Unlikely Hearts - Logan Huntzberger

Chapter Nine

Alouette woke up with a dull, throbbing headache and a dry mouth, the kind that only came from one too many shots and poorly mixed cocktails. She blinked, squinting against the morning light filtering through the curtains, and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The scent of expensive cologne and the sight of plush bedding triggered a memory: Logan's apartment. Her heart pounded as flashes from the night before flooded her mind—the kiss, the bathroom, the feeling of his hands on her skin.

She turned her head, finding Logan lying next to her, still asleep. His bare chest rose and fell with each breath, and his hair was tousled, a few strands falling across his forehead. He looked peaceful, almost innocent, and for a moment, she allowed herself to take him in. It felt surreal, waking up next to him after everything that had happened.

Careful not to wake him, she slipped out of the bed, wincing as the cold floor met her bare feet. She grabbed her dress—now wrinkled and haphazardly draped over the back of a chair—and quietly tiptoed into the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to erase the smudged makeup and clear her foggy thoughts. Staring into the mirror, she saw her own eyes staring back, a mix of confusion and guilt swimming in their depths.

Why did you let it happen? She thought, gripping the edge of the sink. She could still feel the lingering warmth of his hands on her waist, the taste of whiskey on his lips. But she forced the memories away, reminding herself that it had been nothing more than a drunken mistake.

Alouette took a deep breath, steadied herself, and slipping out of Logan's tee shirt and boxers, and slipping back into her dress. She pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, trying to regain some semblance of composure. Just leave before he wakes up.

But as she reached for her shoes, a voice broke the silence.

"Making an escape?"

She froze, her heart dropping into her stomach. Slowly, she turned to see Logan, propped up on one elbow, his eyes locked onto her. There was a teasing glint there, but also something else—something softer, almost vulnerable.

Alouette forced a smile. "Just trying not to be the last one here."

Logan's grin faded slightly, replaced by a look she couldn't quite read. "You don't have to sneak out, you know." He sat up, ruffling his hair with one hand. "We could talk. Or—"

She cut him off, shaking her head. "Logan, last night was... a mistake." She felt the words catch in her throat, but she pushed them out anyway. "We were drunk. And stupid."

His eyes darkened, and he leaned back against the headboard, arms crossing over his bare chest. "Is that what it was? Just a mistake?"

Alouette felt the weight of his stare, and it took everything in her not to look away. "Yeah, that's exactly what it was." She could feel the wall going up, that familiar sense of self-preservation. "We've done this before, Logan. We both know how it ends."

Logan's jaw tightened. "You mean, you running away before we actually figure anything out?"

She bit her lip, the sting of his words settling into her chest. "I mean us pretending like any of it means something when it doesn't."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the silence between them feeling heavier than it ever had. She felt the tension pull tight, the hurt hidden in his eyes, and the unspoken words lingering on her tongue. But she forced herself to turn away, grabbing her shoes and slipping them on.

"Lou." His voice was softer now, and it made her hesitate. She felt a pang in her stomach; she wasn't used to her full name coming out of his mouth. "What are you so afraid of?"

She paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. "I'm not afraid, Logan. I just—" She struggled to find the right words, feeling her resolve start to crumble. "I can't let myself do this again. We were a mess, and you know it."

Logan swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up and crossing the room until he was just a few feet away. "So, what? You're just going to pretend it never happened?"

She met his gaze, feeling the intensity there. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm going to do." She tried to keep her voice steady, but it wavered. "Because it didn't mean anything."

His eyes flickered with hurt, and for a brief moment, she wanted to take the words back. But then he nodded, his expression hardening as he stepped back. "Fine. If that's how you want to play it."

Alouette's heart sank, but she forced herself to smile. "It's for the best." Without another word, she opened the door and walked out, leaving the echo of the conversation behind her.

The hallway was filled with evidence of the party's aftermath—empty cups, a discarded costume or two, and the smell of stale alcohol lingering in the air. She slipped through the mess, her boots clicking against the floor, and finally made it outside. The crisp autumn air felt like a slap to her face, waking her up fully as she inhaled deeply.

She paused for a moment on the front steps, rubbing her hands together for warmth. Part of her wanted to run back inside, to confront Logan and unravel all the confusing feelings that tangled in her chest. But she knew better. They had done this dance too many times before, and it always ended the same way—hurt and disappointment.

As she walked away, the chilly wind rustling through the trees, she shoved her hands into her pockets, trying to keep herself warm. Just keep walking. Forget about last night. It didn't mean anything.

*

Alouette dragged herself up the steps of her apartment building, still wearing last night's Priscilla Presley costume—a lace slip dress and white go-go boots that feel heavier with every step. Her head pounded with every heartbeat, and she squinted as the sunlight seems to punish her for last night's decisions. Her hair, once teased to perfection, was now a tangled mess.

She fumbled with her keys and finally pushed the door open, immediately hit by the scent of coffee and perfume. Her friends, Louise, Madeline, and Amelia, were already gathered in the living room, still in their pajamas, munching on breakfast pastries. When they saw her, their eyes light up.

"Look who's back!" Louise cheered, waving a croissant in the air. "Miss Priscilla, still in costume! And looking rough."

Madeline leaned forward, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "So, what happened last night? And don't leave out the details."

Amelia smirked. "You've got that 'morning-after' look."

Alouette rolled her eyes, managing a half-hearted grin. "It's nothing. Just... classic Logan, you know?" She shrugged, playing it off like it's nothing. "He's always swooping in when he thinks he's being a hero."

Amelia raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Uh-huh. And you just happened to end up spending the whole night there?"

Louise and Madeline exchanged glances, clearly eager for more, but Alouette stays vague, brushing them off with a tired smile. "It's not that deep, seriously. You know how he is."

Louise sighed dramatically, slumping back onto the couch. "You always say that, but something's definitely up."

Alouette shrugged, making her way to her room. "Trust me, nothing happened worth mentioning." She disappears behind her door, leaning against it as she exhales deeply. Only then does the image of Logan's concerned eyes and his hands on her skin flash in her mind. She pushes it away, knowing she can't afford to let herself go there—not again.