He moved in to kiss me again, but I ducked and move out the way.

 "Quit fucking kissing me!" I was more forceful this time. My emotions were all over the place.

 I don't want him.

 I can't want him.

 Not anymore.

 He chuckled.

 Fucking chuckled.

 "No." I almost yelled. "This shit's not funny, Matthews." My voice cracked, I didn't mean it to, but it did. And before I knew it, I was crying.

 Logan

 She was crying and I don't know what the fuck just happened. I reached out to her but she swatted my hand away.

 "I let you get to me again. You almost fucking had me," she mumbled to herself, shaking her head and wiping her tears.

 "Amanda," I said, trying to soothe her. I tentatively put my hand on her waist, and brought the other to her face, wiping the tears. Her big blue eyes looked up at me. She licked her lips.

 I went to kiss her again.

 Because obviously I wasn't thinking with my head.

 She pushed me away.

 Then her hands were on my shoulders as she maneuvered me to a corner of the room. "Stay there," she said. "And quit fucking kissing me." She walked over to the opposite corner, and stood with her back to the wall.

 We were as far from each other as physically possible.

 "What happened just now?" I asked her. I was so fucking confused.

 "Something that shouldn't have."

 "You keep saying that, but I don't feel like that. To me, it felt pretty fucking-"

 "Stop," she said. "Just please. Stop."

 I watched as her body gave in and dropped to the floor.

 I didn't know what the fuck to do. One second we were making out and was hot as hell. The next second—this.

 I was cautious as I took steps closer to her. I squatted in front of her so I could see her better. "Hey, what's wrong?" I hoped it came out concerned, and not that I thought that she was acting bat-shit fucking crazy.

 When her eyes met mine, she no longer looked sad. She looked—determined, maybe? "What happened, Matthews, is that I already let you break my heart once."

 Then she stood up, adjusted her dress, and walked out of the room.

 I didn't call her name.

 I didn't stop her.

 I didn't follow her.

 I just sat there, in a dark room, feeling sorry for myself.

 Because as much as I tried to convince myself over the last year or so, that she didn't care—or that she wouldn't care—in just a few words she proved me completely wrong.

 She felt it too.

 She felt everything I did.

TEN

 -Past-

 The date.

 Start of summer, pre college

 Logan: 7 days to go.

 Amanda: Really, asshole? A countdown?

 Logan: 6 days to go. I bet you can't wait to see me.

 Amanda: I'm already regretting this.

 Logan: 5 days to go. OMG! What am I going to wear?

 Amanda: I thought I told you not to contact me for a week.

 Logan: 4 days to go. Seriously though, what do you want to do?

 Amanda: Not go on a date with you?

 Logan: 3 days to go. I'm getting pretty fucking excited to see you.

 Amanda: Shut up.

 Logan: 2 days to go. Just thought I would remind you, in case you had forgotten.

 Amanda: Who is this?

 Logan: 1 day to go. I'll call you tomorrow.

 Amanda: I'll be busy.

 Logan: I'm calling you in 5 minutes. You better answer. You promised my 'nephew' a date with me.

 Amanda: Fine!

 Even though she asked me not to, I texted her every day, several times a day, for the week leading up to our date. She replied with smartass answers every time. If ever there was a sign that we would connect as well as we did, that should have been it.

 "Hello?" she answered on the first ring. It had just hit eight in the morning, and even though it was summer, my body had gotten used to getting up at six for a morning run and training. I skipped the run. I had no training. I sat with my phone in my hand until it seemed like a decent hour to call.

 "Hey, pretty girl," I replied. I tried to hide the nerves that had taken over from just hearing her voice. "What time should I pick you up?"

 "Oh." She sounded surprised. "I thought you were just messing with me. I didn't know you were serious about taking me out."

 I had no idea how she got to that conclusion. "Nope." I faked airiness in my tone. "Completely serious. So?"

 "Um."

 I waited.

 And waited.

 Finally, "I have to work. But I finish at five—if you want to pick me from there? But honestly, you don't have to. I mean—"

 "Five? I'll be there."

 Silence.

 "Amanda?"

 "Yeh?"

 "I'm really looking forward to seeing you again." Truth.

 ***

 I showed up to her work fifteen minutes late, just to prove that I hadn't been sitting around waiting to leave.

 She sat on a bench looking down at her phone. She probably assumed I wouldn't show.

 Valid.

 She stood up and walked towards my car. She'd changed out of her work uniform and into tight fitting jeans and even tighter tank. Fuck. Her body was out of this fucking world.

 "Quit the eye fuck, Matthews," she said, taking a seat and pulling on the belt.

 She had fire. "You know what I like about you?"

 "My tits?"

 My eyes rose from her tits. "Huh?"

 She laughed once. "Jesus, this isn't awkward at all."

 I laughed with her, pulled away from the curb, and started driving to the restaurant.

 I eyed her sideways. "Well, let's not do that. Make it awkward, I mean."

 "Yeah? How are we not going to do that?"

 I glanced at her quickly, smirking. "Well, I could pull the car over right now and we could just make out, so we don't have to worry about it later. Maybe you can let me cop a feel. Get to first base, you know?"

 She laughed out loud.

  I was thankful she found it funny, because that really could have gone either way.

 "Okay, Romeo."

 I laughed at her. Wait. "Huh? What do you mean 'okay'?"

 "Pull over, let's get this awkwardness out of the way. I think you're right. I mean, what if you're a shit kisser? At least we'll know now, right? So let's go." She rubbed her hands together and rolled her shoulders.

 I glanced over at her, trying to work out whether she was kidding.

 She laughed. “Pull over already."