NOT A DATE
1694 Words
CHAPTER 04
Ava stared at her reflection for what felt like the hundredth time. She wasn’t the type to stress over outfits—especially not for a hangout that wasn’t a date. Logan had said it himself: “Just… hang out.” No pressure. No labels.
And yet here she was, standing in her dorm room with three tops draped over her bed, half her closet on the floor, and the cursed guitar pick still tucked in the pocket of her jeans like some secret charm.
She finally settled on a simple black T-shirt and her favorite denim jacket, paired with sneakers that had definitely seen better days. Casual. Unassuming. Unimpressed. Totally not flustered.
Totally not dressing up for Logan Reid.
She grabbed her phone, texted her roommate that she was out, and headed toward the campus courtyard where they’d agreed to meet. It was early evening again, the sky tinged with pink and gold, the air smelling faintly of fresh-cut grass and spring blossoms.
Logan was already there, of course.
He leaned against his car, which was somehow too nice to be owned by a high school senior. Midnight blue, sleek, and probably fast enough to break ten laws just turning a corner. He wore ripped black jeans, a grey hoodie layered under a leather jacket, and a smirk that made her pulse skip.
“You’re late,” he teased.
“You said five. It’s four fifty-nine.”
“I live for drama, Sinclair. Let me have my moment.”
She rolled her eyes but grinned as he opened the passenger door for her.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You’ll see.”
“Is this the part where I regret getting into a car with a boy who’s probably broken hearts in five different time zones?”
“Six, actually,” he replied. “But don’t worry. I’m trying to be reformed.”
The drive was quiet at first, filled with music from his playlist—soft indie tracks mixed with acoustic covers. She recognized some of them from rehearsal. Others she didn’t, but they all had a mood to them—melancholy, hopeful, intimate.
Like him.
“So,” Logan said after a few minutes, “did you grow up around here?”
“Sort of. Bounced around after my mom died. Different relatives. Different towns. Ended up staying with an aunt until I got the scholarship.”
“That sounds… rough.”
“It was.” She shrugged. “But I had music. Church. Singing. That got me through.”
He nodded like he understood more than he was letting on. She could tell he didn’t push for more details. And for some reason, that made her feel a little lighter like she didn’t have to explain everything to him. There was something in the way he listened that made the heavy parts of her past feel just a little less heavy.
They turned down a winding road, trees thick on either side, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Ava wondered where they were going—this wasn’t a place she recognized. But she felt oddly safe. Not just in the physical sense but emotionally. The awkward, insecure version of herself wasn’t allowed here, and she realized she was grateful for that.
She glanced over at him. Logan wasn’t talking anymore. He was lost in his own thoughts, his eyes focused on the road. His jaw was set, and his hands gripped the steering wheel like he was trying to control something just out of reach.
She wanted to ask if everything was okay, but the silence between them felt too precious to break. So, instead, she waited.
And in the silence, she let herself remember what it had felt like last night. The soft strum of his guitar, the way they found harmony together without even trying, and how close their voices had come to merging.
“Do you always run from your family?” she asked quietly, breaking the silence.
Logan didn’t answer right away. He just kept driving, his eyes straight ahead. The question had slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it, but it felt important to ask. To understand him.
“I don’t run,” he finally said, his voice softer than before. “I just… escape.”
Ava didn’t press. He was letting her in, but only to a certain degree. And she was okay with that. She wasn’t going to push him to reveal more than he was comfortable with.
“Escape how?” she asked, keeping her voice even.
He glanced at her then, a brief, unreadable look. “I leave. I take a break. They want me to be something I’m not, and I don’t have the energy to pretend anymore.”
“What do they want you to be?” Ava pressed, her curiosity burning.
“They want me to be their idea of success,” he said, his tone hardening. “They want the son who takes over the family company. Who wears the suit, signs the papers, and doesn’t ask questions. The one who follows the rules.” He let out a soft, humorless laugh. “But that’s not me. And it never will be.”
She felt a deep ache in her chest as she listened, his words striking a chord in her. She hadn’t realized how much of him she’d assumed, how much she’d placed in the category of “bad boy” without even questioning what had made him that way. He was pushing back against something bigger than her—something bigger than them both.
He was surviving in a world that had set expectations for him that he didn’t believe in.
She wanted to say something. To tell him that she saw him, all of him—not just the boy with the rebellious smile or the guitar player with a careless streak. But the words didn’t come. Instead, she just nodded and let the silence stretch between them again.
They pulled up to a quiet overlook just outside of town, the view of a sprawling expanse of the city below them, the lights flickering like a thousand tiny stars. Ava let out a slow breath, taking in the scene. It was beautiful here—breathtaking, even. A peaceful contrast to the chaos of her mind.
She couldn’t help but wonder how someone like Logan, with all his wealth and privilege, ended up here, in this unassuming place. It wasn’t a fancy restaurant or some exclusive venue. It was just a spot where the world felt far away, and all that mattered was the view.
Logan killed the engine and turned to her, his eyes lingering for a second too long, as if he was waiting for her to say something. But she didn’t know what to say. There was no script for moments like this—when the person sitting beside you wasn’t what you expected, but still made sense in a way that defied logic.
“Do you come here often?” she asked, breaking the silence.
He shrugged, not looking at her as he leaned back in his seat. “Sometimes. It’s quiet. Helps me think.”
Ava studied him for a moment. His messy hair, the stubble along his jawline, the way he always seemed to be running away from something. She felt this strange pull to understand him—to break through whatever wall he’d put up. But she also knew better than to force it. People had their reasons for keeping things hidden, and she wasn’t going to push him into revealing his past if he wasn’t ready.
“Do you ever feel like no matter where you go, you’re just running in circles?” she asked, her voice quiet.
He looked over at her, eyebrows raised. “You mean like how we’re both avoiding our own messes?”
Ava chuckled softly. “I wasn’t going to put it quite like that, but yeah. Something like that.”
Logan smiled, but it was a distant one—like he was seeing something she couldn’t. “Yeah. All the time.”
They climbed out of the car and sat on the hood, both of them leaning back and looking at the night sky. It was silent for a while, just the two of them under a vast blanket of stars.
“So,” Logan said after a while, “did you grow up around here?”
“Sort of. Bounced around after my mom died. Different relatives. Different towns. Ended up staying with an aunt until I got the scholarship.”
“That sounds… rough.”
“It was.” She shrugged. “But I had music. Church. Singing. That got me through.”
He nodded like he understood more than he was letting on. She could tell he didn’t push for more details. And for some reason, that made her feel a little lighter like she didn’t have to explain everything to him. There was something in the way he listened that made the heavy parts of her past feel just a little less heavy.
They turned down a winding road, trees thick on either side, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Ava wondered where they were going—this wasn’t a place she recognized. But she felt oddly safe. Not just in the physical sense but emotionally. The awkward, insecure version of herself wasn’t allowed here, and she realized she was grateful for that.
She glanced over at him. Logan wasn’t talking anymore. He was lost in his own thoughts, his eyes focused on the road. His jaw was set, and his hands gripped the steering wheel like he was trying to control something just out of reach.
She wanted to ask if everything was okay, but the silence between them felt too precious to break. So, instead, she waited.
And in the silence, she let herself remember what it had felt like last night. The soft strum of his guitar, the way they found harmony together without even trying, and how close their voices had come to merging.
- Writer
