Not Another Summer Love Story

Chapter 14 - Half Past One

It started as a throbbing. No, a beating. The beating of a heart. Thump, thump, thump. It was growing harsher and more violent as it smashed repeatedly against my earlobes.

I shot out of my bed, casting my eyes towards the sound, but all that met me was darkness. Dad was out on the boat, Maisie wasn't sleeping over. I was alone, and someone was trying to break into my house.

The light switch would draw attention to myself, I couldn't illuminate my surroundings to find my weapon. Instead I flip off my quilt cover and feel around, my fingers curling around a hairbrush. Sure, it wasn't much, but a hefty knock across the head with it could do at least a little damage.

I found the door, slowly turning the knob and opening it. The crashing continued, it was like a violent knock. Wait, if an intruder was trying to break in, why would they be knocking on the door?

My shoulders relaxed slightly from their tense position, at least they weren't entering with force. I tiptoed down the hallway, passing an illuminated clock on the wall. Half past one in the morning.

When I reached the threshold of my front door, the crashing stopped abruptly. I think I heard someone muttering outside. The eyehole revealed nothing but darkness, and I dared to flick the switch that would turn on the light outside.

It revealed a figure, he was tall and lean and his arms were crossed over the wood of the door, his head falling between his shoulders. I couldn't see his face, but I was sure it was Logan Mathews just from his height. Logan Mathews who I'd been avoiding for almost a week, and who I still hadn't even spoken about with Alastair because even he didn't care about hearing about him.

He tumbled through the threshold when I opened the door. He'd been supporting his weight on the wood and was momentarily unbalanced, catching himself on my shoulder. Meanwhile I was frozen in disbelief, weighing up the probability of this all being some weird dream.

I was the first to speak. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Logan's surprised look turned to a bright smirk, his eyes not quite focusing properly as he took a step back. "Hi, Vally."

"Are you drunk?"

Logan shrugged as he invited himself further into the house, running a finger over the kitchen counter in the almost dark room.

"What are you doing in my house," I repeated. I was still holding the hairbrush. My voice was hollow, cracking a little. I couldn't tell if I was upset or annoyed that he was in my house. Jeez, never seeing him again was working so well for me.

"I wanted to ask what was up with you and that Aaron guy."

"Alastair?" I corrected. This was not happening. "Even if there was anything up, it's nowhere near any of your business. It's especially no reason to be in my house at this hour. Get out."

"Oh, Vally," he sung. "How does that song go, the one that Amy Winehouse sung?"

"Please don't."

"Stop making a fool out of me! Why don't you come on over Valerieee!" He bellowed, rocking up and down like he was a pop singer.

"Jesus, Logan," I hissed. I turned and shut the front door, worried he'd wake the neighbours if he hadn't already. He was definitely so drunk, he was struggling to even support himself on the counter.