◈A D R I A N◈

Kelly likes me? A wimp like me? Why?

I have been asking myself these questions ever since we went our separate ways on Tuesday. It didn't help that she was practically avoiding me for the rest of the week in school. She always had her nose buried deep in her books and whenever I tried to approach her, she would always give a small wave as a friendly but dismissive gesture before scuttling off to the library.

When she left without a word on Friday, I decided to leave her alone to sort out her feelings or, like she said, mend her broken heart. I didn't know how to react or what to do but knowing her feelings and her traumatic past made me unable to stay aloof.

Because she was the closest thing to a friend I've ever had all my life.

The sudden blare of electric guitar coupled with a rhythmic thumping above me had me pulled away from my train of thoughts. I looked up to my ceiling and saw the old pendant light above the kitchen table trembled to the tremors from the heavy bass. Flakes of peeling plaster rained down on me like early Christmas.

Looked like Rockstar Wannabe got turned down by yet another agency.

Fucking asshole!

I stomped to the kitchen and pushed the window open, knocking over a bottle of oil in the process. Cursing out loud, I leaned over the basin and stuck my head out, twisting my neck to see the unit above mine. The window was open.

Perfect.

I sucked in a deep breath and yelled, "Hey, asshole! Pipe it down, will ya?! Nobody wants to listen to your mating call!"

I knew the jerk heard me because there was a slip-up but he recovered quickly and retaliated with a fiery passion. The volume increased by tenfold and my ceiling shook even more violently.

Smirking, I strode over to the front door and open the door slightly, my eyes fixed on the unit across the hallway and waited patiently. As expected, the timber door yawned open and an elderly woman peering over her judgmental spectacles clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

She disappeared into her home before emerging a short while later with an old fashioned phone in her grasp. Feeling victorious, I closed the door shut and retreated back to my room.

Miss Winters was as cold as her name. She had been living here alone since I was born. I guessed she was a pretty cool lady who minded her own business, unlike the rest of the women living on the same floor. Her door always remained shut unless something annoying happened...like now.

The only thing she couldn't tolerate was noise pollution. And that was exactly what Mr. Rockstar was doing. Knowing Miss Winters, I could bet my entire fortune the cops will come knocking his door soon.

I gave it ten minutes tops before the annoying sound died down followed by a series of footsteps sounded above my head.

I laid down on my bed and sighed. Revenge tastes so sweet.

✴

I quickened my pace to a slow jog once I saw the familiar red hydrant at the junction to Logan's workshop. As much as I dreaded to see him again after that kiss with Kelly, I couldn't help but to feel a sense of urgency to find out if he had gotten back together with Kara.

Logan didn't seem like the type of guy who was fine with the way Kara was staking her claim over him like dogs pissing to mark territory. Having seen the way he acted around Kara at Average Joe's, I was pretty sure he didn't have any remaining romantic feelings for his ex-wife.

But what about the movie date? Why did it looked like he had warmed up to Kara?

I shook my head to detangle the thoughts. Whatever it was, I needed to know if I still have my chance.

I frowned as I closed the distance to his shop. It was odd to be this quiet at this hour. My heart fell in disappointment when I saw the shutters were rolled down. I rounded the block to the back alley to check on him because sometimes Logan rolls down the front shutters to do his filings.

Nope, no luck. The shutters were closed tight too with a huge padlock secured around the loop of metal.

This doesn't feel right, I thought to myself. As far as I know, Logan never takes a day off, except on Mondays when the business is slow.

Feeling worried, I proceeded to head over to his apartment. I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button, waiting for the car to bring me to his floor.

When I reached the fourteenth floor, I turned to the left and walked down the long hallway before stopping at the last door. I clenched my fist and knocked on his door, my knuckles rapping against the hardwood echoed in the empty hallway.

"Logan," I called out when no one answered the door. After a few more knocks, I gave up and slid down to the floor. Closing my eyes, I hugged my knees against my chest, leaned back on the door and waited.

I must have fallen asleep because my head was resting on my knees when my eyes fluttered open and my back was tense from having been in the same position for a long time. Groaning, I slowly lifted my head up, careful with my stiff neck.

"You're awake," a gruff voice spoke, a little too close to my ears.

I flinched and ended up knocking the back of my head against the door in shock. My wide eyes found Logan squatting down in front of me looking a little...intoxicated?

He swayed on his feet and cocked his head, "What're you doing here?" His eyes searched me like he was looking for something. "No strawberries this time?"

I shook my head, still flabbergasted. His eyes were bloodshot and he reeked of alcohol. "Are you drunk?"

Logan chuckled and pinched his index finger against his thumb to show me. "Maybe a teensy tiny bit?"

Yup, he's totally smashed.

Logan got up suddenly, almost losing his footing when his left hand grabbing on a twelve pack beer threw his balance off a little. I shot up to my feet despite my aching back and gripped his shoulders trying to hold him steady.

"Whoa, you okay?" I asked and slowly manoeuvred my shoulders under his arm so that he can lean on me. He nodded and held the pack closer to his chest like he was cradling a baby. "Where are your keys?"

Logan thought for a second before replying, "In my pockets."

I shoved my hands in his pockets and fumbled a bit to look for the keys. Logan wasn't helping at all when he squirmed around making me feel like I was getting handsy on him. Heat sneakily crept to stain my cheeks at the close proximity and suggestive touching.

I breathed out in relief when I finally found the keys and struggled to open the door when we were tipping off dangerously close to the floor.

"What happened to you?" I grunted out after I managed to support him to the nearest couch and dropped him off unceremoniously. I tugged the pack of beer from his clutch and placed them on the small side table beside the couch.

Logan slid down the couch and rested his head on the armrest, one of his long legs dangled from the seats. "Life. Just life," he answered tiredly. "Where's the beer?"

I sighed. I was hoping he would forget about that. "You're drunk."

"Not drunk enough," he grumbled and made a move to get up from the couch.

"I'll get it," I relented and got up instead because I didn't want him to stumble and break his neck. My fingers tore open the plastic packaging and took one out before tossing it to Logan. "Here."

Logan caught that beer in one swift move and sat up a little straighter. The can let out a fizzing sound after he popped the tab open and got emptied down his throat in quick gulps. I settled down on the floor since Logan's large frame occupied the only small two-seater and studied him warily.

I was positive that something terrible had happened because Logan never lose control like this in front of me. Even though he made some occasional jokes, I could hear the sadness and frustration hidden in his teasing tone.

Logan let out a groan of satisfaction and wiped his chin with the back of his hands. He caught me staring and raised a brow. "Not drinking?"

"I'm underage," I reminded him.

His shoulders shook with laughter. "As if that's gonna stop you from drinking." He pushed himself up and crawled over to the side table to grab the whole pack and placed it on his lap. "Just to let you know, I don't have any milk in the fridge."

I rolled my eyes at him while he popped the second can open. "Hey, wanna hear something funny?" he asked as he made himself comfortable with his legs sprawled out on the rug.

I shrugged. If telling jokes could make him feel better, I was willing to be the audience to his one-man show.

He gave a small smile and took another long swig. "Let me tell you a story about a pathetic young man named Logan Hawke."

✈

Author's note

What do you think about drunk Logan?

On a side note, thank you so much for the 37k reads! You guys rock!

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{Song: hold on by flor}