opens his mouth to answer me, but I don’t let him speak. Instead, I press my lips to his. He goes tense, and for a second I think he’s going to pull away, but then he falls into the kiss with me. He runs his palms over my bare shoulders as I wrap my arm around his neck, and I could seriously just melt away.
When I pull back, his content sigh echoes over the speakers. Ben must have turned the mic on from the control board when the song ended, which, by the look on some of the faces around us, was a long time ago.
#31
Most of the stores have packed up their booths and gone home by the time the crickets start chirping. I hang around to help put away all The Phoenix’s merchandise. At some point before the job is finished, poor little Moira zonks out in the office, so Martha, Mr. Scott, and the rest of the clan go home, leaving Logan and me to lock up the shop.
We pass each other five or six times as we lug the long, white comic boxes back to the storeroom. It feels like we’re two magnets being held just close enough to almost connect, but then we’re pulled apart.
“There’s one more left,” Logan says as we pass each other again. “Could you lock the door behind you when you come back in?”
The last box isn’t that heavy. It was the super cheap box so it’s only half-full of one-dollar comics. I lock the front door behind me and make my way to the back room again. The sun is setting. Its pinkish-purplish rays stream in through the display windows, but the light doesn’t reach the back.
I turn the corner to the back room and try to find the light switch with my elbow. I can’t find it, but suddenly, the light pops on. Logan’s right next to me, which scares the bejesus out of me. I squeal and drop the box. The books scatter across the floor.
“Sorry,” he says. “I was trying to be smooth and help. But once again, I screw it up.”
We both kneel down to gather up the comics. “What do you mean ‘once again’?”
“I screwed up that day with Eric.”
“That was my fault. You didn’t screw anything up.” My hands shake as I stack the books. “I’m sorry, Logan.” I let out a long sigh. It feels like I’ve been waiting to say that for years.
He doesn’t belittle my apology by brushing it off, by saying anything like, “It’s okay, it’s no biggie.” He lets it hang in the air for a long minute, then nods, accepting it.
“I did mess up last night, though,” he says. “Where did you go?”
I give up on trying to concentrate on the comics. “I went home. Where did you go?”
“I knew I should have told you before I left, but everything was so crazy. I went to my house to get something for you, but you were gone by the time I got back to Tommy’s.” He reaches over to get my notebook that was lying on one of the boxes. I didn’t even notice it was there.
He holds it out to me. “Thanks,” I say as I thumb through the pages. There’s now green writing along with my purple throughout it.
I stop on one page: The Super Ones #328. Underneath where I wrote, Marcus is such a jerk! Can’t he tell Wendy loves him? Logan wrote, in his neat, precise scrawl, How is Marcus supposed to know if she doesn’t tell him? He has plasma powers, not telepathy.
“I hope you don’t mind that I put a few things in there.” He scoots closer so he can read over my shoulder.
I shake my head, too busy reading all the green ink I can find and trying to focus past my sheer delight at him being so close to me. I flip to the #400 entry.
Purple: “Be true to yourself and others will be true to you, too.” Yeah right, what a crock.
Green: I’d be true to you no matter what.
I look at him over my shoulder. He’s smiling that honest smile.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask. “I’m not exactly the most stable person. I’m still getting used to this whole being myself thing and—”
“I know what type of person you are. You’re the girl who picked the longest book Mrs. Mackley listed in ninth grade Honors English to do a report on because it mentioned a love story