OBLIVIOUS | FanFic: Logan Paul |

Fresh Start |8|

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I. JUST. MET. HIM.

The words rang through my head, over and over and over again.

I. JUST. MET. HIM.

Standing on the carpeted floor of Logan's room, I tried to remember what it felt like to breathe, all the while scrambling for some sort of an explanation.

Logan's

Room

How did I end up here exactly?

Somehow, he had convinced me to come inside, to spend the night at his house. Oh God. Now that I thought about it, it was really sinking in. One whole night. My hotel reservation would have to be cancelled, but...I couldn't even think about that right now. All that was on my mind were his last words.

"Stay with me. Please."

My bags, my two black duffel bags, sat on his white comforter, and I stared at them blankly, shocked with my decision.

"I need you."

His eyes had been irresistibly blue. An ocean of...passion, helplessness. And I just couldn't say no. Dammit. Something with him felt...right. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, I was falling for him. In more ways than one. This was a battle, between him and I, and I was losing very, very quickly. Defeated.

I watched, mesmerized, as he turned around, the muscles in his back rippling through his red T-shirt. The fabric clung to his skin so that I could just make out his shoulder blades, all the individual muscles in between. So. Sexy. The word didn't even do it justice. I longed to wrap my arms around his waist, pull him next to me, draw him closer and closer and never let go...

"You're not like, into him, right? Cause that would be so weird for me."

I sighed. I was into him. More than into him. I hated to betray my little sister, but this would have to stay my secret for now, until I figured it all out. God, I needed to figure it all out. More than anything...

Silence.

His room—the entire mansion—was hauntingly quiet, now that I thought about it. Such a change from how it had been weeks ago, the boisterous, bellowing voices everywhere. Chaos at every corner.

Now it was just me, just him.

Squawk squawk

Well, not entirely.

A colorful parrot chirped from inside the white rectangular cage next to the balcony; Logan's eyes turned soft around the edges.

"Livana, meet my bird, Maverick."

I watched as he padded over to the parrot, immediately respondent to his cries. I could tell that he had a way with animals. He reached into the cage with care, stroking the feathers on his back so lightly, so gently. The bird responded to his touch, but backed away from his hand, towards the corner of the cage. Logan's voice turned soft, childlike.

"Come on, don't tell me you hate me too..."

He set his hand, palm up, at the bottom of the cage, and this time the bird crawled right into the center. Logan lifted him up to his shoulder, walking over to me with a smile.

"Maverick, meet Livana."

I smiled as he gestured towards me. 

"Hey there 'lil guy."

The bird let out a screeching squawk, then flew back over to the edge of his cage.

Oh.

"He doesn't, um, like me I guess."

Logan laughed, but the sound didn't quite reach his eyes.

"No, it's me he's mad at. I've been gone for too long."

The words seemed to take on a double meaning as he followed Maverick back to the cage, a long, forlorn expression on his face. He whispered the next words so softly, I wondered if I had imagined them.

"I'll let you be, then, buddy."

Logan set the bird back in the cage, careful to latch the little door all the way, then headed over to the bathroom, desolate. Broken? I hoped not.

When he stepped closer to the sink, he paused, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Really staring. What was he searching for? He tugged at the ends of his scalp, the ends of his hair, looking...lost. Dazed.

"What?" I asked.

He turned around, giving me the oddest stare.

"Do you know how to cut hair?"

. . . . . . . . .

"Why," I pleaded, for the hundredth time. I stared at his long, golden locks in dismay. "I like your hair. The way it is."

Logan sighed next to me. "Just think of it as...a fresh start."

We were both in his bathroom, Logan seated on the toilet, me standing above him, hands hovering over his head. I ran my fingers through the golden ends of his hair, the curls at the back of his neck, the swoop that arched just over the tip of his eyebrow. I eyed him in the mirror.

"Are you sure?"

He met my gaze with ferocity. His blue eyes were more fire, then ice.

"Just do it."

I sucked in a breath, then reached for the scissors. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I'd never cut hair in my life. I was surprised he trusted me. I barely trusted myself.

I adjusted the towel around his shoulders, stalling for time. What the hell am I doing... I rolled a strand of hair between my fingers. This was...painful. I brought the scissors up with the other hand, and raised the metal blade over the shiny ends....crap.

"If you don't do it," he threatened, "I will." His voice was hard, uncompromising. Not something to be messed with.

I picked up the piece again, steadying my shaking fingers. It's just hair, I told myself. Just hair.

Snip snip. Snip Snip

Wisps of blonde fell through the air, onto the towel across his shoulders, onto the floor.

Snip snip.

Golden blonde. Dirty blonde.

Snip snip.

Whirls of hair.

Oh my god.

It was already everywhere. I dared not look any further. Logan met my panicked look in the mirror and nodded, signaling for me to continue. I grabbed the swoop of hair above his forehead, his bangs. My fingers slid up an inch.

"There?"

"Further," he responded.

I moved up another inch, and he nodded.

Before I could think about it, I snipped the scissors straight across.

Snip.

It was done.

Holy.

The bangs now covered half his forehead, making him look years younger, like a little kid. But when I looked longer, he seemed...distinguished. Handsome.

My jaw opened wide as he turned his head to the side, long nose slanting down his gorgeous profile. The words escaped my lips before I could stop them.

You're not like, into him, right?

"You," I whispered.

"Are absolutely beautiful."