"That was two aisles, Logan. I'll be back."

No shit—two hours later—I ordered a drink and sat at the table with him, with a basket full of books I couldn’t afford and a huge goofy grin on my face.

He stared at me, smiling.

"What?" I asked, staring back.

"Nothing." He shook his head, licking his lips. We couldn't take our eyes off each other.

The barista brought over my drink, smiling like the Cheshire cat. I didn't know why. Then she looked over at Logan. "So this is her?" she said.

Logan smiled and nodded once.

"Hi Amanda," she said to me, her hand out waiting.

I shook it, confused. I looked from her to Logan and back again.

"I've waited a long time to meet you." She giggled to herself before walking away.

"What was that about?" I looked at Logan, bug eyed. "How does she know me? What does she mean about waiting?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it almost instantly.

"What?" I asked again.

"You're going to think I'm the worlds biggest creeper." He laughed to himself, shaking his head.

I laughed, too. "I won't. Promise. Tell me."

"Okay," he said, leaning forward in his chair a little. He blew out a breath. "I hadn't forgotten you, Amanda. Some stuff happened after our date, but I never forgot you. I wanted to see you. I wanted to speak to you. To apologize or whatever. But then I saw you at that bonfire party, and you were with that guy and I just couldn't. I figured that you'd moved on, or didn't care—"

I wanted to interrupt him but he put his hand up to stop me. "Just let me finish, please. I need to get this out."

"Okay,"

"I knew you were coming here, well, I thought you were. So I looked up all the places where I thought I might run into you. I went to all the cafes and diners you might be working. Basically, anywhere I thought you might be." He paused. "See? I told you you'd think I was a creeper."

I stayed silent, afraid of what he might be saying. For the year and I half I tried to forget him, he did everything he could to try not to remember.

"Finally," he continued, "I started scoping out book stores, because I knew how much you loved them. It wasn't so bad, there are only four around this area, but when I came into this one. I just—I don't know. I just felt like it was you. I just felt this connection with you the minute I walked in. And I know it sounds stupid, like one night together could give me that feeling—that pull feeling—but it did. And so every chance I got, I came here. Eventually, Chantal—the owner," he nodded his head to the woman behind the coffee machine, who was still smiling at me, "she asked me to leave. She said that if I wasn't buying anything and was just coming in for the coffee, then I should go sit at a coffee shop. Honestly though, I think I just creeped her out—the way my head would whip up every time I heard someone walk in. Or the way I'd just sit here for hours. Hours, Amanda. I'd sit here for fucking hours and just think about you."

I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. I knew I was two seconds away from crying and when I did, it would be worth every single fucking tear.

"So I told her," he said. "I told her everything. I told her all about you. About our date. And about how I fucked it up. I told her that I came here all the time because I was just hoping that one day, the girl of my dreams was going to walk through those doors and forgive me for being an asshole. That you we're going to come in and tell me that it was okay. That you'd give me another chance to make it right. Because I needed that. I needed you. And I sat here, in this exact chair, for hours, and poured my heart out to her. Because no one else would get it, Amanda. No one else would understand how one fucking night with a virtual stranger changed me. How I never wanted to be close to anybody my entire life. Not until I met you."

I knew the tears were flowing, I could feel the wetness on my face but I couldn't move a muscle. I couldn't breathe through the ache in my heart. And I still couldn't tear my eyes away from his.

"How long?" I asked him.

"What?"

"How long were you coming in here, waiting for me to show up?"

"Every day until the day I saw you at the library."

TWENTY SEVEN

Logan

She didn't speak to me the rest of the day, or night. She hadn’t even spoken to me at all since we left the bookstore. Chantal—the owner of the store, gave me this sad, pathetic smile when we left. That was yesterday.

The team doc said that I had to rest my hand for a few days, so when Nathan called to tell me he was back from whatever business he had to attend out of town—I figured it was the perfect opportunity for me to go and see him.

I opened the bedroom door and practically walked into her. She was lugging a huge gear bag behind her. It looked heavy as hell. I stepped forward and took it from her hands. She resisted, but only for a second. "Where do you want it?"

She laughed. "The bus stop." It came out as a question.

"What?" I chuckled. "Where the hell are you going with this thing?"

"Uh." She hesitated for a second, "Home."

She's leaving? "What? Why?" I rushed out. I don't want her to leave. If anyone was moving out it was me.

My emotion must've been evident because her eyes widened slightly, "No, Logan. Just uh, just for the night."