Have You Ever Listened To The Rain At Night?

Chapter 22

It was comfortably warm in the room, the light was pleasant, not too bright, not too dark, the bed was comfortable, and his voice was warm, his touch gentle. "What are you thinking?"

Camille tilted her head in Logan's direction, sighing softly. "Just about how easy it would be to call school tomorrow and tell them I'm sick. Then we'd have the whole day to ourselves."

A slight frown appeared on his forehead, and he nodded slowly. "I see your point, I really do, I can imagine that high school can be pretty tough. However, you should be grateful that you are able to go to school at all."

It took a few seconds for his words to fully sink in, then she sat up in bed, horror written all over her face. "Oh my god . . . You're right . . . I . . . I didn't mean to . . . I'm sorry."

Of course, school was an uncomfortable topic for many people, and not exactly popular, but what Camille and many others took for granted was something like a miracle for people like Logan. He would probably do anything to have a normal life and go to school like any other teenager. But his life was different. Sitting lonely at a computer day after day and torturing his way through digital data, facts and events. Camille knew a lot of students at her school who probably would have swapped places with Logan in a heartbeat. Not having to go to school anymore and just sitting in front of a computer all day was a pure dream for many people. She also had days when she wished she didn't have to go to school anymore. And yet . . . unlike Logan, she really had no reason to complain. Sometimes she forgot to look at things from his point of view. And every time it came back to her, she felt guilty, just like now.

"That was stupid of me, sorry."

He simply smiled his warm smile, scooted closer to her so Camille could feel the warmth of his body, and leaned his head on her shoulder. "It's okay, I'm not mad at you."

He was so sweet, so kind and deserved nothing but the best. How Camille wished that it was within her power to give him everything he wanted to make him happy. They cuddled for a while until Camille voiced the thought that had been bothering her since the afternoon. "There's something that bothers me, something my mother said today."

"She said a lot, but your dad . . . not that much."

"Yeah, I know. My mom is pretty nosy, my dad isn't. Anyway, the point is that she said you and your family were rich . . . is that true?"

"What makes you think that?"

"It's a feeling. My mom actually has a pretty good nose when it comes to this sort of things. And ever since she talked about it, I can't stop thinking about it."

Logan moved away from her, and she immediately missed his warmth. "Look around. Are we currently in a mansion with a pool and sauna area? Do we have our own housekeeping staff? Do my parents drive expensive cars, do we wear expensive clothes or accessories?"

"That doesn't mean anything. Just because you don't live it up doesn't mean you don't have any money."

"It's like I said before today. When it comes to money, my family is just like any other average family. Also . . . why is this so important to you?"

"It's not, but I've been thinking about it. Your medical support, the hospital bills, your medication, the treatments. You must be able to afford it somehow . . . right?"

Even though he tried not to show it, Camille could tell he was upset.

"Would it make a difference?" he asked. "Would it make a difference to you if my family were rich?"

She wanted to answer him, but Logan just continued, "The truth is . . . we have money, yes. We're not rich, we never were, and we never will be. But as you said, my parents use it for my medical needs and save the rest that we don't need for the future, which means it's practically non-existent. So I told the truth, we are a totally normal family, at least when it comes to money matters, and that's exactly how we want to be seen by others. We don't care about luxury; my dad doesn't even care about his doctorate. He often tells people that they don't need to call him "Doctor" because it's not important to him. He wants to be accepted by people as an equal, not worshiped like a demigod in white. So maybe your mother was right, but I'm asking you, after everything I just told you, does it make a difference to you, do I make a difference to you?"