A Message

Her voice is nails on a chalk board to me. It radiates nothing more than vile slight of hand, always hinting at her ulterior motives. She's a liar, a cheater, but maybe she was exactly the thing I needed for a time; the one addition to my already impossibly hectic lifestyle that should push me so far over the edge of the abyss that turning on a flashlight wouldn't make a difference. I guess in that sense I might owe her a bit of thanks, owe her just a shred of some sort of gratitude.

Just kidding. I'd rather shoot myself in the foot.

But in the end I played her game, so thank you. I know by now we don't have the most conventional relationship, but you gave me the segway into this world that I had never once thought to be a part of. Seriously. You're incredible; and I figured if there was ever a time to remember what sets you apart, well... Now is most definitely the time and place.

I guess I should start by explaining that this was in no way, shape, or form, an organized meeting. I didn't request to see her here, didn't try to "conveniently" bump into her. It just sort of...happened. You and I walked into the usual spot just like we always had. You were right next to me, hand laced with mine like you were relying on me for guidance in blindness.

It was refreshing, really.

She never cared like you do, never wanted me to be the man--and I mean the real man, not the wallet. You proved that with ease the second we sat down at the bar, your hands sheepishly in your pockets the second that one of my friends approached to say high. He introduced me as, "Logan, you guys know, the star Rook from the Sharks?" and you seemed to cringe as if those words were a barrier between us.

It came like a fierce instinct to pull you into my side as if giving you an unorthodox hug and to introduce you happily as, "my amazing other half". You swallowed hard--trust me, it was noticeable. But then again, I notice almost everything about you. Your slightly lopsided smile, beautifully deep eyes, one dimple when you smile... I know I may sound creepy, I guess, but really, I feel like when I look at you I see every detail; want to remember every single particle of your being just in case I ever forget--which, might I add, I will never do because honestly, I'm so in love with you I think I've lost a bit of my manhood.

Or am I more of a man?

No, no. I'm so much more of a man than I used to be. I was so caught up in the shallow things... I mean, don't get me wrong, my standard are still disgustingly high, but they've changed to fit you, which means that they've been raised so high that I can't figure out why the hell I ever settled for someone as vile as her.

Oh. Wait.

When she walked into that dim bar, eyes lined with a coal-like black and her clothes fitted to perfection, I knew you were uncomfortable, intimidated. She had a radiant form of beauty, something seductive in even the kindest of smiles. Every blink could make me weak, but that was only because she was pretty, not because she's anything like you.

I admit that no, your glances don't make me weak. You don't make me think about the way I look every few seconds or if my hair looks okay or if I'm being cool or not or if my music is okay to listen to in front of you. God no.

You make me feel strong.

You make me feel like even if I put my finger in a light socket that my hair would be perfectly fine. Hell, my appearance is irrelevant. My music is my music, you've taught me that appearing a certain way or having some sense of swag isn't half as crucial as I treated it. (Although, I do have hella swag, if I do say so myself.)

When she approached, curling her fingers around some of my bicep and batting those harpy eyelashes at me, you squeezed my wrist and urged me on. It was because of yo that I played her game, released your hand and smirked down at her like I used to. I stared into the fire of the beast as you slowly slipped away somewhere into the shadows. And it was because of you that I had the guts to act like you and I were nothing.

"Hey, Logan," Natalia breathed with an almost sleazy kind of attraction; the same voice that used to make my knees weak.

"Hey," I returned simply, "Kind of weird running into you here."

"Who was she?"

"Someone," I answered with a playful shrug, raising my eyebrow. "Jealousy's not a great color on you, Talia."

"Save it," she spat back; and I knew she was leering at you over my shoulder, but I didn't want to beak my concentration on her by looking back at you. She immediately ran a finger up my chest and over my collar bone, up across my neck to the side of my face where she cupped my cheek. I hated that feeling she was so capable of giving; hated feeling a caged animal, cornered and helpless. But she was just so enticing, so...

"You know I've really missed you, right?" she seemed to pur, leaning her body into mine in such a way that I could feel all of her body heat radiating off her skin and through her thin clothes, but I couldn't feel any inch of her touching me. My body twitched with an unfulfilled anticipation and longing when we never did quite meet in the middle.

I swallowed hard.

"Well," I gave my best sly grin, which seemed to catch her a little off guard. It took every fiber of my being to straighten up and catch my breath. "Can't say it's mutual."

"Oh, come on." She wasn't ready to give up. Yet somehow I knew she'd be persistent in trying to get me back. It was just that knowing you were there, behind me, watching from the shadows, was such a support that I couldn't help but hold strong. "You've gotta miss those long ni--"

"Can't say I do."

"Logan?"

It was cute how jealous you looked when I turned around and saw you standing there; this plain girl with wide eyes and her bottom lip sucked into her nervous mouth. You were so mindful of Natalia, so self conscious. You had coached me through this night a thousand times, coached me on how to dress, what to say, when to say it, how to smirk, how to watch, how to breathe... You were an amazing guide through this break up, an amazing guide on how to get over a girl like her.

But you did miss something.

That night at the bar I was supposed to tell her off. I was supposed to finally wipe my hands of her and reattain the masculinity I felt like she stripped me of when she flat dumped my ass almost a month ago. You never taught me that the only thing she look away from me was my immaturity. You never taught me that sometimes it's the plain girl that acts like she knows it all, that plays an amazing coach, is the best. You never taught me what love is, either.

I just sort of... Found out for myself.

And when you turned me away from her that night and kissed me square on the mouth, I knew without a doubt that you were it. You were the reason that I felt like I didn't need to explain myself or assert anything with that girl. It's because of her that I found you, because of her that I sought out this world where not everything is beautiful, not everything is gold and silver plated or made out of money.

So, maybe I do owe her a little bit of thanks. But it's like I said; I'd shoot myself before I ever associated with her again. I'd much rather kiss you, tell you I love you, let you where the pants in the relationship every now and then, and trust that you'd never abuse what we have. I guess that's all I have to say, really.

I'll see you in a few days, hopefully after I've won the Calder Trophy. Then we can celebrate our anniversary just like I promised.

Happy anniversary.

Love,
Logan