♪ Thirty-One ♪

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I never did tell her who I was on our date. I left after the storm ended, feeling like I messed things up for good. I had left her there, making her think everything was perfectly okay and normal.

The guilt of this kept me up all that night. I came to the decision, at three in the morning, that I was going to tell her that day. I couldn't do it anymore.

So, with this mindset, I drifted off to sleep a few times, then was up permanently at seven.

Not wanting to be suspicious, I pretended to sleep until Rich left at around ten thirty. I had no idea where he kept going, but I had a feeling it had something to do with bird watching.

As soon as I heard the door close, I jumped out of bed, my stomach feeling like a load of bricks, and walked into the bathroom.

I looked at my reflection for a moment. I ruffled my hair down on my forehead, like I used to do when it was long. I didn't put my contacts in.

I looked more like my old self than I ever did since leaving Hollywood. I was risking it, but I had to show her.

I changed, and put on a hat and sunglasses, just in case I came across someone who I didn't want to know who I was.

Feeling more and more like Logan as I walked, my heart sink lower and lower in my chest.

I couldn't even compute my feelings at that time. I was so scared, and I didn't even know what to expect. She could be angry, sad, freaked out, or all of those combined.

It was then that I realized she had a right to feel all those things. I had been so selfish thinking about how it was going to affect me, that I hardly thought about her feelings.

I had let her believe I was someone I wasn't. I lied to her more times than I could remember. I think she even began liking me, and I was about to tell her it was all--sort of--fake.

These thoughts only made me walk faster. She needed to know. It might end everything we ever had, and I might leave Churchwood feeling like the worst person ever, but that's what I deserved. I wasn't worthy of her, and I never would be.

The sky was completely overcast, making my sunglasses look more suspicious than my actual blue eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

All I wanted was to hear her say my real name, to have her know everything about me--the real stuff. And I wanted her to know that I still cared about her, so I could kiss her and not feel like I would by lying.

But I couldn't wish for those things when I had been faking the whole time.

My head was spinning so much that I almost felt dizzy. I had to stop multiple times on the way. I didn't even think I was going to make it to her house without having a mental breakdown, let alone what I was going to do when I got there. I was completely, and utterly, at a loss.

When I got to her street, my legs suddenly felt like goo, and locked under me. I was so scared.

But I had to do this.

I walked on, slowly, my metal heart becoming more and more of a burden. Her house came into view, and I could hear it beating in my ears.

I truly never cared about anyone enough to be worried sick about what they thought of me. I cared about her so much, and somehow I wished that was enough to wash away everything I did to her.

I walked up her porch, wishing I was carrying seed packets instead of a secret that's been weighing me down since I got there.

I lifted my arm to knock, and if I didn't know any better, I'd think I was holding a fifty pound barbell.

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