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Chapter Twenty-Three

"Hang out with me?"

I grabbed the last of the books I would need to finish up some homework over the weekend and stuffed them in my bag. Closing my locker, I turned and smiled at Faith sheepishly.

"I'd love to, but I have to work today. Plus, Logan practically begged me to go even if I didn't have to work because today is the first day of that performance tradition thing. I don't know why he's so desperate for me to go, but I guess we'll see."

As we walked down the hallway together, I glanced at her, catching a little smirk stretching across her lips.

"What?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at her suspiciously.

"I think he wants you to go because he likes—"

"Not this again," I mumbled to myself, and then turned to her. "Faith, let's be serious."

"I am being serious." She deadpanned. "If he didn't like you, then why did I open you're front door to see him brushing the hair out of your face?"

          Rolling my eyes once more, I pushed the front doors of the school open, feeling a gush of wind blow my hair back.

          After that Friday night, my mind kept wondering on about what could have happened if Faith hadn't open the door. When we came back to school the following Monday, however, I feared the worst: everything between Logan and I would be lost – our friendship turned into an awkward mess. It had been a week though, and he was the same exact Logan. In fact, he had acted as if nothing had ever happened, and I almost believed it had all just been some crazy dream.

I spent days wracking my brain for an explanation to whatever it was that happened, or almost happened, and came up with the only logical explanation:

He was just caught up in the moment.

It made perfect sense because a) we were alone, and b) we were hormonal teenagers.

Need I go on?

"Faith, look," I turned to face her as we approached her car, "It was just something that happened because we were both caught up in the moment. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less."

"But—"

"I'm done talking about this." I sing-songed.

"Just listen! I—"

"Faith. Don't you get it? I'm saving myself from getting hurt. If I keep thinking about these crazy ideas that maybe Logan could like me – when he actually doesn't – I will get hurt. Drop it, okay?"

Faith looked at me with watchful eyes for a moment, before she held up her hands and looked away. "Fine, fine."

As we slipped into her car, I heard her muttering angrily under her breath. In all honesty, I was glad I couldn't understand what she was saying.

But I did understand one thing. It sucked - liking someone you knew couldn't like you back.

"Here's your latte, ma'am. If there's any problem, just call me over." I said, smiling at my customer, who was an older woman, probably in her late-sixties, before walking over to another one of my tables to take up their plates.

"Was everything alright?" I asked the family, stacking their finished plates on the table.

"Yes, thank you."

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