Nope. I can’t do this here. I can still hear my parents talking down the hall. The condo isn’t that big.

Instead, I lay back and think about the crystal blue depth of his eyes, how it feels like I could swim there. Then, I remember my first spring break at Wickett when I first saw Logan.

My parents had just bought the condo, and I was only fourteen. I knew, even back then, that I wouldn’t get along with the other kids that my parents’ friends brought with them. Natalie was mean to me that first spring break because I was still fairly new and far less experienced than the rest of them. They were already exploring the bases when I had yet to even step on the field.

They had themselves convinced that because it was a small beach island, I couldn’t get lost, kidnapped, or worse. So, just like this summer, I spent that one walking alone, eating alone, and sitting on the beach alone.

Then one day, I was sitting at the bookstore, reading through a pile of books that interested me when I saw him walk by. He was clearly older than me, maybe twenty, and I was instantly attracted to the fierce expression and mysterious demeanor. He walked next to an older man who was dressed nicely in a polo shirt and colorful pair of shorts. Logan was sporting his usual dark T-shirt and jeans.

They stopped in front of the window to talk, looking as if they were in a heated debate when Logan’s glare turned on me. It was as if I caught his eye, and he couldn’t look away. I was a scrawny middle schooler in a bookshop when everyone else was at the beach, and he was looking at me.

From then on, I couldn’t get him out of my head. I found out that he worked at the tattoo shop as extra help in stocking and cleaning up, but since that wasn’t an acceptable place for a young girl to hang around, I did a lot of walking, and every time I passed their storefront, I said a little prayer that he would be in sight through the window.

My heart skipped a beat every time I saw him. Through the years, I noticed that he began to collect tattoos, grew a little skinnier, and his eyes, although still blue, grew subtle dark circles under his lower lids.

For five years, I’ve watched him, loving him from a distance. Now that he’s mine, I don’t know how I’ll be able to let him go.

Logan

I haven’t stopped since getting back from lunch. I had one client after the next, mostly easy jobs and nothing too intricate. Butterflies, tribals, tramp stamps, oh my.

Murph is in a good mood tonight; the music in the shop is blaring, a few of his friends are hanging around the shop, and he even invited me to a party at his place after the shift ends, which he doesn’t do often. Especially since Theo died, Murph hasn’t been himself. No one has.