Chapter 7- LOGAN'S P.O.V
1158 Words
Monday morning. Like clockwork, I woke at six, laced up my running shoes, and hit the pavement. The chill in the air bit at my skin, but I welcomed it. The run helped clear my mind—even if only for a little while.
By the time I got home, my mom was in the kitchen flipping pancakes, the scent of cinnamon filling the room.
“Morning, Mom,” I said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
She smiled, “Morning, sweetheart. How was your night?”
“Same as always,” I muttered, grabbing an apple.
I wasn’t about to unpack the dreams that haunted me—dreams full of stormy eyes and soft brown hair. I took a bite of the apple and jogged upstairs, locking the door behind me.
Shower. Clothes. Phone. Keys.
I was out the door in minutes.
“Logan, at least sit down and eat!” Mom called as I grabbed a slice of toast.
“This’ll do!” I shouted back, waving the toast before slipping out.
By the time I pulled into my usual parking spot at school, the place was already buzzing. Same people. Same routine. I kept my head down as I made my way to my locker, grabbed a few books, and slammed it shut.
Then—Brittany.
She latched onto me like she always did, greeting me with a kiss before I could say a word. “Good morning, baby,” she purred.
“How was your night?” she asked.
“Quiet.”
“It was boring without my baby,” she said, tracing her finger down my chest.
“Mm, I’m sure,” I said, kissing her hard, more out of habit than want.
She giggled. “Stop being naughty.”
“I’ll see you at lunch,” I told her, brushing past.
First period. I walked in and saw her—Emily—already in her seat. Her back was stiff, her fingers clutched around her pen like she was bracing for war.
I slid into the seat behind her. Just being near her made something shift in me.
Then I heard her whisper:
> “Emily, breathe. Just pretend he’s not behind you.”
I grinned.
So I was getting to her.
I leaned in, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin. “So… I’m affecting you now?”
She tensed. Her scent spiked—nerves. I could practically hear her heart skip.
“What are you doing?” she whispered without looking back.
I lowered my voice, letting my breath tease her ear. “Didn’t answer my question. Do I affect you?”
She shivered. “Logan, what are you doing?”
“Just talking.” I brushed her ear lightly as I leaned back. “Or am I distracting you?”
Suddenly, she spun around.
“Will you stop it!?” she snapped—loudly.
The entire class turned.
“Miss Parker, is there a problem?” the teacher asked.
Emily blinked, clearly realizing what just happened. “N-No, sir. I’m fine.”
The teacher nodded and went on, but the class was already giggling. Emily turned back around and glared at me like she wanted to murder me. I just chuckled.
It wasn’t nice teasing her like that.
But it made her react. It made her see me.
And for some reason, I liked that a little too much.
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EMILY’S P.O.V.
“Ughhh, what is wrong with me?” I groaned, tapping my head as I stomped to my locker.
Why did I snap at him like that in class? And in front of everyone?
I switched out my books and shut my locker with a sigh. Keep it together, Emily. You’re already the weird new girl—you don’t need to be the crazy one, too.
I walked into my next class and made a beeline for my usual seat in the back. I liked the quiet corners—less attention. Fewer whispers.
Then someone sat beside me.
“Hey,” came the familiar voice.
I turned. Teresa.
“You still remember me?” she asked with a hopeful grin.
I smiled despite myself. “Yeah. Teresa—the girl who wouldn’t stop talking to me on my first day.”
She gasped. “You remembered! Someone pinch me—I must be dreaming.”
I chuckled. “You’re being dramatic.”
We both laughed.
“You know, when we first met, I thought you didn’t like anyone,” she said.
I shrugged. “You kind of forced me to talk to you.”
“Guilty,” she said, grinning.
“Miss Young. Miss Parker,” the teacher called. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”
We snapped upright. “Sorry,” we mumbled in unison.
As soon as the period ended, Teresa grabbed her bag. “Come on, walk with me.”
We headed into the hallway, still chatting, when someone called Teresa’s name.
A tall girl with sleek brown hair and sharp eyes walked over, smiling.
“Diane!” Teresa waved. “Diane, meet Emily. Emily, this is Diane.”
“Nice to meet you,” Diane said, extending her hand.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said, shaking it.
Teresa groaned dramatically. “Ugh, not fair.”
“What now?” Diane asked, rolling her eyes.
“She likes you instantly. It took me days to get her to talk to me.”
I laughed awkwardly.
Diane rolled her eyes. “Teresa, stop making her feel weird.”
“She is weird,” Teresa teased.
I giggled. “You’re both weird.”
They laughed, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel out of place.
“Come to the cafeteria with us,” Diane offered.
My stomach twisted. Cafeteria. Tables. Stares. Whispers.
I hesitated.
“You don’t have to,” Teresa said gently. “Seriously.”
I looked at both of them, their patience, their quiet support—and I nodded.
“Okay.”
They smiled.
I stopped by my locker, took a deep breath, and followed them to the cafeteria.
As soon as we stepped inside, it was like time froze. Heads turned. Whispers started.
My pulse quickened.
Then, from a table near the back, a voice rang out:
“Y’all never seen someone walk through a door before?”
Just like that, the tension broke. People went back to their food and conversations.
We walked toward the voice—toward the table. A tall guy with black hair was staring at his phone like nothing had happened. Two others were locked in a heated football debate.
“Hey, guys,” Diane said as we sat down.
No response. Not even a glance.
And strangely, I was glad for that.
Because no one was whispering.
No one was staring.
And for the first time since I got here…
I wasn’t sitting alone.
- Writer
