Risk and Reward
The more time I spent with Logan, the harder it became to keep our…I would say, “situationship” a secret. People noticed the way we looked at each other, the stolen moments between classes, the way he walked me to my locker like it was second nature. The whispers started again, but this time, they didn’t bother me as much. I wasn’t ashamed of what we had.
Vanessa, however, wasn’t done. She tried one last desperate play to regain control, spreading rumors about my past—about how I wasn’t “worthy” of someone like Logan. She brought up things from middle school, stupid, embarrassing stories she twisted to make me look pathetic. The whispers reached a fever pitch, and I knew I couldn’t ignore her anymore.
The confrontation happened in the middle of the hallway. Vanessa was holding court, her usual smug grin plastered on her face as she recounted some lie about me crying in gym class years ago.
“Why don’t you just stop?” I said, my voice loud enough to cut through the noise.
The crowd turned, their eyes darting between us. Vanessa’s smile wavered, but she recovered quickly. “Oh, Emma,” she said, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Just because Logan feels sorry for you doesn’t mean—”
“Logan doesn’t feel sorry for me,” I interrupted, stepping closer. My hands were shaking, but I kept my voice steady. “He’s with me because he wants to be. And maybe that bothers you because no one wants to be with you unless you trick them into it.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd, and Vanessa’s face turned scarlet. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. For the first time, she was speechless.
I didn’t stick around to see her crumble. I walked away, my heart pounding, but I felt stronger than I ever had before.
That night, Logan showed up at my house. He didn’t say anything when I opened the door—he just kissed me, his hands cupping my face like I was something precious.
“Come with me,” he said softly, pulling me toward his car.
By the time Logan pulled into his driveway, my nerves were tangled with anticipation. I wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but the way he held my hand the entire ride—his thumb brushing softly over my skin—made it clear that tonight wasn’t going to be like any other night.
We barely made it through the front door before his lips found mine. His kisses were different tonight—deeper, more insistent, as if he’d been holding back for too long. I followed him up the stairs to his room, my heart racing with every step.
When the door clicked shut behind us, the tension between us became almost unbearable. Logan pulled me into his arms, his hands steady on my waist as his lips captured mine again. He kissed me like he couldn’t get enough, his hands sliding up my back, drawing me closer until there was no space left between us.
“Emma,” he murmured against my lips, his voice low and rough. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“I don’t,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
That was all it took. Logan guided me toward the bed, his hands never leaving my body. He pulled my shirt over my head in one swift motion, his eyes darkening as they roamed over me. “You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against my skin like he couldn’t believe I was real.
His words sent a wave of warmth through me, melting away the last of my hesitation. I reached for him, tugging his shirt off and running my hands over the hard planes of his chest. His breath hitched as I touched him, and the sound sent a thrill through me.
We tumbled onto the bed, our kisses growing hungrier as his hands explored my body. His touch was confident but gentle, his fingers tracing every curve like he was memorizing me. When his lips moved to my neck, then lower, I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders as heat pooled in my stomach.
“Are you okay?” Logan asked, his voice soft but steady.
I nodded, meeting his gaze. “I want this,” I said, the words trembling but true.
Logan kissed me again, slower this time, as if savoring every moment. His hands slid to my hips, and he helped me out of the rest of my clothes, his movements careful and deliberate. When he shed the last barrier between us, he paused, his forehead resting against mine.
“Tell me if anything feels wrong,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I want this to be perfect for you.”
“It already is,” I murmured, and I meant it.
When we finally came together, the world seemed to fade away. Logan was everywhere—his touch, his warmth, the way he whispered my name like it was something sacred. It wasn’t rushed or awkward. It was slow, deliberate, and filled with a kind of intensity that left me breathless.
I felt safe with him, in a way I hadn’t thought possible. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered. And when it was over, Logan wrapped me in his arms, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my back as we lay tangled together.
“I’m in this with you, Em,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “All the way.”
I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could believe him. Like maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something real.
