Lili

 Logan lives in a new four-story apartment complex across town. I haven’t seen him much in the past year, so I wasn’t sure where he lived. As my brother’s life has gone downhill, it appears Logan is making something of his.

He drives slowly, seemingly not in a rush as he navigates the quiet tree-lined street. We pass an in ground swimming pool surrounded by an iron gate, and a workout facility before reaching his building. It borders on the edge of the woods, tucked in the back of the complex. The apartments have big windows and little balconies overlooking the trees beyond. It’s charming and very peaceful. I could use some peace in my life right about now, even if it is just for one night.

Logan parks and gets out of the truck. I do the same. He's silent and as he pulls my bags from the bed of the truck and carries them to the door. I follow behind him, flooded with embarrassment. I’ve never wanted to feel like a burden and yet here I am, one hour after my brother’s sentencing, already lost and homeless. Awesome.

The apartment is clean and spacious with a nice kitchen, opening to a dining area and roomy living room where a sectional couch faces a big TV. He points out the bathroom and at the end of the hallway, pushes open the door to his bedroom.

“And this is my room.” He sweeps his hand out in front of him, urging me inside.

A queen size bed dominates the room dressed in all white, complete with several pillows and a fluffy down comforter than looks like it fell straight from heaven.

What guy makes his bed? I don’t even make my bed in the mornings. And it smells like fabric sheets in here. It’s much different than my cramped bedroom with water-stained ceiling tiles, mismatched faded sheets and flat-as-a-pancake pillow.

His hockey bag sits in the corner of the room, unzipped and a pair of thick hockey socks are hung over the back of his desk chair. It’s his last year playing for the University of Michigan team and I wonder how he feels about it. Hockey has been his life for as long as I’ve known him. He’s been studying sports medicine and I’m curious about where he’ll end up when he graduates this spring—only a couple of months away.

I wiggle my toes into the plush cream-colored carpeting and smile. “Wow. This is nice.”

Logan rubs a hand across the back of his neck and looks down at the floor. I dig my toes into the plush carpet, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.

“Thanks.” He looks up, meeting my eyes and I feel a spark of awareness at how very attractive he is jolt through me. “Now that I have my own place, I like to keep things neat.”

That I understood. Logan grew up not much different than me and Tate. Single mom, not much money, but the difference was where our mom was carefree, lax and lived to party, his was hard working and tough as nails. The discipline seemed to make all the difference in the world for how Logan turned out, versus Tate.

Even though his apartment gives off distinct bachelor pad vibes, I feel comfortable and at home here. Even more so than I did at my mom’s ratty apartment with its constantly overflowing ashtrays and cheap garage sale knick-knacks. This place is a big step up from the apartment he shared with Tate—which was always a disaster zone.

The matching white bedding, fluffy pillows, soft carpeting. Everything here is new— something I’d never had before. Pretty much everything we owned was second hand.

He shifts his weight, hesitating over whatever it is that he wants to say. "So… I know we haven't talked in a while...since..."

He doesn't say it, but I know what he means. Since that night.

The night where everything I thought I knew shifted and I started seeing my brother's friend for the sex-god that he really was. But I can't let myself think about that now, not while we're standing in his bedroom with his big, king-sized bed looming a mere four feet away. 

He clears his throat. "Anyways, I wanted to ask. What's new with you? How's school? Still majoring in legal studies?"
I nod, thankful for the change in topic. Thankful that he’s acting normal and not leering at me or something. It’s a very odd sensation to be so casual with someone you’ve slept with—especially since it was hands down the best sex of my life. But if he can fake it, so can I.

Fixing a neutral expression on my face, I nod. "Yes. I have one year left, but I'm moving to California this summer, I have an internship all lined up at a law firm there from May until September."
He runs one hand along the back of his neck. "That's great. I always knew you were destined for big things."
I smile at his compliment. Him and exactly no one else thought I was destined for anything big. I grew up poor and came from a bad area, with a bad family. But it's empowering to know that none of that is going to hold me back. I’ve busted my ass in college to finish ahead of schedule.
I'd always wanted to become an attorney, basically because it was the most badass, respected job I could think of. Well, other than being a surgeon, or something, but I can't handle the sight of blood and I pass out if I see a needle, so I didn't think cutting people open was in the cards for me.

I've poured all of my energy into school and I'm ready to take on the world. California is my chance. My clean break away from Michigan and my family. 
"As soon as spring term is done, I'm out of here,” I add.

"That's what...eight more weeks?" His dark eyebrows draw together as he does the mental math.

"Something like that."

"Well, you're more than welcome to stay here until the time comes."  

Before I have a chance to refuse his offer—eight weeks is a long time to crash somewhere—a knock on the front door interrupts our little catch up. Logan’s gaze flicks to mine and I see recognition cross his face. Is he expecting someone?

“You can set your stuff down over there.” He motions to the bench seat beneath his window, then jogs off to answer the door. I look at the window, wondering who is at his door.

Logan has a life and friends that I know nothing about. Our connection was always through Tate, but now things are different.

I hear a girl’s voice in the hall, and Logan answers her quietly. The urge to eavesdrop wells up inside me, but instead I walk across the room, tugging my bags behind me and leave them on the bench, as Logan indicated I should. I’m unsure what to do with myself now—sort of stuck in his bedroom, waiting for him.

Footsteps advance down the hall. “Oh,” the girl’s voice drops a notch lower as she stops just inside Logan’s bedroom. Her eyebrows pull together.

“This is Lili,” he says, coming in behind her. She’s tall and leggy with curves straining her tank top and her eyes are fixed on mine, looking confused. And pissed. Definitely pissed. I take a step back. “Tate’s sister,” he adds.

Her brows relax and she nods. “Hey. I’m Mandi,” she says flatly. Her hair is dyed black, but is growing in blonde at the roots and she’s a big fan of black eye liner, apparently. Logan’s face remains impassive, impossible to read. I didn’t know he had a girlfriend. Guilt and shame gnaw through me. I doubt she wants her boyfriend sharing his apartment with a past hookup.

“Hi.” I give an awkward little half wave.

Mandi continues to stare at me, unmoving. Her expression is equal parts stunned and angry and it sends my pulse climbing. But what did I really expect? Of course Logan has a girlfriend—he’s gorgeous and huge and kind.

He’s also a star on the university’s hockey team and admired by so many—guys and girls alike. I never should have assumed he was single. All the more reason why staying here with him will be impossible. I can’t imagine sleeping on the couch and having to listen to him entertain Mandi in his bedroom.

Logan runs one hand over the back of his neck, then he steps toward me, meeting my eyes with a sheepish expression. “Can you … just give us a second?”

“Of course!” I squeak. Stupid. I am the stupidest person alive. I quickly exit his bedroom, my face on fire.

The door swings closed behind me and as soon as it does, I hear Mandi whisper loudly.

“What the hell, Log? She’s staying with you?”