XPLR | Colby Brock

~130~

In this world, this tiny part of the United States called New York City, anything is possible. Everyone is uniquely different. And there's so so much to explore.

Which is why I'm bringing Logan along with me.

"It's a Thursday night, Rose. We shouldn't be staying out this late. Seriously, this isn't safe," Logan said as we walked down a Long Island street. "You have class tomorrow. I teach class tomorrow. I have a gig tomorrow!" he said.

The days at Juilliard came and went in a blur. Truthfully, it didn't seem like anyone was really there to make friends. Which is why the days passed by so fast. I really enjoyed my classes and workshops, and it's not like I was one of the worst ones there. My professors liked me, they were impressed with me.

"It'll be fun once you stop talking. I used to do this all the time. With Elena, with Colby," I said. Their names slipped from my mouth without so much of a thought. And I smiled to myself when I realized that it didn't matter. It didn't hurt so much to think about them. "It's actually how I met Colby," I said. I looked over my shoulder at him for a moment, before looking back at the map on my phone.

"Pfft," he pouted. "Thanks for comparing me to your ex boyfriend," he huffed, kicking at the rocks beneath his feet as we scrolled.

I was still no closer to figuring out if Logan's "feelings" for me, or lack thereof, were true or even real. I was happy. My job in the little bar was getting a bit easier, but I wasn't much further along there with trying to make friends.

"Sorry," I said sarcastically, shrugging. He smirked, and he just leaned over and wrapped his arm around me. "I'm not worried about him, though. Not as much as he was always worried about me."

I rolled my eyes and wiggled out of his arms, stepping a few feet a head of him, pushing a stand of hair behind my ear. I took a right.

Something between Logan and I had formed, though. I knew it was there, but Logan was terribly aware of it, because he was the one who created that tension of us two staring at each other for too long, wondering the same thing: Should I kiss him? Should I kiss her?

But we both knew that neither of us would try it. I wouldn't because I didn't know how he'd react, and he wouldn't to keep me interested.

Logan is brilliant when it comes to girls, and emotions.

What was clear, though, was that Colby was a distant memory. My life in New York City was turning, always, and I loved it. There was no time for grieving, only time for work, piano, and whatever the hell else I want to. And I fucking love it.

Logan, behind me, put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and looked around. It was a rather temperate evening in March 2019, in New York City. Two months after my classes at Juilliard. Which I'm acing, by the way.

"Are we almost there?" Logan asked as he looked around. "I think we're here... now," I said, turning to face a little church on the outskirts of Long Island. An abandoned church.

"Spooky," He said. "Let's take your aesthetic pictures and go home."

"I didn't come here just to take pictures," I say. I have an Instagram I've never used. I told Colby once that I had it, that I didn't use it. I don't know if he even follows it. I know no fans do, so I doubt it.

I handed him my phone. He snapped a few pictures of me, and vice versa, we even got one together.

It just made me think of Colby, and our abandoned train next to the Coachella house. My heart lurched. No. You're almost over him. Don't think about him.

That's right. That's right.

"How are we gonna get in...?" Logan asked. He started walking towards the front steps towards the doors, that were chained shut. "The website said there was a window in the back," I said, turning to walk around. Logan followed me.

The window was wall. Logan bent down to give me a little lift up, and I stepped on his hands and he hoisted me through the window before jumping up himself.

Colby. Elton, Elena. Downey, California. Abandoned Asylum. That's when I got arrested! Oh, and Hayden. Hayden...

Old memories flooded back at me like a tsunami. I sighed, and Logan watched. "What's up?" He asked. I shook my head and turned away, turning on my flashlight. "Nothing. Let's keep looking. We have to explore!"

The church was gorgeous. It's stained glass created a kaleidoscope of colors in the ground of the main aisle, and the ceiling were tall and grand. I looked up, squinting, and I smiled. Logan watched and when I looked back, he smiled too.

"You're right. This is pretty cool," he said. "Not as pretty and cool as you, though."

I rolled my eyes and continued on, running my hands over the slopes of the pews. He followed, and mocked me sarcastically. In front of the alter, Logan snapped another candid photo of me, hopping up the steps, sporting ripped jeans and a tank top underneath a windbreaker hoodie, and high top vans. I'd be regretting this wardrobe choice later, but I didn't care. It's cute.

My little bob was pulled half up with a red ribbon. I looked at the main, cracked cross, and I just smiled, reaching behind my head and tying it around the cross to cover the crack.

I was never much of a religious person, but I've got plenty to be thankful for. So I just whispered a quiet, "Thank you, God."

Then I turned back to Logan. We explored for a few more minutes before we turned to leave.

Once I was home in my bed, I curled up under my sheets alone, and I didn't mind it. I opened Instagram and logged in. I thought for a second, before I posted the single candid shot of me.

I didn't put any caption, I just put a location marker, tagged Logan in the corner for taking the shot, and I laid down, listening to classical music to lull me to sleep.

I was awakened by a buzz. Who would be texting me at this hour? Jesus, at 3 am on a Thursday? But it wasn't a text. A single notification.

@colbybrock has liked your photo.

And I never felt more alone. Without him.