We both knew what we had was special, something rare that took us both by surprise. If any couple had a chance of making a long distance thing work, it would be us. While I’d battle mid-terms and all night study sessions, Cole would be battling fires. Somewhere.
Even though I knew Cole and I had a fighting chance at giving this thing a go, no matter where life took each of us, I was a realist too. I knew the odds were more in favor of us not making it than in us riding into the sunset on a white horse. I got that. It twisted my stomach and made my breathing all panicky, but now that I’d figured out how to be honest with myself, I wasn’t going to put that mindset on pause when it came to Cole’s and my relationship.
So Logan and I had something to talk about, but so did Cole and I. Two intense conversations with two boys I cared for deeply. With Logan, it would break my heart, but with Cole, the possibility of my heart being ripped from my chest was very real. We’d been so busy just trying to be together, we hadn’t worked out what happened next. That was a whole lot of gray area I needed to put a little color into. Was this a summer romance for Cole, or was he hoping for more? How much more? How much more was I hoping for?
The questions never ran out and as I started weaving through the bodies milling around the festival, I was tackled by an onslaught of even more questions. Maybe that’s the reason I felt especially cynical about the festival that night.
My cynicism escalated as soon as I noticed a familiar, smiling face coming towards me.
“It’s about time you showed your pretty little face,” Mrs. Matthews said, wrapping her arms around me. “What do you think of the Festival? Best one yet, right?”
I surveyed the surrounding area. The same food vendors, the same dunk tank and carousel, the same white lights cris-crossing a few feet above our heads. The same people milling about. The only thing different this year was the cancelled firework display. Lack of rainfall and record high temperatures had a way of messing with a firework show.
“Hands down,” I said, thankful when she finally released me. I’d been doing my best to avoid her and Mr. Matthews all week. Not because I didn’t like them, they were great people, highly respected in the community, but the guilt I’d carried around like a one ton weight doubled when I was around them.
“Have you seen Logan yet?” she asked, waving at a family passing us.
“No,” I said, my throat going a little dry just thinking about it. “I was just looking for him.”
She smiled. “Last I saw him, he was hanging around the corn dog stand. About to tear into his fourth one.”
“Didn’t they feed him while he was gone?”
“I think he’s eating because he’s nervous,” she said, leaning over like she was telling me a secret. “He’s an emotional eater. Takes after me.” She patted her flat stomach like it was anything but. Mrs. Matthews was twenty years older, but she and I could have shared clothes.
“Why’s he nervous?” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know.
She bit her lip, chewing something out. Finally, she grabbed my hand and her eyes started to twinkle. “I think he wants to talk with you about something,” she said in a hushed voice.
That made two of us.
Then, cocking an eyebrow, she patted my hand. “Or something to ask you.”
Oh, boy. Not good. I got a little light headed thinking about it. She didn’t need to say the exact words to get across what she was getting at. Logan was going to propose tonight. Officially. One promise ring to be replaced with an engagement ring.
I was going to break up with the guy who was planning on asking me to marry him tonight.
Life had a sick sense of humor. Or timing.
Or both.
“I already think of you as a daughter, Elle, but it will be wonderful when it’s official.”
Two ton weight of guilt . . . you’ve got nothing on what just busted my back.
“I’d better stop talking your ear off so you can go find Logan.” She flashed me a knowing smile. “I want to be the first to know. I pummeled that into him earlier, but in case he’s got the memory of his father, I’m telling you. Mother-in-law is the first to know,” she said, sticking her thumb into her chest. “Okay?”
It took me a few moments before I could reply. “Okay,” I said softly. “Logan or I will let you know what happens.”
Just then, a small mercy popped up beside Mrs. Matthews. Mrs. Peterson, one of the fellow Festival planning committee members, had a stoic look on her face.
“Sorry to interrupt, Marny, but I just thought you should know that bunch of smokejumpers just showed up,” she said, shaking her head.
My head whipped around instinctually, scanning for a familiar face.
“A few of them are pretty drunk already and the night is young. You know what happened last year . . .”
If I hadn’t been so preoccupied looking for Cole, I might have grinned. Mrs. Peterson’s and my definition of a tragedy were on opposite ends of the spectrum. My mom dying so young was a tragedy to me; to her, a few buzzed smokejumpers who’d held a contest to see who could climb to the top of the Ferris wheel first at last year’s Festival was a tragedy.
If any sort of encore performance was planned for this year, I knew Cole would be at the front of the line.
Mrs. Matthews made a face. “I’ll let Sheriff Montgomery know so he can keep tabs on them,” she said, her eyes automatically drifting in the direction of the Ferris wheel. No band of death wish smokejumpers hanging from it yet. “Thanks for letting me know.”
I waved at the two women before making my way through the crowd. I knew I needed to find Logan first. I had to talk with him before I could look for Cole because I knew if I found Cole first, I’m be consumed by him. All reason and restraint and better judgment would fly off with the fried food scented wind and I couldn’t do that with Logan in the same vicinity.
Plus, I also knew Cole likely wouldn’t touch me if he knew I hadn’t broken things off with Logan. So, even though my eyes scanned the crowd for Cole, I went in search of Logan.
I’d almost made my way to the corn dog stand when a pair of arms wound around me from behind.
“Looking for someone?” Logan’s familiar voice and the hint of hopefulness shot a stab of pain right through me. Just the tone of his voice was about to bring me to my knees. How was I going to make it through this?
I didn’t have the answer to that. All I knew was that I had to do it.
I twisted in his arms, trying not to let those blue eyes of his I’d stared into thousands of times cripple me. “Not anymore,” I answered him.
Logan studied my face and his forehead creased. I knew I looked almost as bad as I felt. I couldn’t hide it. It would have been a wasted effort.
I might as well get this over with before I lost all control.
“I need to talk to you,” I said quietly. “Alone.” A handful of Logan’s friends and teammates were scattered around us and the buzz of Festival noise made it hard to think, let alone tell a boy I’d loved for the past couple of years I wasn’t in love with him anymore.
Logan’s face fell, but not in worry. In nervousness.
Mrs. Matthews hadn’t been exaggerating. He was really going to do this tonight.
“I need to talk to you, too,” he said, shifting in place. “And I’d prefer to do it in privacy, too.” He shifted again. He was crazy nervous.
“You want to get out of here?” I said, nodding for the parking lot. I wasn’t eager to leave the Festival now that I knew Cole was likely wandering around, but right now, Logan was my priority.
“Yeah,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair, “but not until you dance with me.” He grabbed my hand and starting leading me towards the same band playing the same songs from the same stage to the same husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends, lovers and ex-lovers, all moving on a dance floor of uneven earth.
I held back. I wasn’t a dancing queen, nor was I a dancing fiend.
I was more a dancing dud.
“Come on, it’s tradition,” Logan said, pleading with his eyes. “We haven’t missed a year of dancing to ‘our’ song since we were twelve years old.” There might not have been a romantic spark between us back then, but our friendship was our bond. A lump formed in my throat when I realized I wasn’t only breaking up with a boyfriend tonight, I was breaking up with a good friend.
“I can’t let tonight be the year we miss our dance,” he continued. “I’d never forgive myself.” He smiled that Logan smile of his. “Come on. For me?”
It might have been the guilt. It might have been the way I cared for him. Or it might have been our history together. Whatever it was, I answered him with a single nod and let him lead me towards the stage.
Logan didn’t stop until we were in front of center stage. Motioning up at the singer—a guy who was in the choir at church—Logan dropped his arms around me and drew me close.
The band stopped playing their upbeat rendition of an oldie and broke into something slow and familiar. And yet, just like so much of this town was becoming, it was a bit foreign too.
“Our song,” Logan said, his face bright.
“Our song,” I whispered, realizing this was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
Logan had worked out with the band that with a nod of his head, they’d stop what they were playing and break into our song. On the same night he was planning on asking me to marry him. Knowing this, along with the gleam in his eye and the set of his brow, I knew what was coming. Of a mere minute or two away.
“I love you, Elle,” he began as a sheen of sweat surfaced on his forehead.
Crap. He was really going to do this thing. Right here and now.
So much for leading me to believe he wanted privacy for what he had to talk with me about tonight.
“I love you so, so much and I know you’re the girl for me. I’ve known that from the first day I met you.”
“Wait,” I said, shaking my head. “Stop.”
Logan’s mouth clamped shut and he waited.
“Why do you love me, Logan? Do you know why? Can you list the reasons why?” My words bubbled to the surface faster than I could speak them. “Why are you with me? Do you know why you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”
Logan’s face dropped. I could have just slapped him from the way he looked. “What?” he said after a while, sounding as baffled as he looked.
“Why are you with me, Logan? Why do you want to spend your life with me?” I asked, doing the best I could to make hard words sound soft.
Logan thought about this for a few moments while he held me close and moved in time to the slow song drifting around us. “Because I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather be with.”
I tried to follow his lead as we danced, but I couldn’t. I’d stopped following Logan’s lead weeks ago and I suppose that even translated onto the dance floor. Eventually I just gave up and we wound up just standing in place, with his arms around me, staring at one another.