More Than Her

"Yeah?" I asked

She nodded.

"Not bad for a virgin dater, huh?"

She chuckled. "Nope, not bad at all."

"Okay," she sighed, removing her hands from around my neck. "I better get inside."

My hands took hers and I locked our fingers together between us. "Okay." I said, before kissing her. A kiss I used to try to tell her how I felt. And if she decided—once she was in that house—that she never wanted to see me again, then at least she'd have that kiss to remember me by. Because I would. Remember her, I mean.

"Wow," she whispered, as we break apart.

Good. She got it.

I kissed her a few more times, quickly, before pulling back completely.

"You'll call me, right?" Her eyes were cast downwards.

"Amanda," I said, trying to get her to see me. She looked up and into my eyes. "This," I motioned my finger between us. "It's not—I mean, it means more to me than what you're probably thinking. I'll definitely call you, okay?"

She nodded, and then turned and walked away. I hated it. Seeing her walk away. I just—I don't know. I didn't want this to end. The truth is I actually gave a shit—if she didn't want to see me again—or want me at all. For the first time ever, I actually cared.

"Wait!" I ran up to her. She turned around with a confused look on her face.

"Do you have a break tomorrow? I mean—shit. Is that too soon? Is it like creepy stalker too soon? Fuck."

She laughed at me. "I have a break at two, and no, I mean maybe, but not for me, too soon, I mean. And even if it is, who gives a shit." She shrugged. "I would love to see you, too soon."

Then she turned around and walked away, and I let her. I waited until she was in the house and I saw her bedroom light turn on. I got back into my car and pulled out my phone. I was about to text her, but she beat me to it.

    Is it too soon to tell you that I'm already missing the shit out of you?

ELEVEN

-Present-

Amanda

Amanda: I saw him again.

Alexis: I assume we're talking about Logan?

Amanda: Yeah :(

Alexis: And?

Amanda: He kissed me.

Alexis: AND?

Amanda: I kissed him back.

Alexis: AANNDD?

Amanda: And nothing. I still hate him. And I hate myself for letting him have that part of me.

Alexis: I'm sorry, babe.

Amanda: Me too. :(

Alexis: Totally inappropriate, but how does he look?

Amanda: Totally messing with my emotions, but ah-fucking-mazing.

Alexis: Sigh. So dreamy.

Amanda: I hate him.

Alexis: I know, babe.

"Amanda?" His soft voice sounded from behind me. I turned to face him. His hands were in his pockets, his arms stiff, causing his shoulder muscles to pop. He was shivering a little from the cold. I wanted to reach move closer so he could use my body to warm him. I didn't. "You're leaving?" he asked. We stood in the dark in Micky's front yard.

I nodded

He looked around. "How are you getting home?"

"Cab."

"Alone?" He kept looking around the empty yard.

I nodded again.

He rubbed his palm against his jaw. I remembered that. It was one of the things he did that stayed in my mind long after he was gone.

"I don't really—" He sighed. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I don't really think I'm comfortable with you taking a cab alone. I'd offer to drive you, but I've been drinking. So, at least let me ride with you. You don't have to talk to me at all. I won't try anything. I won't kiss you. I won't talk to you. I won't even look at you. Swear it."

My eyes never left his. "It's not really your call what I do, is it?" I spat out.

"Amanda, I'm just worried—"

A bitter laugh escaped, interrupting him. "You know what? I worried about you, too. I thought that maybe something had happened to you. That night? When you promised you'd call me, and you never did. You remember that, right?"

He nodded his head slowly, his gaze intense.

"See, I swear I thought we had something. I was so sure that you wanted me too, the way I wanted you. God, I was so stupid. I actually thought you wanted me. Logan Fucking Matthews, with me?" I laughed to myself. "At least I can laugh about it now. But then, shit. Back then; I was genuinely worried about you. I thought for sure something bad had happened. Like, you'd been in a car accident or something—but of course I couldn't just call you. I didn't want be that pathetic girl that didn't get the hint. So you know what I did? I googled you—for days! Nothing came up.

"And you know what the worst part is? I waited—days—no weeks. Weeks. I would have still spoken to you weeks after. Every day I told myself you were going to call, or come around, or surprise me at work. How fucking pathetic is that?"

His mouth opened to say something but I stopped him. "It was so fucking pathetic! So for days and days I waited and nothing. Not a single fucking thing from you." I was getting angry now. My words sharp, harsh. The tears started. I remembered everything. He stood there, and listened silently, hands still in pockets. He stared, right into my eyes, and he waited.

"Pathetic me, waiting for you, and I get nothing. For weeks, I sat around feeling sorry for myself. Because I fucking let you get to me. Until finally, Alexis convinces me that I need to get out. That I need to move on. So I do. I go to a stupid club, and who just happens to be there? You! You and some girl on your lap. And you couldn't keep your fucking hands off each other! And I hated it." My voice broke. "I hated that I had to see it. And I hated you!"

The anger consumed me. I started pushing him. He took every shove, not making a move to stop me. He stayed silent, while I got out over a years worth of anger, frustration and heartbreak.

"I hated you so much that I left that stupid club and the stupid memory of you with it. I moved on and screwed some guy I didn't even care about!" Push. "And just like you, he treated me like shit!" Push. "And I didn't even fucking care anymore because it was you I hated. I still hate you." Push. "And now I'm here, and I have to deal with it. I have to deal with you, and that one stupid night we had." Push. Shove. Push.

"It wasn't stupid Amanda," he finally spoke, pi

"What!"

"That night, with you. It wasn't stupid," he said flatly.

I pulled myself off him, "Fuck you, Logan."

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice quiet.

And I make the stupid mistake of looking at him.

And I see it, the sadness consumed there.

But I don't care.

Because I hate him.

A bunch of guys came streaming out the front door. Some of them patting Logan on the back, or giving him some choice words. We never once took our eyes off each other.

I hate him.

"Amanda?" a deep voice interrupted. We both turned to see Shane, one of my brother's friends. "It is you."

He scratched his head.