Wolverine--The Next Generation

Crap Happens When You Pick the Barstool

*The Next Morning, Marissa’s Point of View*

I was wrenched out of a deep, dreamless sleep by the early morning sunlight streaming through the window. I blinked my eyes open, only to jerk them back shut at the blinding daylight. I tried again, this time letting my eyes adjust. I was about to crawl out of bed, coming to a stop when I realized I was naked. I heard a soft snore come from alongside me. I rolled over to find a shirtless—and possibly naked—man with an all-too-familiar haircut. It was…Logan. With the realization, I sat up like a shot from a gun, clutching the sheets close to my chest, instantly regretting sitting up so fast. My head began to throb as a feeling of dizziness waved over me. I closed my eyes to let the spell pass. I looked at Logan again, whispering to myself, “Oh no” over and over again. I closed my eyes tight for what seemed like forever before opening them in hopes of him not being there. No such luck.

There were two things I could do: 1) Wake him up and figure out how the hell we got here, and 2) sneak out of the room and hope that he wouldn’t hear me. Maybe he’s deaf when he sleeps.

I went with option #1. I shook him by the shoulder, “Logan. Logan, wake up.” He mumbled a bit, but stayed asleep. I shook him a little harder and spoke a little louder in a second attempt. He rolled over on his back this time and opened his eyes slowly. He had a similar reaction to mine when the light got him. He draped his arm over his eyes, whispered, “Shit.” I waited a few moments to ask the awkward question, “Logan,” I said slowly, “are you naked?”

“As a jaybird,” he answered without removing his arm from his eyes. I lay back down beside him. I stared up at the ceiling, not daring to look him in the eye. “Logan, do you remember anything…about last night?” He exhaled sharply, “The last thing I remember is,” he closed his eyes for a moment, “Scott taking us our rooms. The rest is a blur.” I thought for a minute, “I think I came into your room.” Okay, that was dumb. We are in his room. All Logan said was, “Mm-hmm.”

*Logan’s Point of View*

I sat up in bed, making sure the sheet covered me up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. Marissa did the same, but beside me. I asked, “Where do you want to go from here?”

“Well, I should probably take a pregnancy test.” I nodded, “Right. But can we not talk about that until we’re sure whether or not you’re pregnant?” She nodded. “We’d better get dressed now Logan. It’s almost 9:30.” We got dressed really quick, trying to not look at each other. Marissa left as soon as she was dressed. I went to the kitchen to get some breakfast. The professor rolled into the kitchen. “Good morning, Logan.” I barely looked his way, “Hey, Professor.” I pulled the orange juice out of the refrigerator and asked the professor if he wanted some. He said yes, and I poured two glasses, absentmindedly. The professor said my name four or five times before I realized the glass was over-flowing. The professor wheeled over with a roll of paper towels. I snatched the paper towels out of the professor’s hands and cleaned up the mess. I was a mess, and the professor could tell. He looked at me with concern, “Logan, is everything all right?”

“Yeah. Why?” The professor looked at me skeptically, “You seem preoccupied. Things like this don’t normally happen with you, Logan. Are you sure everything is okay?” Just then Scott walked in with a really stupid grin on his face, “Hey, Logan. How’d you sleep?” he asked me in a sing-song voice. I looked at him funny and answered him in the same tone, “Fine. How ‘bout you?” He hit me in the arm, “Funny guy, acting like nothing happened last night.” Great. I started lying to him. It’s a good thing he’s not psychic. But the professor is… “Nothing did.”