Throbbing heart

I take a drink of steaming hot coffee and turn the page of the novel I'm now reading. The book isn't one of those that pique my attention and makes me want to stay in this room until I finish it. It's more of a case of "I don't have anything else to do, so let's give it a shot."

The sound of the evening breeze could be heard through the open window in my room, prompting me to sink further into the couch. I didn't realize a week had passed after Grecia left because the last two days went so nicely. Apart from the odd mood swings from Logan, living with him wasn't all that unpleasant. Contrary to my expectations, we didn't regularly bite each other's heads off. Unless we have dinner together, we rarely see each other in the house. Logan has always seemed to enjoy my food, so I always cook for both of us. He would usually get home late at night, but there were times when we would eat together in silence in the dining room.

I had asked him the day before about who was behind us after our game night at Patrick's, but he dismissed me by telling me not to worry about it because he was handling the situation. I kept nagging him for more information, and eventually, he caved and said it was just someone with a grudge against him. I decided not to bother him any longer because he didn't seem pleased with the subject. I wanted to ask him many questions about it, but I decided to keep my mouth shut for my own sake. I was deep in thought when I heard a knock on the door. I got out of bed, closed the book, and walked towards the door. I opened it to find Logan holding a phone.

"Mom is on the line. She wants to speak with you "He said as he walked away after handing me the phone.

"Hello Grecia, how are you?" I greeted her as I walked towards my bed.

"Hello, sweetheart. I'm doing well. "How are you?" She enquired. Oh, how I missed her voice.

"Good. How is your sister doing?"

"She's wonderful. I haven't been here in a long time, so things are a little different. I'm hoping to return soon because I've never been away from home for this long, but it appears that it will take some time. As I said before, my sister is undergoing medical treatment, and I needed to be present for her."

"Yeah, I remember that. "Your absence is having an effect on the house, especially Logan," I stated truly.

"It's affecting me as well, darling. I just spoke with Logan, but did he cause you any problems?" She inquired.

"Not up until now." I laughed.

"Mm, if he's causing any problems, give me a call. I'm going to smack some sense into that thick head."

"That's fine. I've learned to deal with him now," I said, making her laugh. Just don't talk to him when he's angry, which is most of the time, and keep your sarcasm to yourself.

"You know, Karolia, I'm surprised you're still here. Even though I feel like I forced you to stay, I'm sure if it had been someone else in your situation, they would have fled to the hills. He's a difficult one to manage, but I see you're doing a good job. Only you, I believe, can get him to stand on his own." She said, implying something I didn't quite understand.

"That, I don't believe is correct. He's like a ticking time bomb, ready to detonate at any moment." Grecia burst out laughing when I said honestly.

"I understand, sweetheart; forgive this old lady for putting you in such a predicament." She made me snicker with her banter.

"However, Karolia, promise me that you'll never leave the house without my permission until you have found a safe place." She stated. Her words made my heart melt. She genuinely cares about me.

"I swear to you. I won't leave without informing you." I gave her my assurance.

"Alright. I have to leave now. I'll call you later," she said.

"Sure," she said as she hung up the phone, and I sighed deeply.

"Well. I'm like a bomb to you, don't you think?" When I turned around, Logan was standing against the threshold with his arms crossed. Please don't tell me he stood there the whole time.

"Did you listten in? I asked, my eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, I did," he admitted shamelessly, shrugging his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal.

"That isn't good."

"Do I appear to be concerned?" I just rolled my eyes as he snorted. Without a doubt, No. Suddenly, he began to move slowly towards me, his blue eyes engulfing my brown ones. He came to a halt an inch away from me, and I had to look up to see his face. My heartbeat became audible in my ears, and my pulse quickened.

"W-What are you up to?" I muttered. I didn't dare to move an inch from where I was, mainly because my brain had stopped working. I thought he was going to cup my face with his hand when he lifted it. But then he snatched the phone from my slightly trembling hand and leaned away from me.

"Do not get your hopes up. I just want my phone back," he said, smirking, and I narrowed my eyes at him. Asshole.

"You could have simply asked me. And it's obvious you took advantage of the situation." I stated.

"Please, please! I have higher standards. Don't just compliment yourself." He smirked before leaving my room, making me clench my teeth.

"Oh look, Mr. Hot Head has finally gotten standards that he forgot to learn in school," I yelled.

"Haha funny" he yelled back sarcastically.

"Ughhhh," I exclaimed, needing to vent my rage.

------------

I'm currently sitting on my bedroom couch, binge-watching Friends episodes on my laptop, but my mind was preoccupied with something else, or rather someone. I hadn't seen or heard from Logan in a long time, not even for dinner, so I assumed he was still working in his office. Sometimes I think he works too hard for his own good. He always has a frown on his face and rarely smiles. I would have asked him to take a break from everything, but I know I don't have any say in the matter. Grecia's words to me about how many responsibilities he had to face at such a young age made me wonder how difficult it must have been for him. I'm sure there's more to him than what he shows others.

When the tapping sound of raindrops became more of a pitter-patter, my head snapped in the direction of my open window, and a smile formed on my lips. The breeze coming in through the window provided a refreshing breeze to my room.

But that smile fades quickly as my eyes widen in surprise as I notice my fluffy white floor rug near the window getting wet as the rain picks up speed. And the strong wind certainly didn't help. I cursed as I dashed to the window. I was about to resume what I was doing after closing the window when I heard the banging noise of the door from outside my room, which startled me. I went in search of the source of the noise and ended up in the balcony area. I make my way to the balcony, but I come to a halt when I see Logan through the partially open glass door.

He was dressed casually in a long-sleeved white t-shirt and black joggers, leaning against the balcony railing with a beer bottle loosely hung in his left hand, his back to me. But it wasn't the fact that he was soaking wet in the rain that drew my attention; it was the fact that he looked like a Greek god standing there in the rain. I stepped into the shade that covered half of the balcony area. I'll be soaked in the rain four feet ahead of where I stand.

Logan appeared to be deep in thought, staring at the sky, raindrops hitting his face, enjoying the ethereal nature of the scene. I was taken aback when I noticed four empty beer bottles at the bottom of the wooden table next to him. He's been standing there for how long?

"Logan?" From where I was, I called him hesitantly. But the only response I received was silence. I took three more steps forward and called him again, louder this time. His head cocked in my direction, a puzzled expression on his face.

"It's the first rain, so I think you should go inside. You'll get a cold." I informed him. He ignored me and looked up once more.

"I'm telling you this for your own good, Logan," I explained.

"You sound like my mother," he said as he turned to face me, leaning against the baluster. I knew he wasn't going to budge. Why am I bothering?

"Look, the first rain of the season is bad for us because it mostly carries pollutants from the environment." Logan burst out laughing before taking a drink from his beer bottle.

"Did you previously take a meteorology class? You sound like a weather reporter," his slurred words confirmed his inebriation.

"Loosen up and stop being so stiff. Just enjoy the rain," he said, looking up as if allowing the rain to wash away all his worries. What on earth is he talking about? If anything, it is he who acts as if he has a stick up his a$$. But I believe the alcohol is causing him to talk so much. Logan is a man of few words when he's sober.

"I don't want to get sick. After all, I've already showered." He returned my gaze, a small smirk on his lips.

"See, you're uptight," he said, and I sighed deeply. I understand what he's attempting. He's challenging me to get into the rain by making rude remarks, but I'm not falling for his ruse this time. I'm serious; I don't want to take another shower.

"Whatever," I muttered as I turned to go back inside, but nothing could have prepared me for what he was about to do next. From behind, strong wet arms wrapped around my waist, pulling my back into a rain-soaked chest. When I felt myself being bathed in the heavy rain, I squealed in surprise and froze on the spot. Logan's laugh can be heard from behind me, but I'm too caught up in the cold rain that drizzles onto my skin, quickly soaking my thin shirt.

I pushed his hand away and turned around to glare at him.

"Why would you do that?" I push his chest and whine in a whiny tone. He laughed as he took a few steps back. Please remind me not to approach Logan while he is inebriated. Logan is insane when he's drunk. His gaze fell to my chest and he whistled, a smirk on his lips.

"Nice," he commented. I looked down and gasped as I realized what he was thinking. My thin fabric, which adhered to my body like a second skin, did nothing to conceal my red undergarment.

"Jerk," I yelled, giving him the best glare I could muster. I crossed my arms across my chest, attempting to shield my chest from his enticing gaze.

"Relax, love. Stop worrying about anything and just live in the moment." He said this while taking a long gulp from his beer bottle before tossing it down. I was about to scream at him again for dragging me into the rain, but something about his expression made me stop. He appeared to be enjoying the rain as if he hadn't been so worked up from his office the previous days. Despite the fact that his face appeared happy, I could see a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"What made you drink?" I inquired, intrigued. Before turning to face me, he ran his hand through his slick black wet hair.

"Do I really need a reason?" He raised his brows and looked me in the eyes, making him appear ten times hotter. I tried my hardest not to be affected by his presence, but it's becoming increasingly difficult.

I shrugged my shoulders, which is my way of saying, you tell me. He sighed deeply before lifting his fingers and allowing the water to run through them. It took him a few moments to speak.

"Would you change your past if you had the chance?" Despite the fact that his question seemed unexpected, I responded quickly.

"In an instant." I'm not sure how many times I've gone over this in my head. It's a question I'd posed to myself a million times. I wish I could-

When I felt a warm hand cupping my face, my train of thought was interrupted. I hadn't realized we were standing so close to each other until now. The heat of his hand seeping into my face caused me to melt. He takes a step closer, and my heart begins to race, and I've never been more grateful for the sound of rain. His dark eyes were fixed on me, and for a brief moment, I thought he was looking for the reason in my response. But the moment his gaze lands on my lips, I freeze.

I was terrified of closing my eyes. I was afraid of what would happen if I closed it. His face drew closer, and I could smell peppermint and beer on his breath. I'm not sure what possessed the both of us, but I guess we're just going with the flow.

A loud thunderclap rang above us, followed by a flash of lightning, just as his lips were about to meet mine. He drew back as something snapped in his eyes. I closed my eyes for a split second before noticing him backing away from me. I stood there, unable to move, unable to fathom what would have happened if he hadn't pulled back. As soon as I recovered from my shock, I looked up at him.

"It's starting to get dark. We should return inside." As if nothing had happened, he stated. He appeared calm, in contrast to me, which made me wonder if his attempt to kiss me was genuine or a figment of my imagination.

I gulped quickly before hurrying back inside. Logan was closing in on me, but I didn't dare to turn around. The gravity of what had happened hit me as soon as I shut my bedroom door. I chastise myself for bothering to check in on him in the first place. I put myself in this position.

But why did I react in that manner? How come I didn't move or push him away? Why did my heart react in such a way when he touched me? Thousands of questions raced through my mind. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hurt when he backed away. My face turned red as I replayed the events in my mind. I really need to snap out of this. I looked in the mirror and mentally cursed Logan before deciding to take another shower.

****

I shoved a spoonful of cereal into my mouth while randomly scrolling through the gallery on my phone. There isn't much here, just recent photos from my trip to New York. When I was held as a hostage in Worcester, those men took away my old phone.

I frowned as the house phone rang again. It's ringing for the third time, and no one has answered. No one means Logan, of course, because he is the only other person living in this house besides me. Logan hasn't left the house, because I heard his cell phone ringing as I passed by his slightly ajar bedroom door.

When I heard the ringing sound again, I groaned. I didn't answer the phone at first because it's not my place to do so. I'm just a visitor here, and I'm pretty sure I haven't given anyone the address for Watson Mansion. Even I am unaware of it. I walked over to the small table where the landline was kept, deciding to take the call because I didn't have a choice and the sound of the bell was getting on my nerves.

"Hello," I said.

"Does Mr. Watson happen to be at home?" From the other end of the phone line, a female voice said. When she didn't return my greeting, I raised my brows. Please, some manners?

"Uh, I'm not sure," I admitted doubtfully. Except for his cell phone ringing, I haven't seen him. Perhaps he forgot to take his cellphone?

"Look, Miss, if you find him, tell Mr. Watson to call Mr. Abraham right away because he's causing a commotion in the office demanding to see him."

"Why don't you just call him on his cell phone?" Instead, I asked her, twirling the phone cord with my free hand.

"I wouldn't call the landline if he answered his phone," she said, her voice tinged with annoyance. Rude.

"All right, I'll let him know if I see him. Whom should I say called?"

The line was disconnected after she said, "His assistant." Surprisingly, I look at the phone. Assistants, I thought, were supposed to be friendly and pleasant. She certainly isn't. What if it had been Grecia? Will she be rude to her as well? I put the phone back in its place and went in search of Logan. Maybe he's taking a two-hour shower.

I climbed the stairs sluggishly, and by the time I got to the top, I was out of breath. It would have been extremely beneficial if they had elevators as well. Climbing twenty steps every time is not an easy task, at least not for me.

"Logan?" I knocked twice on the door. There was no response. I knocked again, and this time I got a small grunt in response. I pushed the door open slowly and walked inside, hoping I wouldn't regret my decision. The room was pitch black, with all of the curtains drawn.

I walked carefully to the window and pulled back the curtains, allowing the morning sunlight to stream into the room.

That's much better. When I turned around, Logan was lying on his stomach on the bed, his arm tucked under a pillow and a blanket draped around his waist. His head was turned away from me. When I noticed he was shirtless, the golden rays of sunlight hit the smooth tanned skin of his back, my cheeks flushed. Memories of last night flashed through my mind, but I pushed them to the back of my mind.

I moved closer to him before shaking his shoulder in an attempt to wake him up. He groaned and turned around to lie on his back with his eyes closed.

"Logan," I said again. What's the matter with him?

"Mom," he said quietly, his eyes moving beneath his closed lids.

"Uhhh…It's me, Karolia," I said softly, and he slowly and painfully opened his eyes.

" What time it is?" His voice was raspy, and he sat up slowly. I tried everything I could to take my gaze away from his toned chest and abs. Six-packs!? Please, Lord, help me.

"It's ten o'clock"

"Shit," his voice snapped me out of my trance, and I cleared my throat, composing myself. I noticed him reaching for the water on the nightstand. I grabbed the glass and handed it to him quickly. His fingers lightly brushed against mine as he took the glass; despite the sparks and electricity, what caught my attention was that his fingers were burning. I quickly placed my palm on his forehead to see if he had a fever. Logan jerked back slightly, taken aback by my action. His forehead was searingly hot. He has a fever as a side effect of yesterday's rain.

"Logan, you are ill,"

"I'm fine," he mumbled as he attempted to get out of bed. With my hands on his shoulders, I pushed him down. He looked at me with astonishment.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded angrily, his voice hoarse and slightly cracked.

"You have a fever," I stated firmly.

"I said I'm fine. I have work to do."

"You aren't going anywhere."

"You're not my mother, so I'm not going to obey," he grumbled.

"No, I'm not. "However, your mother is only a phone call away," I smirked. His eyes challenged me, saying, "don't you dare," to which I replied, "Oh, I would. Try me"

His shoulders sagged as he conceded defeat. He is well aware that I will not hesitate to contact her. His teeth clenched. He looks good even when he's sick! I raised my head slightly, pressing my lips together. Why, my lord, why?

"What do you want me to do?" he inquired solemnly. I gave a small smile. He's his mother's son. His acceptance of defeat was based solely on her name.

"Where are additional towels you keep?" I asked. He pointed to a little white table by the washroom. I went up and opened the first drawer to see towels plied nicely. Then I open the second drawer and hand towels were arranged carefully. He's pretty freak! Anywhere I don't even see a speck of dust.

I took one of the towels and rushed into his washroom to wet the cloth. Logan was on a call when I got out of the washroom. His hand went through its messy hair, he was sitting on the edge of his bed.

As I approached him, he looked up at me. Our eyes looked at each other, Logan still talking to somebody on his phone and I standing in front of him, speechless and brainless. His blue eyes. His blue eyes! I feel like I'm drowning. Maybe I'm drowning.

He raised his eyebrows and asked me silently what I was doing, and that's when I came into reality. I cleared my throat before placing the towel on his forehead. He slightly jumped at the coldness and glared at me.

He shuddered, still glaring about at me: "Yes Mr. Abraham, I'm listening to you."

Ahh, now I don't have to tell him my talk with his super friendly assistant.

I gave him a 'what' look. I'm doing my best to assist here. He snatched the towel from my grasp and placed it on his own forehead. I pressed my lips together, trying not to roll my eyes. This guy's mood swings are worse than women on their periods. He acts as if we're friends one day and an annoyance the next.

I shrugged and walked out of the room, deciding to make him a bowl of soup. Soup has always been my go-to comfort food when I'm sick. I hope he feels the same way. I also decided to make ginger and broccoli drinks because I had a few hours before my class started.

I took the soup and drink, as well as the Paracetamol, to Logan's room, where he was shirtless and still on his phone.

I motioned for him to sit on his couch. He simply ignored me and continued with his phone conversation. I'm sure he's mad at me for deciding his routine for the day. Then it's threatening! I pulled my phone from my pocket and pretended to call Grecia. But before I could dial her number, my phone was snatched from my grasp and he sat silently.

"You're such a mama's boy," I chuckled. He clenched his teeth and shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth. My mouth was itching to say, 'I told you not to play in the rain,' but I restrained myself.

"It's just a drink," I explained, attempting to persuade him to consume the broccoli and ginger juice. "It's good for your health," I reasoned once more.

"Then you have it," he said as he went to lie down in his bed. I gave him a sly smirk. This time, I decided not to push him. I set the drink down on his nightstand.

Logan's eyelids gradually dropped, and he drifted off to sleep. That's what paracetamol does to you. I just stood there staring at him for a while. I couldn't sleep last night because I kept thinking about what if. What if there is no thunder? Is he still going to kiss me?

I then considered exploring his room. I know that's a terrible idea. But curiosity got the best of me, and what better time than now? I walked around his room, admiring the photo frames neatly arranged in a row on a glass shelf, along with a few Watson Enterprise mementos. I didn't think of him as the type of person who keeps memories in a frame. I've seen a few other certificates and mementos in the living room, but I've never seen any of their photos there or anywhere else. I believe he prefers to keep his bedroom private. There was one photo in particular that drew my attention. The majority of the photos were of Grecia and Logan, but I also saw one of a boy who appeared to be four or five years old. He was being held by a man in his late twenties or early thirties. It's got to be his father. As I noticed the uncanny resemblance, I smiled. They share the same laugh and eyes. But my smile quickly faded as I felt my heart sink inside my chest at the sight of a particular photograph.

It was a photograph of Logan, Patrick, and a young girl who appeared to be his age. She was beaming at the camera, her arms around their shoulders. Logan and Patrick were smiling alongside her. The girl was stunning in every way. The photograph appeared to have been taken only a few years ago. I replaced the photo and walked out of the room with an unnecessary throbbing pain in my chest.

I'm not sure he remembers what happened yesterday. It was just his drunken self having a good time or........

-------------------------------------------