Arya
Logan's eyes penetrate through mine, searching for the truth. I have never seen him so... Hurt? Or is it the wine making him look so sad?
I just look at him, speechless. My sense of speech has certainly abandoned me.
"He picks up the glass of wine and sips looking absentminded for a moment.
I stare down at his shirtless body, the muscles of his body tight and bulgy against his frame. There is a dirty trail of hair from his breasts down to his stomach up to his happy trail. My fingers itch to touch him.
He looks back at me, his eyes very dark, I can't tell if it is because of being tired or sleepy. He looks so miserable. He looks like a sufferer.
"Logan, I...," I mumble.
"You don't have to explain yourself. I understand why you are like this. Now go ahead and carry on, assuming that I wasn't here," he cuts me off and towns on the drink, emptying the glass.
"You know, I can't do that," I murmur, feeling totally helpless.
