Just Say You're Not Into It.

Logan kept his word. He didn't leave me alone. Instead, he held me as I drunkenly cried to him. He laid with me, kissing my forehead, running his fingers through my hair. He was careful with me, as though I might break at any moment. We were different people. Logan and myself. Our inhibitions and walls had been pushed down, due to the alcohol. And for the first time in the eight years we'd been associating with each other, I finally felt like I knew Logan Henderson. He was more than the smart, sarcastic, witty boy I'd grown to "know" over the years. He didn't press the topic of my self mutilation, and for that I was thankful. As I drifted into sleep, two thoughts were prominent in my mind.

One: This was a one night deal. When I woke up tomorrow morning, Logan and I would go back to normal. Back to being strangers to each other.

Two: I wanted to kiss him one more time before that.

I didn't do it though. Instead, I moved away from him, wrapping myself up in the sheets and all the emotions I decided to keep to myself, and drifted out of consciousness.