Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 121

BREN

What now?

That was the question running through my mind, teetering over two sides between running away or diving in for good. I had never expected to grab Logan like that, nor did I had the intention of pleasuring him (not that I mind). Granted, I was thinking with my emotions more than my brain, not knowing what to do once I get to that door. I wanted to stop Logan from leaving and talk, but did I planned to kiss him? It's all in the past now. What happened, happened.

And we hardly even talked. We did use our mouths, though, and oh, what a fucking irony that was.

I cursed my teenage hormones, the situation, the bathroom, and everything else that made me do it, ignoring the little voice at the back of my skull, whispering how a turn on it all was. What do people say again? Boys will be boys? I was too scared to admit when I wanted to do it again, and I blamed Logan for not stopping me. But did I want him to? That answer was pretty straightforward.

Logan never uttered a word since we went out through the door and silently walked through the corridor and museum exhibits, now illuminated by the ceiling lights after Alfie found the generator. I could see everything out in the open; the various props, mannequins, battle scenes, historical trinkets, and memorabilia were no longer hidden in the shadows. I also wondered if the others could see the shame, arousal, and excitement on my face of what I had done in that bathroom with my best friend. The split-second image horrified me more than the vectors could.

This felt more like a walk of shame after a night of a random hookup. Fortunately, the others were too busy gobbling up Aria's waffles and Yousef's coffee drinks, and they were both happy to serve the others some food that didn't come out of a can.

I shook the thoughts off my head, trying to calm my nerves and my still hammering heart. It had been a few minutes since we left the bathroom, taking our stuff back to the RV with Logan, alone.

No one was in the RV except for us.

After putting his bag in the cabinet, Logan sat on the bed, watching me, hands inside his pockets, biting his lower lip as if he wanted to say something.

Without thinking, I leaned down and placed my bag under my bunk bed, realizing I had bent over and propped my ass two inches away from Logan's knees. I immediately shot up, could feel my face reddening, but Logan merely chuckled, amused by everything.

"Shut up," I said, albeit it was too timid to be intimidating. I never liked feeling flustered so quickly like some naive lovesick puppy, something so new to me that I didn't want it as a bone in my body. I hated Logan for making me feel this way.

Logan's chuckles became a laugh—a nervous laugh. He seemed to be back to his usual self. Not that brooding mess I had to deal with the past couple of days since...well since he saw me on this same bunk bed with Peter on top of me.

I couldn't help but smile in return. Logan's laugh was intoxicating, one of those sounds you couldn't force yourself to ignore, one that came from his gut and heart, deeper and fuller to my ears. It was comforting.

"Did you always meant to do that?" Logan asked after his laughter subsided.

"Meant to do what?"

"Give me a handy?"

I tried not to get flustered even more. "Er...you didn't like it? But you said—"

"Oh, I didn't say that, and you are more than welcome to do it again, by the way. Preferably in a better, more private setting..."