For Hating Me You Sure Are Possessive

62: From the Beginning

My curiosity was something that couldn’t be contained, and I found my hand creeping down to the doorknob. Surely he couldn’t be crying. This was Logan after all. Thoughts torn, I waited there for a moment with my hand on the knob. There were no more sounds from behind the door. Taking it as a sign it was probably fine to enter I proceeded to pull the door open. Sure, I still could have knocked, but knowing Logan he’d probably have shouted for me to bugger off. He wouldn’t put it so nicely either.

I stepped into his room, eyes dancing over the few pairs of clothes he had scattered on the floor. I hadn’t noticed them the last time I’d come barging in early in the night. Then again, my eyes had been distracted elsewhere. This time, however, there wasn’t a group of people waiting on his bed for my eyes. Instead there was only Logan.

My gaze met his at the same time he met mine, blue eyes raising even as he was bending forward. In an action I’d seen him do more times than I’d ever wanted to, he moved a rolled up bill to his right nostril. With one thumb pressing his other nostril closed he chased the white line, inhaling it as he went along. All the while he held my eyes. There was no reason for him to look to what he’d been doing. He could probably do it in his sleep after all.

He’d never change! Anger flashed through me and I strode forwards, shoving the tray from his lap in one fluid motion. One moment it was airborn and the next it landed on the rug, scattering about. The cigar box bounced open, a collection of tools breaking free from the wooden confines along with a small baggy of white powder. I’d barely had time to watch it fall before I was glaring at Logan. “Is there ever a second you aren’t doing drugs?!”

Quick as a flash he was on his feet, casing me to stumble back a step in fear. In less than a heartbeat his hand was in the air and I flinched in anticipation of his anger. “I didn’t think you’d come back.”

My eyes flashed open in surprise. There was no anger in his low husky voice, and the hand he’d raised wasn’t poised to strike me. Rather it was being pressed to his nose as he snuffled, deep blue eyes peering down at me. “I-“ I faltered, taking a step back to give him more space. I’d been sure he was about to attack me. “I brought you cake,” I finished lamely, looking down to the plate I had somehow managed to keep a hold on.

He reached forward, grabbing the paper plate without so much as a glance towards it. “Are you scared of me?” he asked, keen eyes piercing into mine.

I opened my mouth to tell him how ridiculous he was being then stopped. It was too late to lie to him, and I knew that denying it would only lead to him teasing me even more. “Yes I am Logan,” I confirmed with a nod. “Whenever it comes to you and you and your-“ my eyes flickered to the mess on his floor, “hobby you become ten times worse than usual.”

For some twisted reason this seemed to amuse him for he smirked, tilting his head slightly as he looked down to me. “And yet here you are.”

“I didn’t know what you were doing,” I defended myself, my hands darting to my hips. “Besides; I was just bringing you cake. You seemed upset you didn’t know it was my birthday, I didn’t want to know what you’d do if you missed out on cake as well.”

Something flashed behind his eyes but before I could distinguish just what it’d been it was gone. Looking to the cake in his hands, black hair covering the tops of his eyes, all I could make out was the tight lipped expression on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

“Why does it matter so much?” I snapped out instead of responding. If he was about to start another fight just because of my birthday I swear to god. . . Only he didn’t say anything to my harsh tone. Instead he met my eyes. As usual I had no idea what the look that lay within them meant. Was he angry? Frustrated? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that so far he hadn’t actually said anything rude. “I forgot about it,” I admitted, looking away feeling foolish. How could I feel guilty for being snappish after everything that had just happened in this very room?!