The Logan Brothers

Chapter 6 - Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

Chapter 6 - Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

A week passed, and then another, and I had still not spoken to Wesley. He hadn't come over at all like he usually did, and he hadn't texted me. We hadn't been apart for so long since we were six, and the effects were starting to take a toll on me. I was bored, I was grumpy, and overall just depressed. Not to mention I was PMSing, which never helped anything.

I was too much of a coward to call him. Fear had taken over my body, and every time I picked up the phone I would start shaking like a Chihuahua. So, I had taken to holing up in my room, watching Grey's Anatomy on Netflix twenty-four seven. Leah had tried to be understanding at first, but after a week of my reserved attitude, she gave up on me. Every day she texted to make sure I was still alive, but she didn't come over anymore.

Essentially, I was alone, with Derek and Meredith's constant relationship trouble to keep me company. My mom was gone most of the day unless she had the night shift, which meant the majority of the time I just brought her food and let her get some sleep. She was doing better after her patient's death, but it was still hard for her to go back to the hospital.

I was even starting to miss Grayson's pranks, which, I'll admit, was an all-time low. Never had I ever missed the oldest Logan, in fact, usually, I saw too much of him. It had been radio silence from the Logan household for two weeks, and finally, I decided enough was enough. I was doing something we hadn't done in years, something that had sorta fallen apart the moment my mother realized the true extent of my torture from Grayson.

I was inviting the Logan's over for dinner.

It used to happen all the time when we were younger, but, as most things go, it just happened less and less often until we forgot about it altogether. But I had to find a way to make amends with Wes, and this seemed like my best chance. Even if I had momentarily felt something for Wesley, my fear of losing him had officially shocked it out of my system. Those feelings were gone, and they weren't coming back.

And so, on Tuesday morning I hurried downstairs, just catching my mom before she rushed out the door. "Mom, when will you be home today?" I asked, handing her the iPhone she had almost left on the coffee table, again.

She sighed, "I don't know, Imogen. I have surgery today, it could be late." She looked exhausted, more so than usual, with her hair tied in a messy bun and her dark green scrubs wrinkled. My heart went out to her, she really was going through a lot of stress, and I was about to add to it.

"Oh, okay. Well, would it be okay for me to invite the Logan's over for dinner?" Her face morphed into a frown, and I knew a 'no' was about to fly past her lips. Hurriedly, I said, "I'll do all the work! I'll clean, I'll cook, I'll invite them over. All you have to do is show up at some point tonight and eat some food. Please?" I gave her my best puppy dog eyes, pleading for her permission. Come on, mom, don't you get this is my friendship on the line?

After a small hesitation, she caved, "Fine, but make something I like." Squealing, I threw my arms around her and gave her a bone crushing hug. "Don't get too excited, my house better be spotless by the time I get home."

"Don't worry, it will be!" I assured her, scooping her giant purse from the ground, "Now go, you're going to be late!" She gave me a kiss on the cheek and then disappeared out the door, leaving me alone in my house.

Now, I wasn't a big cleaner, and my mom had been too busy, which meant my home was essentially more or less a pigsty. There were dirty dishes galore, and a thick layer of dust had settled on every surface of the house. I had to clean the floors, bathrooms, and everything in between before sophisticated parents such as the Logan's could enter my household.

And so I cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned. I scrubbed the dishes, I mopped the floors, and I washed the bathrooms until they were squeaky clean. I dusted the furniture, I vacuumed the carpet, and I straightened all the pillows on the couch. When I was done our house looked like it belonged in a magazine, and I was proud of myself for that.

It had taken a total of three hours to make my house perfect, which meant it was nearing one o'clock in the afternoon. If I was going to make this all happen, I needed to get over there and actually ask the Logan's if they wanted to have dinner with me. But I was scared, terrified even, to show my face at my neighbor's house.

First, I made myself presentable. I had a feeling that the pajamas and my sweaty body was a side of me Mr. and Mrs. Logan did not want to see. I applied makeup and put on a cream-colored sundress, letting my hair fall in its natural waves around my shoulders.

Naomi Logan was a stickler for looks, which was probably why she had picked Rick Logan as her husband. He had been the 'coolest kid in school' at one point, and I'll admit, was still a pretty attractive man, even in his older age. Don't get me wrong, they were sweet people, they just knew they had some money and knew they were attractive. Sometimes, it went to their heads.

My heart was racing as I walked down the sidewalk towards the house I had visited so often as a child. If Grayson or Wesley opened the door, I would've no doubt lost my lunch I had scarfed down before hurrying out the door. There were no words I could think of that would've appeased Grayson's hatred towards me, and seeing Wesley would've been purely awkward. I wasn't mentally prepared for that situation, yet.

Luckily, Mrs. Logan opened the door with a smile on her face, and neither of her boys were in sight. They were in the house, though. I could hear the unmistakable sound of videogame gunfire vibrating through the house. "Oh, hello dear," Mrs. Logan looked slightly startled, but quickly recovered by opening the door wider for me to come inside. "I'll call Wesley for you."

"Oh no, that's alright!" I quickly exclaimed, reaching out instinctively. I grabbed her arm as if to stop her from moving an inch. Her eyes widened, and she looked from my grip on her body part to my face, trying to make sense of my actions. Blushing, I released her arm and looked to the ground. "Um, I just came over to invite your family over for dinner."

She frowned, "Will Helen be there? I know she's been busy with that doctor stuff these days." The way she said doctor stuff made me want to punch her. It was like my mother was less of a person because she actually worked and was saving lives.

Instead of causing her physical harm, I smiled politely, "She will be, but she may be a little late because she's not sure when her shift ends. But then you two could catch up again! I know she misses you." Okay, so maybe that was a lie. My mother often said that Naomi was too prissy, but hey, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

That coaxed a smile out of her, "I've missed her too. Well look, Hun, we have a thing until eight, but we'd be happy to come over after. Say, eight thirty?" Mentally, I calculated everything. That would give me plenty of time to cook, and for my mom to get home in time.

"That's perfect," I beamed. After a quick, awkward hug, Mrs. Logan sent me on my way. I made her promise that both boys would be there, mainly because I had to talk with Grayson and Wesley.

Wesley and I had some...things to sort out before we could go back to our usual, casual friendship. And as for Grayson, well, I just had to figure out what the hell was his problem.

It scared me half to death to think about confronting Grayson. In fact, I was half sure I would chicken out of it, and then just shove some form of dessert down his throat in an attempt to appease him long enough so that he wouldn't kill me. But he had acted weird since he had found out I had been feeling things for Wes, and he had cooled it on the torture front, so something was up.

But I must've been kidding myself because I knew I wouldn't be brave enough to talk with either boy. In the best case scenario, we would all have a very awkward dinner where our parents would be oblivious to our strange behaviors. I could see it now, I would stuff my mouth for an hour and a half straight while the adults talked, just so I could avoid eye contact.

No Imogen, stop, I told myself as I climbed into my car. This had to be done. It didn't matter if I was literally peeing my pants, I had to at least talk to Wesley. If I didn't, he would never speak to me again, and I wouldn't have been able to live with myself knowing I had ruined a perfectly good friendship.

Even though I was internally shaking, I was holding it together pretty well on the outside. I'm fairly certain no one in Walmart knew I was about two seconds away from a mental breakdown. I had decided to make a chicken, and have potato salad and green beans as sides. After I had gathered all of the ingredients, I piled them in my car and started my drive home.

On the way, though, I stopped at a cupcake store. I had to have some kind of dessert, and why not cupcakes? They were cheery, happy in a way. There was no one on the planet who didn't like cupcakes, except for maybe the weirdoes. I loved cupcakes, and I was pretty sure everyone else would like them, too.

As I walked in, I saw Elsie standing behind the counter. She had a huge grin on her face and didn't hesitate to greet me. "Hey Imogen, funny seeing you here!" Oh my god, this girl was everywhere. I had half a mind to turn around and get something else for dessert, but she had already seen me, there was no getting out of it.

"Hey, Elsie," I said hesitantly, walking towards her. "I didn't know you worked here."

"Oh yeah, I've worked here since I was sixteen," She giggled, leaning against the glass case full of cupcakes. "It doesn't pay all that well, but, you know, every penny counts." Oh yeah, I knew that. I was constantly hearing from my mother how long it would take her to pay for medical school. "Anyway, what brings you here today?"

"Um, I need some cupcakes," I said, pointing to the very obvious deserts in front of us. She blushed and nodded her head, opening up the case. "I need six, just grab a bunch of different flavors and that'll be fine." Elsie quickly complied, obviously embarrassed. I felt bad, in a way, but she set herself up for it.

As she calculated the price, she said, "So hey, you should write down your number, and we can hang out sometime. It'll be fun!" My stomach dropped a little, and I froze. I didn't know what to do. Denying would be rude, but I didn't want this girl to have my number. I was no good with people, having friends was not my forte.

But looking into her big brown eyes, I just couldn't say no. It was clear she was lonely and just needed a friend, a feeling I was all too familiar with at one point in my life. So I grabbed a napkin and scribbled down my number, convincing myself that it wouldn't kill me to make a new friend. Most people have several, just because I was content with my one didn't mean I wouldn't enjoy another.

She grinned widely, "Thanks so much! I work all week, but maybe this weekend we can get together."

"Sure," I promised, taking the cupcakes from her hands. If my lack of enthusiasm was obvious Elsie chose not to comment on it, and instead waved at me as I made my way out of the cupcake shop. Not ten seconds later my phone vibrated in my pocket, and I didn't have to look to know exactly who had texted me.

†

Cooking had taken longer than anticipated. It was nearing eight o'clock as I put the finishing touches on the table arrangement, and the chicken was still in the oven. Honestly, I had no clue how long a freaking chicken was supposed to cook. I had looked it up online, but when the timer went off it was still pink on the inside. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that means it's raw.

My mom walked in the door at ten till eight. When I heard the door close, I yelled, "Mom, you're just in time! They'll be here any minute!" I grabbed a mug of coffee of the counter that I had prepared for her and scooped up the bottle of ibuprofen. I knew she would have a headache, so I was prepared.

She came around the corner slowly, "Not so loud, Hun. God, my head hurts." She collapsed in a chair, her head in her hands. Quickly, I set the medicine and caffeine down in front of her.

"Here you go. I'll go pick out something for you to wear." Hurriedly, I kissed her on the cheek and ran up the stairs. Time was of the essence, I had no clue when the Logan's would be arriving, but I had to be ready. We both did.

"I didn't know this was a fancy dinner party!" She called after me, sounding a little annoyed. I winced slightly, deciding on my next words carefully.

"You know Mrs. Logan, everything's fancy with her." I didn't get a response, but hopefully, my mother had calmed down enough to just be presentable for one night. She would be on call the next morning, I knew that, so this evening couldn't go too late, or I would've had my head chopped off in the morning.

As I shuffled around in my mom's closet, I heard her making some racket in the kitchen. I hoped she was fixing my attempted meal because god knows it needed some assistance. Hell, I needed some assistance in that department. I was useless and was fully convinced I would make a terrible wife someday.

Just as I was laying out a classy, dark red dress, my mom came into the room. "Imogen, I swear, I don't know what to do with you. You almost burnt the house down!" My heart leaped, and I gulped.

"Did I burn the chicken? Oh god, please tell me I didn't" I said, twisting my hair nervously. The whole evening would've been ruined if there was no chicken. Of course, I suppose I could've served our guests microwavable chicken fingers. Mrs. Logan would not have approved, though.

My mother gave me a chastising look, "No. Almost, but I saved it." I sighed, lunging forward and giving her a big hug. If it hadn't been for her, I would've screwed so many things up. She was my rock, my salvation through life. I swear, I would never have made it past my fifth birthday if it wasn't for her.

"Thanks, mom," I muttered, squeezing her tight. She patted my back a couple of times before pulling away and grabbing the dress off the bed.

"You better go and put the food on the table, it'll be easier for all of us to serve ourselves." Mom said, ducking into the kitchen. Again, my point is proven. I hadn't even thought about putting our meal on the dinner table, I was just going to have everyone serve themselves from the pots and pans I had cooked in.

"Don't drop the chicken!" My mom called after me as I hurried down the stairs. So little faith in me, I thought, rolling my eyes. I'll admit, though, that as I was walking towards the dining room table, I almost lost my footing and let the chicken fly through the air. Barley, just barely, I caught myself, and set it on the table safely.

Unfortunately, my mom was standing in the doorway with a smirk, "Don't think I didn't see that," She chuckled, shaking her head at me. "Maybe this is my fault, I should've signed you up for edict classes."

"Shut up," I muttered, lowering my head. It wasn't that I was embarrassed or anything, it was that with every breath I took I felt like I was going to throw up. The dinner was moments away, which meant my confrontation with both Logan boys was nearing. I didn't know what I was going to say to either, I had no plan and I had no course of action. Basically, I was screwed.

Just as I set the green beans on the table, the doorbell rang. I froze, breath hitching. This was it, the moment of truth. I was starting to think it had been a stupid idea, but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, and I was the very definition of desperate. I followed my mom to the door and stood back a few steps as she pulled it open.

And it was like time froze. Both Mr. and Mrs. Logan came in quickly, looking fabulous as always. They carried themselves a certain way to where you knew they were better than you, but they still cared about you and were willing to be your friend. I was vaguely aware of Mrs. Logan giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but my main focus was on the two people who had just stepped through the doorway.

Wesley was wearing black dress pants, a white dress shirt, and a bright blue tie which he had loosened around his neck. His hair was slicked back nicely. Grayson was wearing the same attire, except he had lost his tie and was wearing a nice suit jacket, and his hair was perfectly messy as always. Both boys did not look very pleased to be in my house.

And then I realized I had made a humongous, monumental mistake.