Hypothetical Heart (Farewell Fairwood #2)

Chapter 28

28

I n all honesty, making new friends was never something I imagined having to do. I’ve grown up with the same friends my entire life, to the point where I’m not even sure I know how to make those types of connections on my own.

But when Logan shows up at my door, telling me to get ready, I know exactly what he’s scheming.

“There’s a new student dinner happening tonight in the city. I figured we could go together,” he tells me once I’m sitting at my desk, running a brush through my hair.

It’s been an entire week since he kissed me in my bedroom the day we moved in, and since then, we’ve spent every day going back and forth between the two of our apartments, continuing to kiss every now and again, but without any type of serious conversation.

No concrete labels have been placed, and I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t bother me, but I’m also not going to bring it up. I was the one waiting for Logan to make a move, and I’m not going to be one to complain now that he has.

He made the first move, which was all I had been hoping for.

“Some notice is always appreciated, Logan.” It’s always been easy for him to show up unannounced, whether at my apartment or back in Fairwood at my house, and just assume I would be going somewhere with him. “What do I even wear to this?”

Logan sets his hands on my shoulders as he stands behind my chair. “I got it, don’t worry.”

I’m too focused on the feeling of his hands leaving my shoulders to even notice how he’s now rummaging through my closet. “What are you looking for?”

“Something for you to wear,” he says, like it’s obvious.

I’m not opposed to him taking the task off my plate, especially considering I only brought my favorite clothes to college–despite what Logan would say by the looks of it–so it’s not like he can pick out an outfit I’ll hate.

He comes back out with a sparkly top and a pair of ripped jeans. “I think this will look good.”

I watch him through the mirror lay the outfit flat on my bed, smoothing it out in the most endearing way possible.

“That’s cute, good choice,” I tell him as I put mascara on. “Do you want to pick out my underwear too?” I joke.

“Winnie,” he sighs, running his hands over his face. “You’re torturing me.”

“Not like you haven’t already seen them all.” I can’t tell if his reaction is out of actual embarrassment or if it’s my teasing that riles him. My guess would be the latter.

“Get dressed.” He laughs, ruffling my hair when he steps behind my chair. “We need to leave soon.”

B y the time we get to the restaurant near the center of the city, Logan is already carrying my purse in one hand while the other is wrapped around my waist. Maybe it was a bad idea to walk here.

“Do you know anybody here?” I ask as he opens the door for me.

“No, that’s the point.”

Almost every table in the upscale restaurant is filled to the brim with college students, and I can’t help but notice the nerves that run up my spine. Logan grabs my hand, pulling me toward two empty seats where we set our stuff down.

“Want a drink?” he asks, and I nod, already following him toward the bar.

Sitting at the high top waiting for our drinks, a girl and guy approach us.

“Hey. I’m Alex,” the guy says, smiling toward me. “This is Brianna.”

“Logan.” The guys shake hands. “This is my girlfriend, Winnie.”

I’m taken aback by the title, but Logan made it seem so natural that I’m tempted not to question it. Still, my smile widens at the adoration in his voice.

“Hi.” I wave, smiling politely.

“Do you do ballet?” Brianna asks me, sitting in the barstool next to me.

“Um... yeah, I do.”

“I can tell, your feet are in first position right now.”

I look down toward my feet resting on the rod of the barstool to find they are, in fact, in first position. Nobody has ever noticed this about me before, which is odd considering I’ve spent almost my entire life subconsciously training my brain to have perfectly turned-out feet.

“It’s a habit,” I reply. Ever since I was little, I’ve found any excuse to fix my posture or stretch my feet.

“I have a few friends who were in ballet companies growing up. That’s the only reason I noticed.”

My phone lights up with a text from where it’s sitting face-up on the bar top.

It’s from Genevieve, a picture of her and Jameson sitting on her dorm bed.

“Aw, look.” I face the screen toward Logan.

He turns away from his and Alex’s conversation, smiling at the sight of our best friends. “They’re all settled?”

“Yeah, Evie texted me earlier saying she finally felt like the room was clean enough for now.” Every time we’ve called in the past week, Genevieve was cleaning her dorm. It didn’t matter how many times she had swept and mopped, in her head, she still knew people lived there before her and couldn’t stop fixating on it.

“You should invite her to visit sometime,” he says right as the bartender finally sets our drinks down in front of us.

“She’d probably clean the entire time,” I joke.

We continue talking about our friends from home—how Eloise is doing at Yale and how we’re shocked we haven’t seen Luke around campus yet—and it takes a few minutes before we realize Alex and Brianna already got up and left.

“Maybe they had somewhere to be.” Logan tries to brush it off.

“Or maybe we’re just bad at making friends,” I say what we’re both thinking out loud.

Don’t get me wrong, Logan is the nicest of people, and everyone wants to be his friend, but the truth is, he’s never had any interest in having a large abundance of them. He’s content with the group we’ve grown up around being his primary circle and anyone else being a kind acquaintance.

I had a feeling this was exactly how our night would end. “Let’s get out of here.” I grab his hand, and he uses his other to throw a twenty over the bar.

Carrying me down one of the busiest streets in New York City, holding under my thighs while also holding my heels, Logan tells me all about his first week of classes and practically every assignment he’s had to do while I keep my face securely buried in his neck, only adding to the conversation when needed.

We decide about halfway through our walk home that we should get dinner, so we stop at a pizza place, get our pizza, and continue on our way. And since Logan already has his hands full, I so graciously offer to carry the bag of food

When we get to our apartment building, we don’t even have to discuss which of our apartments we’re heading back to because it’s usually mine.

I put the pizza boxes in the oven so it doesn’t get cold while I take a quick shower. Logan runs down to his apartment to change out of his clothes and is back and settled on the couch by the time I exit my bathroom. I set the pizza on the coffee table while he finds something on the TV for us to watch.

“Do you think something is going on with Eloise?” I ask, flopping down on the couch next to him.

“What do you mean?” He asks, setting down the remote before he finds something.

“She hasn’t really been answering my texts or calls for the past few days.” Usually, all of us message in our group chat, but from time to time, we all text each other separately.

I cherish not only the bond we have as a group but also the friendships we have formed separately. It’s what helps us all work so well when we’re together.

We’re all best friends, individually and together. So Eloise ignoring me is unlike her.

“She might just be busy.” Logan shrugs like he’s not entirely sure.

“No,” I deny quickly. “Something else is going on.”

I only noticed the lack of communication when I was texting Genevieve in the restaurant earlier, and now it’s all I can think about. Is this her way of putting some type of separation between us?

“Maybe she’s just trying to adjust. She’s all by herself at Yale, and you know her, she’s probably out making friends.” His face shifts the tiniest bit into a look of cringe, almost like he’s reprimanding himself for lying. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?” I stand, grabbing my phone from the kitchen counter. Before he can even answer, my phone is already ringing. “I’m calling her.”

I can’t get this feeling out of my chest, one that says something isn’t right.

“Winnie, hey,” Eloise answers the phone on the seventh ring. Her voice sounds far away, and not in a distance sense.

“Hi, I was just calling to check up on you and see how Yale is going.”

“Oh…” she trails off, clearing her throat. “It’s great.”

“Is something wrong?” I ask her straight out.

“What?” I run the hand not holding my phone through my hair. “I just have this sinking feeling that something is wrong and that I need to check on you,” I sigh.

“Winnie,” is all she says. No confirmation or denial.

“Eloise, what’s wrong? Let me help.”

Logan stands at the sound of my strained pleas, watching me pace around the living room.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers.

“About what?” I look to Logan for help, wondering if he knows more than I do. “Logan’s here too, Eloise. Do you want to talk to him?”

“He already knows.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “Already knows what?” I look back and forth between my phone and Logan, not knowing where to focus my attention.

I can tell by Logan’s face that he doesn’t feel comfortable telling me, he wants Eloise to be the one.

“I’m dating Briar Hart,” she says, no further pressure needed.

If I was stunned before, I’m a statue now. As much as I had a feeling Eloise had a crush on Briar, especially when I overheard her call her in Myrtle Beach, I had no idea Briar’s feelings were mutual.

“Who else knows?” By the look on Logan’s face, I can tell he didn’t know the extent of the information.

“Gen, and now you two. Maybe Jameson, too. I’m not sure if Gen told him or not.”

She definitely wouldn’t have, not without Eloise telling her she could.

“I don’t see the issue,” Logan says into the phone. “You were all worried about her being straight and not liking you back, but if you’re dating, then what’s the problem?” “There are just a couple minor predicaments, but I really don’t want to get into it,” she sighs.

My chest is aching for her, knowing something is bothering her while she’s trying to put on a tough act.

“Are you sure it’s nothing we can help with?” Logan asks .

“No, it’s out of our control for right now.”

I exchange looks with Logan at her response, both of our gut instincts saying this is bad.

“Will you please let us know if you need anything?” There’s something that feels so detrimental about this situation, and knowing we’re not even in the same state is making me worry even more.

“I will, thanks guys.” Her voice breaks. “Sorry guys, I’ve gotta go.”

After we hang up the phone, I practically fall into Logan. “This doesn’t seem good, does it?” I ask, his arms wrapping around my shoulders.

When things like this happen, it almost feels like a thundercloud has rolled over our friendship, everyone can feel the storm coming, and there may not be much we can do except brace ourselves. Even though that feels so, so wrong.

“I’m sure whatever it is, they’ll work it out.” His hands make circles up and down my back in a comforting motion. “And if they don’t, we’ll all be here.”

For the rest of the night, Logan stays with me on the couch, watching TV as we slowly drift to sleep, and when I wake up in the morning, there’s coffee sitting on the kitchen counter while Logan cooks some type of breakfast.

Last night may have been a shit show, but the good thing about shitty days is that there’s always a tomorrow waiting, giving you a chance to make a bad day into a good week, a good year, a good life . There’s something so magical about mornings and the new hope they bring, and I feel it now that I have my arms wrapped around Logan’s shoulders, watching him scramble eggs on the stove.

“How crazy is it that this is our life?” I whisper into the serine silence of the kitchen.

Logan plates our food while I take a seat across the island from him.

“Every day, I thank the universe for allowing me to have you in my life.” All the passion in the world could never compare to the way it feels hearing those words come from his mouth.