And It All Comes Down To You

I turned my head to the passenger side window again, not that it did any good. The only thing visible was the streaming rain, completely blocking the view of the street we’d stopped in. I vaguely remembered we were in a residential area, but I hadn’t had a chance to see much of it before Logan had to park before we crashed due to low visibility.

Leaning down, I pulled my phone out of my bag, amazed to find I still had a signal. I called on my 3G and did an Internet search for the festival, just to be absolutely certain it was cancelled. Terrible weather happens at Glastonbury and that doesn’t get cancelled so maybe there was a chance we’d be lucky. Perhaps lucky wasn’t the right

word – we were going to get wet - but at least we’d get the day out we’d planned.

It took approximately three seconds for my hopes to be dashed. The festival’s cancellation was headline news, and I held my phone out to Logan. “Yeah. Definitely cancelled.”

Logan wrinkled his nose. “Damn.”

I threw my phone back into my bag and dumped it back on the floor by my feet. A disappointed silence filled the car, the only sounds were our gentle breaths as we internally dealt with our own disillusionment at the way things had taken such a crappy turn, and the persistent rumblings of thunder.

“We could…” Logan began, then trailed off. “Nah, forget it.”

Really? Dude needs to understand that is not the kind of sentence a girl is ever going to “forget” about.

“Go on,” I encouraged. “What were you going to say?”

He tilted his head thoughtfully to one side. “We’ve driven for four hours. This storm is not going to let up any time soon. Maybe we could find a place to stay tonight and drive back tomorrow.”

The flip of my heart in my chest made me jolt in my seat – embarrassing since Logan was watching me. I shifted in my seat as his words sank in. Honestly, those were the last words I expected him to utter – well, aside from, “This has been the best road trip ever. I think we should get naked immediately.” The idea of that had me jolting again, and I tried to pull together something to say before he changed his mind.

“I… I’m… I don’t have anything with me for an overnight stay.”

Not true. I had my cosmetics counter in my bag.

“Me neither but we’re in Southampton. It’s not exactly the arse end of nowhere. There are shops around where we can grab what we need. And what do we really need anyway?”

“Well, underwear for tomorrow would be a good start.”

I tried not to cringe at the mention of undies, but since I’d been fighting to stop thinking about him ripping mine off, it wasn’t an easy task. The heat rose in my cheeks again and Logan laughed.

“I’m sure there’s a Primark or something around here.”

“Please.” I held my hand up, adopting an air of offence. “Do I look like the kind of girl who buys her knickers in Primark? I’ll have you know I’m a little more upmarket than that!”

I truly was kidding; Primark usually has a kickass selection of knickers, but my inner mischievousness had started running the show again, primarily to save me from the embarrassment of discussing my pants with Logan.

“Alright, Miss Fussy!” Logan laughed. “There’s probably something around here more suited to your refined tastes.”

“I’m sure there is, but how are we going to get there? We don’t know where we’re going, we can’t go anywhere in the car because we can’t see out of the windows, and we’re dressed for sunshine, not storms.”

“Jesus, woman! Talk about creating problems! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left it at home with my umbrella.”

He shrugged. “Fine. We’ll go home when it stops raining so hard.”

I didn’t miss the smirk on his lips, and I bit my own lip to hold in a laugh. I couldn’t let this trip end yet. Screw it, even if we drowned on the way to the shops, it would be worth it just to be with him a bit longer. And it seemed like he genuinely wanted us to stay. Why, I had no clue, but I wasn’t about to question it.

“Let’s stay. I can suck it up and wear budget pants for one day.”

Present

“Well, well.” Lydia smirks. “Talking to Logan about your underwear. This is hotting up!”

I fling my beer mat across the table at her, laughing. “Stop. Don’t rush me.”

I figure I’m doing pretty well with the sharing, in spite of me trying to preserve the memories. Each memory I share brings with it another little snippet of something that happened; a small brush of our hands as we ran through the rain, me catching him smiling at me when he thought I wasn’t looking, small jokes that made us laugh at the time but wouldn’t make sense to anyone now. I suppose those are the things it’s okay to keep to myself. My things. Our things. I wonder if Logan looks back on them with the same fondness, or if he even remembers the little things. Maybe guys remember things differently and don’t hang on to small details. For me, those small details are everything.