Chapter Twelve
EMMA
It was only a little after eight-thirty when Logan pulled his Mustang into his driveway. In the span of an hour and a half, we went to a party, Logan got dumped, I was flirted with by one of the most popular guys at school, we left the party, we stopped at a fast food restaurant and quickly and silently ate a couple cheeseburgers, and then we drove home. We were nothing if not efficient.
I hadn’t been inside Logan’s house for years. The last time I was there, it was for his eleventh birthday party. That was the last one my parents forced me to attend, and the last one his parents had forced him to invite me to. Needless to say, it was weird stepping inside. It was like I was a little kid again.
“Emma Dawson!”
As soon as we shut the door behind us, Logan’s father stepped out of the living room to greet us.
“Hey, Mark,” I said with a smile and a wave.
“I thought you guys were going to a party?” He glanced curiously at Logan.
“We went,” Logan said. “It was lame. We decided to leave.”
“Is that Logan and Emma?” came a voice from the kitchen. A few seconds later, Logan’s stepmother, Rachel, emerged carrying a salad bowl. “Oh hey, you two. We were getting ready to have some dinner. Would you like to join us? There’s more than enough food.”
“No, thanks,” Logan replied politely. “We grabbed something on the way home. We’re gonna go upstairs. We’ve got some stuff to work on.”
Mark looked confused. “Stuff?”
“Yeah. School stuff.”
“But school’s out for the summer.”
“I realize that, Dad. This is a…summer project. For extra credit.”
“Oh.” Mark didn’t look like he bought that, but he let it go. “Okay then. Have fun, I guess?”
Rachel returned to the kitchen and set down the salad just as a wailing cry came from upstairs. Her shoulders sagged slightly. “Abby does this every time. It’s like she knows when we’re getting ready to do something and she starts crying on purpose.” She started heading for the stairs. “She’s going to be a fun teenager, I can already tell.”
Surprisingly, Logan placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “Go ahead and eat. I’ll go check on Abby.”
Rachel’s face morphed into an expression of gratitude. “Really? You don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” Logan replied.
“Thank you,” Rachel breathed. She smiled at me and said, “It’s nice to see you, Emma,” before heading back to the kitchen with Mark.
“That was nice of you,” I said as we started up the stairs.
“I’m not always a jerk, you know.”
To me, he was, but I decided not to say that out loud.
Abby’s nursery was located at the end of the hallway, right next to Mark and Rachel’s bedroom, and it was the cutest room I’d ever seen. Three of the walls had been painted pale pink, while painted on the other wall was a breathtaking mural of a forest. On the wall above her crib, her name was spelled out in large, bright pink, sequined letters, and it was surrounded by framed prints of Disney princesses. Little stuffed animals—bunnies, kittens, puppies, lambs, monkeys, owls, you name it—were scattered throughout the room, even though she wasn’t old enough yet to appreciate them.
“I know,” Logan said, taking note of my expression of awe. “Disgusting, huh? It’s like Tinkerbell projectile vomited all over the room.”
“Not at all. This room is amazing.”
“Not as amazing as the baby who sleeps in it,” he said, reaching into Abby’s crib and picking her up.
The instant she was in his arms, the crying stopped. It was like he’d found a switch somewhere on her back and flipped it, that’s how sudden the transformation was.
“Wow,” I said, thoroughly impressed. “You’re really good with her.”
“Thanks,” he said, bouncing her slightly on his hip. She rested her little head against his chest as she fought to keep her eyes open. “But I can’t take credit for that. It’s science.”
I blinked in confusion. “Science?”
“Yeah. Science. They’ve done studies and have found babies react exceptionally well to beautiful people. Something having to do with them finding aesthetic features to be calming.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Seriously?”
He flashed me a cocky grin. “Here, we’ll test it out.” He held Abby out to me and without thinking about what he was doing, I took her from him.
She seemed as comfortable with me as she did with him and Logan frowned.
“Huh,” he said. “I guess that study was bunk. She seems fine with you, too.”
I made a face at him and gave Abby back. “Ha-ha, very funny,” I said at his insult attempt.
He laughed softly as he placed Abby back in her crib. “It looks like the little princess just wanted some attention. She’s already asleep again.” He turned and motioned toward the door. “Shall we?”
I followed him out of the nursery and we headed across the hall. Logan’s bedroom was far less showy than Abby’s nursery. There was a lot of dark gray and black. Minimal. And surprisingly neat, too.
“So, this is Logan Reynolds’s infamous bedroom, eh?” I said, stepping inside.
“Infamous?” He scoffed. “I think you meant famous.”
“No, I meant infamous,” I said with a smirk. “So, what are we doing here, anyway?”
Logan went over to his computer desk and searched through a pile of books. When he found the one he was looking for, he grabbed it and walked over to the end of his bed and sat down.
Giving the empty spot next to him a pat, he said, “Here, join me.”
I hesitated for a moment. Sitting on a bed with Logan? Not really something I wanted to do. Ever.
“Oh my God, Emma, don’t worry. I’m not going to try to seduce you or anything. You’re not my type.” He shook his head in disbelief.
With a scowl, I sat down beside him and glanced curiously at the book in his hands: it was our yearbook.
“Why did you grab the yearbook?”
“Because I want you to sign it,” he joked with a sly grin. “But seriously, I thought it might be a good idea if we went through it and looked at all the girls Matt has ever dated.”
My heart deflated inside my chest. There was a good chance that could take all night. Matt had dated a lot of girls in that book. “Why? So you can drive the point home that he’s way out of my league and that I should try for somebody a little more attainable?”
“Not exactly. I’ve been best friends with Matt forever, and I know why he dated each one of these girls. I figured maybe this would give you some ideas of what you may need to change about yourself, so we can add you to this list.”
Well, wasn’t that romantic? More and more this whole idea of Logan’s was sounding worse and worse. Still, I hated to admit I was kind of curious to know what attracted Matt to all those girls. And maybe, just maybe, I could learn something valuable.
“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “Who’s the first girl?”
Logan seemed pleased at my willingness to proceed. Opening the book, he flipped to the juniors first. “Okay, in alphabetical order, starting with our class: first up is Kristy Andrews.” He pointed to a picture of a perky girl with long, straight brown hair and perfect teeth. “Matt dated Kristy our Freshman year. He liked her for the simple fact her boobs grew two cup sizes over the summer before we entered high school.” He moved onto the next page. “Next up is Samantha Bridges. He dated her a few months after he broke up with Kristy. He liked her because she smoked. Of course, he thinks smoking is gross now, but when he was fourteen, he thought smoking looked cool, therefore he thought Samantha was cool.”
He turned the page. “Alison Dodge. He liked her because she had red hair and freckles and that made her unique. Melissa Grimes, she was peppy and always so positive about everything. It was annoying to me, but Matt ate it up. I think all that positivity just made him feel good. Jenny Livingston, he liked her because she was good at…” His voice trailed off as his lips formed into a slight smirk. “Well, I’ll let you use your imagination on that one.”
A feeling of unease washed over me as Logan continued to point out girl after girl. I knew Matt had dated a lot of girls, but I’d never actually counted. By the time Logan was done with our class alone, the count was at twenty. Before he could go onto the upper or lower classmen, I grabbed the book from him and closed it.
“Hey, we were just getting started,” Logan protested. I knew he could tell I was greatly disturbed by Matt’s eclectic taste in girls, and I also knew how much he was enjoying my misery.
None of the girls Logan pointed out were shy nerds or geeks, like me. Maybe that should have given me hope—like maybe I could be his first in that category—but it didn’t. Suddenly, I wanted nothing to do with any of this anymore.
Tossing the yearbook onto the bed behind me, I stood and said, “I’m going home.”
I moved to leave but Logan’s hand shot out and grabbed mine, stopping me.
“Wait,” he said. “Don’t leave. I wasn’t trying to discourage you, you know.”
He almost sounded sincere. “Well, you did anyway. I get it, okay? I’m not Matt’s type and you’d be wasting your time trying to turn me into a girl who is. All I learned from this is apparently to get Matt to notice me, I need to grow bigger boobs, start smoking, dye my hair, pretend everything is wonderful, and become a pro at certain physical activities I’ve never done before, because I’ve never even kissed anyone.” When I realized my embarrassing admission, I cringed, waiting for Logan to make some smartass comment.
But surprisingly, he didn’t. Instead, he looked like he felt sorry for me. Like he pitied me. That was even worse.
“Go ahead, make fun of me. You know you want to.”
“I wasn’t going to make fun of you,” he said, his voice sincere. He let go of my hand, got up, went back over to his computer desk, and grabbed a notebook. “So, what? You’ve never kissed anyone. That’s easy enough to fix.”
I snorted. “How so?”
He took a step forward so that we were only a few inches apart. He lowered his gaze to my lips. “I could kiss you right here, right now, and then you wouldn’t be able to say you’ve never kiss anyone anymore.”
At his words, my mouth went dry as my heart leapt up into my throat. His sudden proximity, mixed with the spicy scent of what I assumed was his aftershave, made me lightheaded. I would have pushed him away if I hadn’t completely frozen in place.
“But I won’t,” he continued, backing away. “I’m guessing you’re saving that kiss for somebody special, but Emma, a word of advice? Maybe try to get that first kiss out of the way before you get with Matt.”
I swallowed hard as my pulse began to slow to a normal speed. “Why is that?”
He returned to his bed, sat down and opened the notebook. “Because Matt has kissed a lot of girls, and he’ll be able to tell right away how inexperienced you are. And believe me when I tell you, Matt has no interest in being anybody’s first anymore—and that goes for everything.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was referring to. Feeling deflated, I plopped down into his computer chair, rested my elbows on my knees, and cradled my face in my hands.
“Hey,” Logan said. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure out the kissing thing later, alright? Right now, we’ve got other things to discuss.”
“Like what?”
“Like what we’re going to do this summer.”
I removed my face from my hands and eyed him warily. “Logan, why are you so interested in helping me with all this? It’s summer vacation. You should be spending all your time with your friends, not me. You hate me, remember?”
Logan stared down at the notebook in his hands. “Hate’s an awfully strong word, Emma.”
“But it fits, doesn’t it?”
He thought about it for a moment. “Okay, so we’ve never exactly been friends. And I’ve always thought you were a know-it-all goody-two-shoes with an irritating voice—” He stopped for a second when I threw him a glare. “But maybe it’s time we grow up and be adults. Aren’t you tired of hating me for no reason?”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Are you kidding me, Logan? I have all the reasons in the world to hate you. For starters, I hate you for calling me a know-it-all goody-two-shoes with an irritating voice. And I hate you for lying on that compatibility test and ruining my chances of having a genuine summer romance with somebody I wouldn’t have to change myself for.”
“I know. That’s why we’re doing this. I’m trying to make that up to you.”
“By telling me my wardrobe sucks and my personality sucks and I need to change everything about myself to get a guy to like me? Geez, thanks, Logan. How can I ever repay you?”
Logan held out his hands in surrender. “Okay, let’s stop for a moment, alright? Emma, I never said you had to change everything about yourself to get a guy to like you. I said you’d have to do that to get Matt to like you. I’ll help you get whatever guy you want. We can go sit outside the library tomorrow and snag you a boyfriend within an hour, if that’s what you’d prefer.”
He leaned forward and held my gaze. “But Emma, this isn’t just about getting Matt to like you. This is about getting yourself to loosen up and live a little. This is about not having to rely on lame compatibility tests to find a boyfriend for you.” He paused for a moment, as if deciding whether he should continue. Finally, he said, “Can I be perfectly honest with you?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted him to be, but I nodded anyway.
“There’s nothing wrong with how you look,” he said. “You’re tall, you’re literally girl-next-door pretty, and you’ve got a nice figure that you unfortunately hide underneath unnecessary layers of clothing. Honestly, you’re kind of hot—like sexy librarian hot.”
I could feel my face starting to burn at his words. I had no idea that I could be considered anywhere near “hot”, especially to somebody like Logan Reynolds.
“And when you blush like that, it’s one of the most adorable things I’ve ever seen.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. What was going on here? Logan was being uncharacteristically nice to me and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. And he wasn’t just being nice, he was also bordering on flirtatious.
He must’ve sensed my discomfort, because he was quick to add, “Don’t worry, Dawson, I’m not coming on to you. That’s where the compliments end. The reason you’ve never had a boyfriend has nothing to do with how you look, but everything to do with how you act. I’ve known you my whole life, so I know you don’t put yourself out there because you’re shy and reserved. But to guys who don’t know you, they see that and mistake it for you being a stuck-up snob who thinks she’s better than everyone else. Pair that with the fact you’ve always got your nose stuck in a book and guys want nothing to do with you. They think you’re uptight and boring. A stick-in-the-mud. That’s what we need to work on. You need to start having fun and stop being so damn scared of everything.”
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he didn’t give me the opportunity. He held up the notebook in one hand a pen in the other. “This is where I come in. I’m going to teach you how to get a life.”
“I have a life,” I grumbled, staring down at my hands.
“But not an interesting, exciting one.” He clicked the end of his pen and started scribbling something on the paper. “Tell me, are you still afraid of heights? Afraid of the water? Large crowds?”
“Did this just turn into a therapy session?”
“Answer the questions, Emma.”
I leaned back in the chair and sighed. “Yes. To all three.”
He jotted down some more stuff. “You still don’t know how to swim, correct?”
I stared up at the ceiling and gritted my teeth. “I know how to swim. I just don’t know how to swim well.”
“Okay, we’ll definitely be changing that,” he muttered.
“What? Why?”
“Because Matt’s throwing a pool party next week, and you’re going.”
“No, I’m not,” I said, returning my gaze to him.
“Yes, you are.”
“I wasn’t invited.”
“I’m inviting you.”
“And I’m turning you down.”
“Emma,” he said, setting the notebook down beside him. “When Matt is your boyfriend, you’re going to have to attend his pool parties. And you’ll have to do so in the skimpiest bikini you can find. You might as well start now.”
The word “bikini” instantly triggered a minor anxiety attack. I didn’t do bikinis. I didn’t do tankinis. Or one-pieces. Or any form of swimwear in general. I felt so exposed in bathing suits, which made me feel uncomfortable, and which was probably one reason why I never properly learned how to swim. There was no way I was going to go out and buy a bikini and wear it in front of Matt, let alone half the students in our class.
“I can go bikini shopping with you, if you’d like.” He flashed me a lopsided grin.
“I wouldn’t like,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “So, what have you been writing over there?”
He closed the notebook. “Just some ideas. Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”
I was planning on starting my book-organizing project, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him. “Nothing. Why?”
“Because,” he said, “we’re going to hang out.”
“Hang out? And do what?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out. Remember? I have a list.”
I didn’t like the fact he had this “list” and wouldn’t let me see it. It wasn’t fair that I didn’t even get a say in what was on it. Still, I found myself saying, “What time?”
Logan grinned. “How about noon again?”
Another afternoon hanging out with Logan? What was I getting myself into? I was about to blindly follow a guy I’d spent my entire life loathing, and now I was not only putting all my trust in him, but I was also going to be spending my summer vacation doing things I didn’t want to be doing.
Unless...
“Noon sounds fine,” I said, my lips curling into a devious smile as an idea began to form in my head. “But I have a proposal.”
Logan arched an eyebrow. “A proposal?”
“Yes. Why don’t we make things interesting? If I’m going to be stuck doing all these things on your list that I’m not comfortable doing, it’s only fair that you do the same.”
He stared at me blankly. “I don’t follow. This isn’t about me.”
“Sure, it is. You lied on that compatibility test because you didn’t want Grace to think you two had anything in common. She may have dumped you, but you and I both know she’s going to change her mind and want you back. Is that what you want?”
“Well, no, but—”
“So, here’s what I propose: you get me to do things that will turn me into somebody Matt will like, and I’ll get you to do things that will turn you into somebody Grace won’t like.”
“Things?” he echoed. “Like what type of things?”
I grinned. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Logan chuckled. “Hey, that’s my line.” He paused for a moment, looking lost in thought. “I don’t know, Emma...”
I leaned forward in my chair. “What’s wrong? Not up for the challenge? Don’t think you could handle it?”
That instantly changed his tune. “Oh, I can handle whatever you have to throw at me, Dawson. I just don’t want to spend my summer vacation alphabetizing books.”
“That’s fine,” I said, casually crossing my arms over my chest. “Maybe we should call this whole thing off then.”
A look of panic flashed across his face so quickly, I had to wonder if I was just imagining it. “Okay. You win. We’ll do it your way.”
“Excellent!” I jumped up from the chair and headed toward the door. “I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow.” I flashed him a wicked grin over my shoulder before leaving the room.
I was going home to make my own list.
This was going to be fun.