Smile

Chapter 13: Chicken Salad

"Where's the boyfriend?" Cora asked me when she found me rummaging through the fridge. From all the noise, I could tell the other adults had moved their talk to the livingroom.

"Bathroom," I replied, grabbing two water bottles and shutting the fridge doors. "He just woke up. Should be coming down soon."

"Thank God," she laughed. "For a minute we all thought he was made up. Well, until your grandmother assured us that he was real. So," she hopped on the counter and grinned, as she always did when gossip of any sort was involved, "what's he like?" Sometimes, my aunt reminded me of a teenager. That's why we got along so well, I think.

"I guess you'll have to find out for yourself," I said when I heard someone come down the stairs. A few seconds later, Logan came in, all signs of tiredness gone. He first smiled at me—this time, it was not forced—then at my aunt, who perked up.

"Hello, there," she smiled. "I'm Cora. Chloe's aunt."

"Hey, I'm Logan," he shook Cora's outstretched hand. "Chloe's boyfriend."

"You know," Cora said, retrieving her hand. "I've been dying to meet you since I found out Chloe had a boyfriend and that he'd be coming over. So, tell me, was your nap worth making me wait like this?!"

I was about to scold her for being so straightforward when Logan chuckled. "You have no idea. Haven't slept for so many hours in a row in weeks." He'd aimed for his tone to sound light, but when you knew what he'd gone through like I did, it was harder to believe he was joking. I wasn't entirely convinced he was.

Cora, however, was laughing. "Life can be tough, huh?"

"You've got that right," Logan agreed, accepting the water bottle I'd forgotten to offer him up until now with a quick 'thank you'.

"Logan, hey!" The child I called my father walked in, hand raised. Almost like a reflex, Logan slapped it and my father grinned. "Good nap?"

"Great nap." Logan smiled back, stepping aside to let my father have access to the fridge.

"Well, now, I'm sure you're hungry. We won't be eating for a few hours, and you missed lunch, but we've got leftovers. How do you feel about chicken salad?"

"Sure, Dad, I'd love chicken salad!" I said sarcastically, not appreciating being ignored by my own father.

Logan laughed. "Sounds good, Mr. Mallark." I glared at him for purposely ignoring me too, and he only grinned at me in response.

"You guys are cute," Cora spoke up as my father started working on the chicken salad (which wasn't hard, considering all he had to do was dump it into two bowls). "How long have you been together?"

"A week in a half," I answered as Logan and I sat down at the table.

Cora was quick to follow. She seemed surprised by the answer she'd been given. "Really? You look like it's been much longer than than. And you've already met the father?" She directed her last question to Logan.

"Twice, but the first time was the day Chloe and I first started talking, and the next was over Skype."

"We really hit it off," my father added, handing Logan and I our food.

"Really?" Cora smirked, clearly amused by her brother's behavior. I couldn't say I felt the same, and Logan had no choice but to agree with my father.

-/~\-

Thankfully, meeting the rest of the family went just as smoothly. My uncles quite enjoyed teasing Logan, but he responded in an equally joking manner, so everyone quickly took a liking in him. He seemed so at ease with everyone, that for a moment I thought I'd imagined the whole Logan-breaking-down thing until I saw him falter for a second when my aunt Melissa asked about his family. He answered that his brother was away at college and that his father was a hard-working real estate agent. I hadn't known the part about his father's job, but all I could think about was the fact that he hadn't mentionned his sister. I could tell it bothered him not to aknowledge her existence, but he didn't want pity, so neither I, him, my father, nor my brother mentionned Clara's name that night.

-/~\-

It was close to midnight. The kids were all asleep, as were my grandparents. Luckily, they were all heavy sleepers, otherwise the noise the adults were making would've surely kept them up. My father had agreed to let Logan stay the night, but he made it very clear that he only allowed it because we would be sleeping on the couch (it could be transformed into a bed) and because he didn't want Logan to be alone—especially not tonight.

"Five... Four... Three... Two... One..." Logan looked up from his watch and smiled at me. We were sitting on the couch/bed, alone in the livingroom. The only source of light came from the lamp on my side of the couch. "Midnight."

I smiled back. "Merry Christmas, Logan."

He leaned in and whispered "Merry Christmas, Mallark," before touching his lips to mine. The kiss didn't last long, but it was enough to make my head spin as Logan pulled away to hand me my gift. I grabbed the carefully wrapped gift and guessed it was a book of some sort. When I opened it, however, I discovered it was a notebook... with stuff already written on almost every page.

"I don't get it," I told Logan after a while. He smirked, like he'd been waiting for this exact reaction.

"It's a notebook," he said, and I nodded. I'd gathered this much by myself already. "You see, that's the problem with getting in a relationship so close to Christmas. I realized as I tried to find you the perfect gift that I was having trouble because I didn't know that much about you. I mean, pretty much all we know about each other are our family situations. So, I came up with this solution; I spent the last week filling this notebook with everything I love, including everything I love about you so far, and my favorite memories. In other words, I'm officially giving you my everything."

I blinked the tears back as I stared at the notebook. Had Logan really gone through all this trouble for me? There were about a hundred pages in this thing; it must've taken him hours to fill! Suddenly, my gift didn't feel like such a good idea.

"Great, now I feel like the worst person ever," I said, wiping the rebelling tears off my cheeks and bringing him into the tightest hug I could manage. "My gift is not nearly as good."

"Just the fact that you spent time to get me something makes me happy, no matter what it is."

So, with that said, I handed him a bag, which held a sweatshirt Will had told me Logan had had his eye on for a while but couldn't afford.

"Are you serious?" Logan exclaimed, grinning when he took out the sweatshirt. "How'd you know?"

"Will told me," I answered.

"That little prick," he mumbled, still smiling. "Chloe, this costed, like, a hundred bucks! That notebook costed me two dollars!"

I giggled. "Well, if it gets you smiling like that, I'd pay a hundred bucks any day," I told him truthfully. Other than the day he'd asked me out, I don't think I'd ever seen him smile so big. He chuckled as he shook his head before hugging me just as tight as I had after having received my gift. We stayed in that position for several minutes before pulling away, and not even a second later, Logan's lips crashed onto mine, and we were kissing.

Here was one of the things I liked most about Logan McCloud: He wasn't a fan of PDA, other than hand-holding and the occasional hugs. So, when he kissed me or even hugged me, he put everything into them. He made me feel like I shared the same emotions with him—the same pain, and the same sudden bursts of happiness, and it often left me dizzy. There was nothing casual about giving someone a piece of your soul, and he made every little touch count.