I Love You, I Hate You: Part 2

Four rooms down and across the hall I kick the toe of my shoe against a door. When there’s no response, I kick again and again until finally it swings open.

“I swear to god, Logan, you better—” Cooper, my twin brother, cuts himself off when he sees Danika passed out in my arms.

I give him an I-know smile because we’re dancing a fine line with déjà vu. “I can’t get my door open. Can you help?”

“Yeah.” Cooper flips the metal loop outward to keep from locking himself out then lets his door close. We take the few steps to my room in silence, him probably wondering what happened tonight and me trying to figure out what I’m going to do next. This wasn’t a part of the plan

When we stop in front of my door Cooper asks, “Back pocket?”

“Yeah.”

He fishes my wallet out of my back pocket and finds my key and swipes the plastic card in front of the magnetic lock. The little light flashes green and he holds the door open. “This is eerily familiar.”

“Relax,” I say, laying Danika over the covers, wondering, Should I change her out of that sticky, wet dress.? Is that crossing a line? “She’s drunk, not drugged.”

“Uh-huh,” Cooper guffaws, leaning against the four drawer dresser that’s hiding a mini-fridge. “And you just happened to be there to save the day. Am I right?”

I set Danika’s heels on the chair beside the bed, then roll the other half of the blankets on top of her. Not the most conventional tuck in, but all things considered, I think I did all right.

“You want to crash with me tonight?” Cooper asks.

I exhale a heavy breath. The simple answer, no. I want to stay here and watch Danika sleep. I want to curl up beside her and feel her body against mine. I want to steal her luggage and swipe her rosewater perfume I can never find. But what I want doesn’t matter. Not tonight anyway.

3

Danika

I groan and peel my eyes open because there’s a pounding sound resonating through the room. I don’t know what’s worse, the throbbing in my skull or the incessant banging against the door in the hallway. I pull the sheets over my head, hoping that if I ignore the rapping long enough, whoever is outside will go away but they don’t. They just keep banging harder and harder. The sound grows louder with each thunk until I can’t take it any longer. I throw the sheet off and stomp across the room, whipping the door open. “What?”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” Logan smirks. His gaze sweeps over my body and I realize I have no idea what I’m wearing. Last night is a blur. I remember standing knee-deep in the ocean, feeling the waves melt into my body, but everything after that is fuzzy. Flickers of what I’m assuming are memories flash through my mind, but they’re broken pieces that don’t make sense.

I look down at a faded band T-shirt I don’t recognize and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. The only thing keeping me from a full on freak out is the fact that I can feel my panties riding up my ass and that Logan is standing in my doorway behind a room service cart.

He points to my chest. “That’s mine, by the way.”

I cross my arms, irritated because he read my mind and dissolved my internal freakout without me saying a word. Because his ability to understand me sends a blanket of goosebumps across my skin. “Why are you here?”

Logan’s lips lift in the corners and my treacherous heart beats faster. His gaze flicks down to the cart and then to me again. “Breakfast.”

I twist my mouth into a scowl and mutter. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Are you going to let me in?”

No. Yes. I don’t know. On the flight from Georgia to Florida I dug up memories buried deep into my subconscious. I focused on the bad: h

ow rude Logan was to me at the start of senior year; how he would push me away time and time again, expecting me to chase after him; how I was always there for him, but in my time of need, he left me to deal with my problem alone.

I rediscovered all of those memories and unearthed a fury I didn’t know existed. I planned to use that anger as a shield and not fall into Logan’s brown eyes again. I expected Logan to revert back to his asshole ways, making him easier to hate. Too bad dust covered butterflies sprang to life the moment I saw him, rendering me a fool once again. “Do I have to?”

“If you want to eat, then yes.”

My stomach rumbles, bringing back a broken memory of me throwing up on the beach last night. A memory that’s tainted because I recall Logan holding my hair back, only I know that never happened. That would mean he still cares and his feelings for me died three hundred and seventy five days ago. The last time he tried to contact me. I knew Logan would eventually give up on us. I didn’t know it would hurt as bad as the day I left.

“I’d rather starve.” I slam the door, proud of myself for finding the strength to resist that gorgeous smile and those bottomless brown eyes.

Logan knocks again but I ignore him and head into the bathroom. Who does he think he is? Showing up unexpected and unwelcome at my door. Ugh.

I take a long shower, filling the tiny room with steam until the air is too thick to take a comfortable breath. Getting out, I wrap myself in a towel and then look at my phone. It’s nine-fifteen. The complimentary breakfast will be over soon. I should head downstairs. Lord knows I can’t afford to spend any unnecessary money, and breakfast because I overslept would definitely be considered unnecessary.