Invisible String

Chapter 13 -He avoids me like the plague

The apartment felt suffocating, the tension between Logan and me palpable as we moved through the day with strained avoidance. I knew we should talk about it, but the thought of it made me kind of sick.

He saw me wearing lingerie, and his first response was to run away. That made me feel both embarrassed and sad. Embarrassed because I hadn't intended for him to see me like that, and sad because it made me feel like I wasn't worth to look at. Which was odd, because he was my friend, and even though I liked him, he wouldn't be more than a friend.

After the incident, I hastily changed into a pair of jeans and threw on a hoodie, seeking comfort in familiar clothing. The events of the early morning replayed in my mind like a broken record, each moment filled with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.

I made my way to the kitchen in search of solace, the scent of freshly brewed coffee offering a small semblance of comfort. As I poured myself a cup, I noticed Logan sitting on the couch, his own mug cradled in his hands. But despite the shared moment, neither of us spoke a word, the weight of our unspoken tension filling the room like a heavy fog.

I took a tentative sip of my coffee, the warmth spreading through me but doing little to ease the knot of unease in my stomach. Just as I worked up the courage to break the silence, Logan abruptly stood up and made his way to his room, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.

How can things go so south?

I shook my head, as if trying to physically dislodge the self-doubt and uncertainty threatening to overwhelm me. Logan was my friend, someone I was starting to trust. I refused to let one awkward moment ruin it.

With a determined sigh, I set my coffee cup aside and made my way to Logan's room. The door loomed before me, closed but not impenetrable. I knocked softly, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway, before pushing it open a crack.

There he was, tying his shoes, dressed in a crisp white shirt and sleek black jeans. Gone were the casual pajamas he often wore around the apartment, replaced by an air of determination and purpose.

"Logan?" I called out tentatively, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of my uncertainty heavy on my tongue.

There was a moment of silence, the air thick with unspoken tension, before his muffled response reached my ears. "Yeah?"

My heart fluttered nervously in my chest as I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the conversation ahead. "Can we talk?" I pleaded, the words hanging in the air between us like a fragile lifeline.

"Do we have to? I'm getting ready to go to the studio," came his dismissive reply, laced with a hint of defensiveness.

What happened was bad, but that bad he couldn't even look at me?

My brow furrowed in confusion. "Are you? It's six thirty... Isn't it a bit early?" 

"When work calls..." His voice trailed off.

"Oh... when are you coming back? I really think we should talk about what happened," I pressed.

"And what happened?" he retorted, his tone bordering on indifference.

My frustration bubbled to the surface, the simmering anger threatening to boil over. "What do you mean? You just saw me wearing barely any clothes!" I exclaimed, my voice tinged with hurt.

"And...?" 

"And you ran away!" I accused, the words tumbling out in a rush, fueled by a mix of anger and disbelief.

"If you're worried I saw something, then you can chill, 'cause I didn't see anything," he countered, his tone defensive.

"And that's why you're avoiding me now? Because you didn't see anything?" I questioned, my voice laced with a mix of frustration and hurt.