Conundrum

Another writing. Very delayed.

There were days when Logan didn’t want to wake up. Today was one of those days. He rolled over to the side only to find the conclusion of his drunkenness. She was pretty – that much he was thankful for, but her name, age, bra size, voice? She held onto him in a way that said that she knew him.

“I’m different when I’m drunk.”

He thought to himself as he gently touched her hands to remove her grip. He was still in jeans, which meant two things: he chickened out, or it was very uncomfortable for her. He hoped it was the former, but his streak had tended to be the latter.

Mentally, he told himself he wouldn’t drink again, but he remembered the futility of the statement. Drinking made him look older, less handsome, more rugged. It also made him forget his own feelings.

“Honestly, I don’t hate them, I just never wanted to be one.”

He told himself as he dressed for work. The wardrobe he was given would have made any reasonable girl jealous, but he was unhappy. A model in his own right, he had commercials, magazines, and merchandise chasing after him, giving him clothes, money, and women. Lots of women. When he was sober he craved men, when drunk he craved women with low morals to satisfy the confliction in his heart. Maybe it was just a phase, but maybe could still shift from yes or no.

That worried him. As the car pulled up in front of the apartment complex he raised his right arm to hail it as his left hand was gently pried open to let another hand slip in.

“Logan,” beads of sweat rolled down his neck and he slowly shifted to the side to face her. She was calm, pristine, but why didn’t he feel anything for her.

“You need to tell the world what you told me last night. You’re so tense and conflicted, even when drunk you can’t hide from the world forever. You know. You’re a good guy, that’s what they portray you by. That’s who you are and you’ll always be, but you have to accept the fact you have an issue.”

“Please, get in the car, join me for work today.” He opened the door to usher her in.

“What is this for?” She asked incredulously.

“Anyone honest end with me deserves to know more about me, and I need to know them. Please, just talk to me. I hope and pray that with your honesty I can trust again. Sober.” With that said, she thought a moment before she went into the car.

“My name is Riley, and I’m not one of those girls you normally take home.” she said smiling, he held her hand and felt that foreign feeling, welcoming it with happiness.

“My name is Logan, and I’m more than a hollow, pretty face.”

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