The Boy That Stole My Heart

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

     It's strange how things were the exact same yet completely different between us. We acted the same, did all of the same things, but during those moments where our eyes met, and we both looked away blushing, smiling to ourselves, we knew that our friendship had become something more.
     We hadn't taken things any further, hadn't even talked about that Friday night, but that changed when we sat in the living room at his house watching the exorcist. We were alone with the lights out, and I couldn't help but laugh every time he looked over his shoulders for ghosts.
     I felt something touch my hand and looked down to find his pinky wrapped around mine. The feeling wasn't like the other times. It was... hot, starting in my chest and spreading into my face and belly as my blood began to boil, my heart pounding in my ears.
     We were comfortable letting things progress on their own. We had always enjoyed being together but now there was a secret aspect to our looks, our laughs, our touches. Everything was perfect.... Until,
     "I don't feel good," Logan told me when we met at the lockers between class.
     A cold chill ran down my spine. "Are you okay?"
     He nodded and offered a small smile. "My belly hurts. I think I ate too much ice cream or something."
     I couldn't help but reach out and touch his face. He was cool and clammy. "You don't have a fever."
     "I know that, you idiot," he said rolling his eyes. "My belly just hurts."
     The bell dinged. "Do you need to go home?"
     "Nah, it will pass."
     But it didn't. We didn't go to the ball field, didn't even walk home like usual. We hopped on the bus where he was too quiet for my liking, head resting on the window and his hand atop of his belly.
     I'll tell you the truth. I'm a worrier. That's a cold hard fact and despite my dad's advice, and Anna's advice, and Logan's advice, I worried. The longer we rode, the more he slumped in his seat, and the more I worried.
     "Sure you're okay?"I asked him as we got off the bus, setting my hand on his back and realizing his shirt was soaked with sweat.
     "No! I've gotta use the damn bathroom!"
     That made me smile and I felt a bit better after watching him hobble to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. I settled down on his bed, closing my eyes and trying to relax. I don't know how much time had passed but I had nodded off by the time he came out.
     "Feeling better?" I asked him, and he gave a small nod, laying back next to me.
     "I think I'm lactose intolerant bro."
     I awoke again sometime later to him trying to climb over me and before I could ask what was going on, he vomited over the side of the bed, blue from Kool aid.
     "Logan!" I said in shock as his belly heaved and he threw up a second time.
      "Bathroom," he cried out just before the third.
      I flinched as a sour smell hit my nose and I knew that he had shit on himself. It didn't bother me as much as it should have, that protective instinct kicking in and I helped him to the bathroom so that he could finish emptying his belly into the toilet.
     "Do I need to call someone?" I asked at the risk of offending him.
     He shook his head softly, laying back on the cool tile. "Nah, I feel better now."
     I grabbed a washcloth, wetting it in the sink before wiping his face with it. "You don't have a fever."
     "Yeah, I don't think it's that kinda sick."
     "Let me help you get cleaned up," I said softly earning a scowl.
     "No! Just get out!"
     I nodded. "I'll bring you some clothes okay?"
     I cleaned up the vomit while he showered and was thankful when I heard Linda's car pull into the drive. Unsure how much he wanted to tell her, I kept silent, glad when he told her everything.
     "Probably a stomach virus," she said after feeling his face and belly, pointing him towards the bedroom.
     Logan missed Thursday and Friday and I wasn't surprised at how many people asked about him. He had become quite popular amongst our peers.
      I visited him everyday but we didn't do much, mostly sitting around, watching TV and playing videogames. He was tired alot but his belly had stopped hurting and I was glad for it, content to watch him sleep, reaching over every so often to touch his hair and face. I considered myself checking on him but the truth was I was no longer comfortable unless we were touching.
     "Are you staying tonight?" He asked me suddenly.
     "Uh, of course... Why? Should I not or something?"
     He didn't look at me. "Maybe it's not such a good idea."
    "What! Why?" I asked in panic.
     He shifted, still not looking at me. "I-I've..."
     "What?" I asked again, leaning at the sound of his whisper.
     He looked up, cheeks red. "I've been wetting myself."
     "Oh! Oh, bro I don't give a fuck about that!"
     "I do!" He said angrily, more at himself than me I think. "I'm fourteen Ellie. I'm not a little kid. I don't want to piss and shit in my bed!"
       "Hey! Stop it," I said sternly enough to get his attention. "You don't piss the bed man! You're sick. It happens. I've done it and you know what? I went back to sleep with pissy underwear."
       "Shut up," he said, punching me in the arm but his smile warmed my heart. "You're gross."
     I wrapped my arms around him and he tried to push me away but I held on until he finally surrendered and leaned into my chest. We sat like that for awhile until there were footsteps in the hall and we jerked away from each other, grinning stupidly with red cheeks.