The Fire Between High & Lo
Page 4

I held my hand up to her mouth, halting her words. “Before you say what you’re about to say, don’t.” I lowered my hand, and she remained quiet. “I told you from day one who I was. It’s your own fault for thinking you could change me.”
“You’re never going to be happy with anyone, are you? Because you are so strung up on a girl that you’ll never have. You’re going to end up sad, alone, and bitter. Then you’ll figure out what you had when you were with me!”
“Can you just leave?” I sighed, brushing my hand against my face. I blamed Alyssa for this.
“Break up with her in person, Lo. That’s the only way a real man would do it. You can’t break up with someone over the phone.”
She had some awful ideas, sometimes.
Shay kept crying.
God, those tears.
I couldn’t handle the tears.
After a few snotty sniffles, she glanced to the ground before holding her head high, a spark of confidence finding her. “I think we should break up.”
I appeared shocked. “Break up?” We already did!
“I just feel like we’re two people going in two opposite directions.”
“Okay,” I said.
Her fingers flew over my lips and she shushed me, even though I wasn’t talking. “Don’t be so emotional about it. I’m so sorry, Logan. But it’s just not going to work out.”
I snickered internally at her, making it seem like the breakup was her idea. I stepped back and placed my hands on my neck. “You’re right. You’re too good for me.”
Why are you still here?
She moved over to me and brushed her fingertips across my lips. “You’ll find someone good. I know it. I mean, granted, she might look like an ape, but still.” She jogged toward her car, opened the door, and climbed inside. As the car pulled off, my gut tightened, and regret overtook me. I started sprinting toward her car in the pouring rain, shouting her name.
“Shay! Shay!” I waved my hands into the darkness, running for at least five blocks before she came up to a red light. I banged on her driver’s window and she screamed, out of fright.
“Logan! What the heck are you doing?!” she cried, rolling down her window. Her confusion turned into a proud smirk and she narrowed her eyes. “You want to get back together, don’t you? I knew it.”
“I…” I huffed. I wasn’t an athlete at all, that was more of my brother’s field of expertise. I tried to catch my breath, holding my hands against the edge of her window. “I—I…ne-need…”
“You need what? What, baby? What do you need?” she asked, running her hand gently against my cheek.
“Pie.”
She sat back, confused. “What?”
“Pie. My pie supplies that we bought earlier. They’re in the back of your car.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?!” she screeched. “You chased me down for blocks and blocks for pie ingredients?!”
I arched an eyebrow. “Um, yeah?”
She reached into the back of her car, snatched the bag up, and slammed it against my chest. “You are so unbelievable! Here’s your stupid crap!”
I smirked. “Thanks.”
Her car pulled off and I couldn’t help but laugh when I heard her shout, “You owe me twenty bucks for that goat cheese!”
The second I stepped foot into my apartment, I pulled out my cell phone and sent a text.
Me: Next time I break up with a girl, I’m doing it via text message.
Alyssa: That bad?
Me: Dreadful.
Alyssa: I feel bad for her. She really liked you.
Me: She cheated on me!
Alyssa: And yet you still found a way to sleep with her three times.
Me: Whose side are you on?
Ellipses.
Alyssa: She’s such a monster! I’m so happy she’s out of your life. No one deserves to date such a psychotic person. She’s disgusting. I hope she accidentally steps on Lego pieces for the remainder of her life.
There was the response I needed.
Alyssa: Love you, best friend.
I read her words, and tried to ignore the pull in my chest. Love you. I never said those kinds of things to people, not even to Ma or Kellan. But sometimes, when Alyssa Marie Walters said she loved me, I kind of wished I could say it back.
But I didn’t love.
I hardly liked.
At least that was the lie I told myself daily to keep from getting hurt. Most people thought love was a reward, but I knew better than that. I’d seen my mom love my father for years now, and nothing good ever came from it. Love wasn’t a blessing, it was a curse, and once you invited it into your heart, it only left scorch marks.
Chapter Two
Alyssa
Me: Hey, Dad. Just checking in to see about you coming to the piano recital.
Me: Hey! Did you see my last text?
Me: Hey, me again. Just texting to see if you’re okay. Erika and I are worried.
Me: Dad?
Me: ??
Me: Are you still awake, Lo?
I stared at my cell phone, my heart pounding in my chest as I sent the text message to Logan. I checked the time, sighing heavily.
2:33 a.m.
I should’ve been sleeping, but I was thinking about Dad again. I’d sent him a total of fifteen text messages in the past two days, and ten voicemails, yet I still hadn’t heard back from him.
I lay my phone against my chest, taking deep inhales and exhales. When it started vibrating, I was quick to answer. “You should be sleeping,” I whispered through the phone receiver, secretly happy that he answered. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“What’s wrong?” Logan asked, ignoring my question.
A light giggle escaped my lips. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“Alyssa,” he said, stern.
“Ass-Crack didn’t call me back. I called him twenty times this week, and he didn’t call me back.” Ass-Crack was the name we’d graced my dad with after he walked out on our family. He and I had been extremely close, the two musicians of the family, and when he left, a part of me floated away with him. I didn’t talk about him a lot, but even though I never said the words, Logan always knew that it bothered me.
“Forget about him. He’s a piece of trash.”
“I have the biggest summer piano recital of my career coming up, and I don’t know if I can do it without him there.” I tried my best to keep my emotions in check. I tried my best not to cry, but I was losing the fight that night. I worried about him more than Mom and Erika did. Maybe because they never really understood who he was, as an artist, as a performer. The two of them had very reality-based minds that came with a lot of stability—Dad and I were kind of floating spirits, dancing in the wildfires.