Side Effects

Chapter Sixteen: Revelations,

Halia' POV

My hands curled around the chipped purple mug, filled with 80% coffee and 20% milk. Delanie, who had prepared the coffee herself, liked it at a different ratio: 90% milk and hardly any coffee.

The whirlwind of events from this magical evening still pulsated through my head. I guess you could say that I was happy.

"And what did he say about your segregation of calamari?" Delanie asked with a raised eyebrow. Ever since I got back from the date, she had been questioning me hard.

It was kind of strange.

"He was slightly but playfully offended with me. Apparently he likes legs."

"He probably would rather eat your legs more then anything else." Delanie rolled her eyes and muttered boys underneath her breath.

"Lanie, why are you interrogating me?"

Delanie squeezed her hands around her mug, "I'm your best friend. It's normal for me to ask questions on my best friend's first date with a cute boy." Lanie's eyes were stared at another point across the room, never touching my own.

Her eyes flitted across the room, completely filed with panic and dread.

"No, but I'm getting this weird vibe from you."

I thought about when I showed Delanie a picture of Logan when she first arrived a week ago. She initially looked shocked.

"What? Didn't expect me to be able to reel in a hot catch?" I teased her.

Quickly recovering, Delanie smoothly replied, "He's just the hottest guy I've ever seen."

And then today: the whole day I was getting hyped up for the date, Delanie had become more defensive and outcast then usual.

Several times I would have to ask her the same question: "This dress or this skirt?" "Would these shoes match?"

All I got was a silent Delanie staring off into oblivion. My better judgement told me something was up.

I placed my chipped mug onto the polished granite of the island.

"Delanie. Seriously. What is going on?"

Delanie's eyes widened. "NO! No there's---there's nothing going on." Delanie's hands went back to her mug, and she began to clench it tightly. Relieving stress.

All of these signs; all of these things that lead to only one conclusion: Delanie liked Logan.

Giving up, I took my mug upstairs, muttering a "good night" to Delanie as I went.

I left her alone for the rest of the night.

Knowing that I should keep my mind off of it, I called Amelia and Charlotte and told them everything that happened on Logan and I's date.

And I mean everything.

They interrogated me to the very last detail.

"Where did he take you? And at what time? Oh and what did you wear?" Charlotte tittered.

"And what did you order? Their calamari is to die for!" Amelia added.

"OH and what did Log---"

"GUYS guys guuuyyyssss. How am I supposed to answer anything if you continue to pile on the questions?"

There was a slight pause of static on the other ends of the line.

Charlotte dramatically sighed. "Fair enough."

I spent the rest of the night laughing the moon away with the best girls I know.

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"Don't let her find out."

That's all that Halia's mother replied, in a clipped and stern way, after I explained the situation with Logan.

After the phone call, I rinsed my mug in Halia's sink and put it back into the cupboard. Halia was starting to get suspicious of my intentions, and I had no idea how to prove my innocence.

I had never told anyone about my six months in Jenner. I only reported to HQ about my status, not my social life.

The cold hard wood felt falling on my bare feet as I made my way up to my room. The walls in Halia's house were many vibrant colors, never a dull space or design visible. To most it would probably look hectic, but only Halia could manage to pull off such a untimely fashion.

I remember adjusting well here; all my training in my adolescent years made me flexible and perky enough to join the cheer squad.

And of course I met Logan.

Logan was like breathing fresh air. He was so open and friendly, and he loved basketball with a passion. I remember little things about him; the way his eyes shifted when he was nervous, the smell of his cologne on my skin. His lips.

All these things were tangible, but my feelings were anything but. When Logan first admitted he was in love with me, it was the middle of sophomore year in high school. Astounded, and head over heels, I said it back.

Over the last two years, I've looked at that moment as a treasured one. But, I've come to a realization that I did not fully love Logan. I mean, I was a fifteen year-old, on a mission, pretending to be someone I wasn't. Logan loved my character, he loved me for someone I wasn't. And it pains me to think about it.

I shuffle around in Halia's guest room, and manage to find myself sprawled on the bed crying. The sheets were warm, but my heart wasn't. I yearned for a false life that I could never get back.

Why am being so over dramatic about a stupid boy? I should be focusing on my mission here. To make sure Halia could integrate herself back into her old lifestyle of a spy. But, with Logan in my way, I knew that this would be more than impossible.

I groaned, and put a pillow over my head.