More Than Him Read online

  But I didn’t call, because I knew it wouldn’t be fair to you. Neither is writing this letter, I guess. But I don’t know. I just kind of felt like I needed to. I just needed you to know that I was thinking of you.

  Anyway, I’m sure that you don’t care about what some asshole thousands of miles away is doing. I just wanted to tell you that I’m okay . . . not that I expected you to worry about me, or anything.

  I guess the real reason I’m writing is because I wanted to tell you that I hope you’re doing well. And I guess I wanted you to know that I understand. I understand that you hate me. And as much as it hurts, I know that I deserve it. But I just didn’t want to go another day without telling you, just in case you had any doubts, that there’s not a single part of me that feels that way about you. All that we had, every moment we shared, it meant everything to me. Everything you felt, I felt it, too. It was the hardest thing to do, to walk away from you, from us, but I had to do it, because you deserve so much more. And I hope you see that. I hope that you’ve moved on and found some guy who treats you like the amazingly beautiful girl you are. And that he knows how lucky he is to have you. I hope he appreciates every single thing about you. And I hope that he loves you and gives you the world, Amanda.

  Because I would have.

  If shit didn’t get in the way with us, I would have.

  I would've given you the entire universe, because that’s what you deserve.

  And I want you to know, that I wasn’t lying. Those last words I said to you, they are yours. And so am I. Forever.

  Because I do love you, Amanda.

  And that’s the truth.

  Logan.

  ***

  Ty lazily walked into the room and sat on my desk chair. I was still staring at the letter in my hand.

  "You okay?" he asked, jerking his head towards the letter.

  I cleared my throat. "Yeah." I put the piece of paper back in the envelope and placed it in my handbag on the desk. I started to walk away but he held on to my hand, stopping me. I turned to face him, confused. "What's up?"

  He pulled on my hand and spread his legs so I could stand between them. A part of me started to panic. Another part of me was curious.

  He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Was it from him?" he ground out.

  I nodded once. He put one hand on my hip and brought me closer to him. "Come here," he said quietly, pulling me down until I was sitting on his lap.

  "Tyson, I don't think—"

  "Don't think," he cut in, resting his hand on the side of my face. My eyes drifted shut. My breath hitched. Then his lips were on mine. Slowly and softly, he kissed me, and I kissed back. He made a sound and brought my face closer to his, his tongue darted out and licked my lips. I opened my mouth for him. The instant our tongues touched, we both pulled back.

  He had a disgusted look on his face; I don't know what I looked like.

  "That was gross," he announced.

  I chuckled. "Way to make a girl feel special."

  He lifted me until I was standing, and then stood up, himself. "I mean . . ." He eyed me up and down. "You're hot and all, don't get me wrong, but dude, that was like kissing my sister."

  I laughed. "You're an ass."

  He sat on the bed, and his features turned serious. "So, I have some news," he announced.

  "Yeah?"

  "I, uh, got offered a job today."

  "You already have a job." I sat on the bed next to him.

  "No, I mean a proper job. One where my Juilliard education is actually going to come into play."

  "Yeah?"

  Nodding, he said, "I've been asked to go on a worldwide tour with a band. It's actually a pretty big deal."

  I couldn't hide my smile. "That's amazing, Tyson. Who is it?"

  His small smile turned into a huge shit-eating grin. "John Mayer."

  "No fucking way!" I pushed him. I was so excited for him.

  He nodded, his smile huge.

  "No. Fucking. Way!" I repeated.

  "Yes way," he spoke through his laughter.

  "Congratulations!" I jumped on him and hugged him tight.

  He started to pull me off him. "Okay, crazy, calm down."

  We sat on the bed opposite each other, our legs crossed. He took both my hands in his. "I have to leave in two days," he said, his voice softer.

  "Oh." I couldn't help the disappointment coming through. "That's . . . soon."

  "Yeah." He blew out a breath. "Look, Dim. If you need me here, I'll stay—"

  "What? No. Just . . . no."

  "But if you're not going to be okay—"

  "Shut up, Ty. You're going. I'll be fine. I promise."

  "I don't want to leave you if—"

  "Tyson, I love you. I love that you care about me. I love that you'd give up this opportunity for me. I love that you somehow think I'm your responsibility. But I'm not. I'm no one’s but myself. It's been months, I'm okay."

  He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "I love you, Dim."

  I jumped off the bed and pulled him up with me. "Let's get you packed."

  He smiled, and then pulled me in for hug. "I'm gonna miss you," he said, his voice low.

  I held him tighter. "I'll miss you, too."

  ***

  A few hours later, most of his stuff was packed. He didn't have much with him, just the couple of bags he brought from New York.

  "Why did you kiss me?" I asked.

  He shrugged. "To prove a point."

  "What point?" I looked around his mostly empty room. My old room.

  "That you still belong to him, whether you know it or not. A piece of you left when he did, and I don't see it coming back until he does."

  My heart dropped. He was right—I didn't want him to be—but he was.

  "Besides. . ." He stood up. "I've been here for months, and you've resisted me . . . and all of this . . ." He made a show of pointing up and down his body. "If I can't tempt you, then no one can."

  I laughed and threw a pillow at him. He blocked it, took two steps forward, and looked me right in the eyes. "You wanna fool around, for old time's sake?" His tone was serious, but his eyes danced with amusement.

  "Fiiiine." I feigned annoyance.

  We didn't.

  ***

  We told Ethan that Tyson was leaving. He was happy for him, but I knew that he'd worry about me. Turned out, he didn't have to worry long, because Tristan called that night. When Ethan had told him that Tyson was leaving, Tristan jumped at the chance to move in.

  That's the story Ethan's pushing. Personally, I think E asked him to be our housemate slash babysitter. Either way, I was excited to have Tris here.

  "Mini golf," Ethan announced. He lifted the flask in his hand and pointed at me. "You're driving, Demander."

  I turned to Tyson, who was already getting ready to leave. "Done." He walked over and put his arm around me. "Let's make mini golf our bitch."

  ***

  "I'm really going to miss you, Dimmy. I mean it." Tyson and I were lying in my bed, my head resting on his chest. He lifted my chin and made me face him. I could smell the booze in his breath. "I hate that sometimes I get to see you, you know? Like, a glimpse of who you used to be. The sixteen-year-old Amanda I fell in love with. The one that lived life and wanted more. I really hope you find her again. And when you do, I hope the guy who gets that part of you treasures it, even if that guy is Logan. I just want you to be happy."

  "Tyson." My voice broke.

  "You know . . ." He kept talking, "You really broke my heart, Amanda. Fuck," his eyes started to drift shut, "I loved you so damn much. I dreamed about it last night—you and me—what our future would have been like if you'd never met him. I pictured us in an apartment in New York, like I wanted us to be . . . you know . . . before you broke my heart. I always told myself it was for the best, but I don't know anymore. I planned on marrying you. I told Logan that . . . when I told him about what happened to you that summer . . . I told him I wan
ted to. Maybe it's not right for us to be together, maybe it's timing." He was rambling. I let him. "I hope he was worth it. I don't think your story is over yet. But I really, truly hope he's worth it, Dim. After everything you've been through, everything we've been through, he better be it for you."

  7

  It'd been almost six months since Tyson left. He calls, texts, or contacts me on Facebook almost every day. I tell him he doesn't need to. Especially now that he’s traveling around the world. He tells me it keeps him grounded, reminds him of home. I wasn't going to complain, Tyson—he was my constant. I needed that. He never brought up what he’d told me that night. Sometimes I wonder if he remembers it at all, or if it was just a drunken rambling. Either way, I remember his words. I'll always remember them.

  "So?" Tony pulled me from my thoughts. He was drying some wine glasses behind the bar.

  I scrunched my nose. "Definitely not a date?"

  He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Amanda. Not a date. You've made it very clear the last thirty times I've asked you out that you're not interested in dating, or in me."

  "It's not personal," I tried to soothe. "I'm just not ready to—"

  He raised his hands in surrender. "I know, I know. I get it. So tonight? It's just a bunch of Twiggy's friends, not the usual college crowd. Come on, it'll be fun. A bunch of hipster stoners? What's not to like?"

  I chuckled under my breath. "Fine." I caved in. "But I'm driving, and I'll meet you there." I pointed my finger at him. "Not a date."

  "Not a date," he repeated.

  ***

  A few hours later, I pulled up at the front of Twiggy's house. He worked most shifts with me and Tony, and even though he was nearing thirty, you couldn't tell from the way he behaved. Tony and I never knew when he was high or when he was straight; maybe he was just high on life.

  The smell of weed was overpowering the moment I opened the door. Bob Marley played through the speakers. I had to laugh at how stereotypical it all seemed.

  Tony's voice boomed from somewhere in the house. "Amanda!" he yelled. I spun in a small circle until I saw him jumping and waving his hand in the air. I carefully maneuvered through the people in the living room until I got to him. "You want a drink?" he yelled into my ear. I lifted the bottle of water in my hand. "Okay," he said, then motioned for me to sit on the chair he’d just been on. I dropped my ass on the plastic fold up seat. He left, but came back seconds later with another chair and positioned it next to me. He placed his arm on the back of mine and leaned in close to my ear. "This is exactly what I pictured Twiggy's parties to be like."

  I laughed. "I know, right? Bob Marley and everything."

  He leaned in even closer. I felt his warm breath on my neck, right before his lips brushed my earlobe. "I know we're not on a date," he said, his voice low. "But you look amazing tonight."

  It's nice to be complimented, even if he were nothing more than a friend. I turned to face him to say thank you, but something, or someone, caught my eye.

  My heart thumped against my chest.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Thump.

  And then nothing.

  It stopped beating. My eyes drifted shut. I had to be seeing things.

  Tony—he must've taken it the wrong way, because the next thing I knew—his warm lips met mine and he was kissing me. I don't know how long his lips were there, until finally, my heart started up again.

  Thump, thump.

  I audibly sucked in a lungful of air, and held it.

  He pulled back. "I'm sorry," he said.

  I let out the air in a rush. "Not your fault."

  He turned and eyed the floor. "Not a date," he mumbled.

  My breath came in short spurts.

  My eyes lifted and locked with his.

  ***

  Logan

  Heart—stomach. Stomach—floor.

  Our eyes locked.

  There was no one else in the room.

  She raised her hand in a small wave.

  I raised my beer towards her.

  Then she smiled.

  Smiled.

  ***

  "Get your shit together," I told my reflection in bathroom mirror. I dropped my head between my shoulders and splashed water on my face, and then faced the mirror again. "You knew you'd see her at some point. Quit being a fucking pussy." I rolled my eyes at myself. "Great. I'm fucking talking to myself." I jerked my head towards the mirror. "Dick."

  She's here with Tony—they're dating. It's been a year, of course she's moved on. He seemed like a nice enough guy.

  "Not your problem," I said aloud.

  They kissed. That's fine.

  I closed my eyes and tried to erase the memory of her kissing some other asshole.

  My hand shook as I turned the knob on the bathroom door. She still had the power to make me nervous.

  I tried to muster up the courage to go over and speak to her, hoping that her boyfriend would let me. I didn't know what I'd say. Maybe I should just leave her alone. Maybe she didn't even care that I was here.

  I cursed under my breath, opened the door, and stepped out. But before I had a chance to make up my mind, fate had decided for me.

  Her eyes went wide when she saw me. "Logan," she breathed out.

  My stomach flipped. "Hey . . ." My voice cracked. Fuck, I was nervous. I cleared my throat. "Hey," I tried again.

  She stood with her back against the hallway wall, waiting to use the bathroom. I kept my eyes focused on her face; I didn't want to see the rest of her. I didn't think I could handle it.

  A bunch of girls tried to get past. I moved forward so they could get through, causing my body to push against hers. "Sorry," I told her.

  "It's fine." She said it so quietly I almost didn't hear her. Then she cleared her throat and stood straighter. She pointed her water bottle towards the bathroom door. "My turn," she informed.

  "Oh. Yeah, of course." I stepped back and let her out. This was it. This was our goodbye. She pushed off the wall and walked around me. My eyes focused on where she'd just been.

  "Logan?" I felt her hand on my arm. My eyes shut tight, not wanting to remember what her touch did to me. "Logan?" she repeated.

  "Mm."

  She gripped my arm tighter and turned me to face her. She bit her lip, her eyes unsure. "Will you wait for me?"

  I nodded, my tongue too heavy, my mouth too dry to speak. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

  I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. Only then did I let my body relax, my muscles aching from the tension.

  Amanda

  "Get it together," I told myself in the mirror. I splashed water on my face and neck and filled my bottle of water. Why did I ask him to wait for me? Oh God, this is going to be so awkward. He's going to be outside, thinking I'm going to say or do something phenomenal, and I don't even know what the hell I'm doing.

  When I stepped out of the bathroom, he was there, leaning his shoulder against the wall with his ankles crossed. His hands were in his pockets, causing his arm and shoulder muscles to flex. I didn't take him in; I didn't want to remember how his body made me feel.

  I cleared my throat.

  His green eyes lifted to mine.

  He stood to full height.

  I froze.

  Thump. Thump.

  I opened my mouth to apologize, and to let him get on with the rest of his night, but he spoke first, "You want to get out of here?" he asked. His eyes on mine were so intense, so full of promise. Then he shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm a dick. You're here with your boyfriend." He kept shaking his head from side to side. He took a step backward, his hands going up.

  I watched him, confused, but then it hit me. "Oh!" I rushed out. "He's not—I mean—Tony—he's not my boyfriend."

  "It's okay," he talked over me. "You don't need to explain."

  He took another step back and bumped into someone, who pushed him forward and into me.
I tried to help steady him. "Sorry," he said. I noticed his hands clenched at his sides.

  Once he was on his feet again, he blew out a breath. "You don't need to tell me anything, just—"

  "I'll just tell him that I'm leaving, okay?"

  He shook his head again. "It's fine . . . you don't need—"

  "Just wait out front for me?"

  He nodded, then turned and headed for the front door.

  I watched him. And finally, I let my body relax.

  ***

  I walked out the front door and looked around for him. He was leaning against a car, one knee bent with his foot on the wheel. His head was down, looking at his hand. He shook it a couple of times, and then went back to examining it.

  Weird.

  I strolled over to him; he must not have heard me coming, because his eyes never lifted. I kicked his shoe with mine, and his gaze moved from his hand, to my shoe, up my legs, higher, over my body and finally, after what felt like a lifetime, my face. His eyes shut tight as he looked away from me.

  "Are you okay?" He was acting strange, or maybe this was normal for him now. Who knows? It's been a year. He pulled a can of beer from both pockets of his sweater and silently offered one to me. I shook my head, declining.

  "Walk?" he asked, kicking off the car and replacing one can back in his pocket. He pulled the tab off the beer, placed it to his mouth, tilted his head back and chugged. After his Adam's apple bobbed for the fourth time, his eyes shifted to mine. Pulling the can away, he straightened up, but his gaze remained on me. He licked his lips. I unconsciously did the same. He cursed under his breath and took a step towards me. Panic kicked in, but he just walked past me and started leading me away from the house. I followed, crossing my arms over my chest and hiding my hands under my armpits. I needed to hide my wrists. He couldn't see them.

  Logan