of the tub and leans in. "Hey," he says gently, lifting my chin. "Look at me."
I don't want to. Looking into your eyes will just break my heart and I'll start crying again.
"Marie. Look at me."
A take a moment to gather myself, and then slowly lift my eyes to his; those intense hazel eyes, so beautiful, looking at me with tenderness and concern.
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. What can I say? That I'm crying because he was totally honest with me about wanting to be just friends, but I didn't think it would be this hard? That I secretly love him and that it hurts to even think about him being with someone else? That I promised I would always be there for him, but only if he didn't pursue other women? I can't say any of that.
"What's going on?" he asks gently. He tucks a white strand of hair behind my ear, pauses, then slowly trails his finger along my jaw before cupping his hand to the side of my neck and face.
I close my eyes...this feels too good. His thumb begins to caress my cheek, wiping away the invisible path of the tears I shed earlier, and it's almost too much. Then I feel his thumb slowly, tentatively begin to caress my lips, just like when we stood by the stream. My eyes fly open at the sensation; he is staring at me intently with dark, hooded eyes, and my heart flutters. No. I'm seeing things that aren't there again. No, no, no! I have to stop this right now.
"Don't." I jerk my chin away, and he looks surprised, then...hurt? Well--well too bad. He shouldn't be looking at me like that, touching me like that. It's sending the wrong message to my heart, and it's already confused as it is.
He's too close. I can feel his body heat and he smells so good, and oh God I want to pull him into this tub and feel his hard body against my soft curves, and I have to stop this right now before he smells my arousal and I have to protect my heart, and where the hell is my towel? My mind races and my eyes search frantically for a towel, a robe, anything within reach so I can cover myself and get out of here. Dammit! Why do I always forget to keep a towel close by when I take a bath?
Finally I spy my robe across the room, draped over a chair. Ugh, I'm going to have to ask Logan
to get it for me. I take a deep breath. "Would you please get my robe for me?" I mumble.
He doesn't answer. His brows are furrowed and his jaw is set, and I can tell that he's gone from hurt to angry.
"Logan, please. My robe."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"Not until you tell me what's going on."
Now it's my turn to be angry. "I don't have to tell you anything!"
"Darlin', I can wait here all day," he says, crossing his arms. "As long as it takes."
Oh, the nerve! Who does he think he is? He's going to hold me hostage in my own tub, just so he can satisfy his curiosity? Well screw that!
I glare at him for a few moments, fuming while he just sits there arrogantly with an eyebrow cocked like he knows I'll have to give in. Well, he's got another thing coming if he thinks I'm going to cave in to his little pressure tactic.
"You know what, Sugar?" I say with an evil smirk, "It's a good thing you don't age, 'cause you're gonna be waitin' a long time." I rise to my feet and face him head on, enjoying the feel of water and bubbles sliding down my body, reveling in all my naked glory. The look on his face is priceless.
I reach for his shoulders, bare breasts a mere few inches from his face as I steady myself and step out of the tub. I saunter across the room, grab a towel from the bar, and hear a low rumble from Logan's chest as I bend over to wrap my hair in a turban. Without so much as a glance backward, I slip on my robe and walk out of the bathroom. If he won't leave, then I will.
"Be sure to close up here when you're all finished," I call out behind me as I strut out of the room and shut the door.