Chapter Text
Thumping.
Ungodly, wall-shaking, rhythmic thumping.
Thumping, not from some sort of aggressively passionate lovers, from a bass line designed specifically to irritate the piss out of Louise.
She had already tried it all: fishing out an old white noise machine, putting on a dull podcast, shoving a pillow over her head. None of the whale songs or monotonous hosts droning on about golf swings overpowered the so-called music her neighbors were blasting through the walls.
It was as if the bass had infected her brain, and she was half convinced she would still be able to hear the beat even if she ripped her ears off and stowed away in a soundproof room.
Maybe she could reason with herself if it was a Saturday... or if the sun was up, maaaybe her patience would have been strong enough to dull her violent urges.
But no. The new neighbors were playing dubstep at two in the morning.
On. A. Tuesday.
The song changed, the tempo only got faster and faster, and Louise lost her damn mind.
Ripping her covers off, she thrashed her way out of bed and moved at the speed of rage, her vision tunneling right up until she was slamming on the neighbor’s apartment.
When the two scrawny, long-haired little shitstains finally appeared, it took everything in her to not pull them halfway through the opening and slam the door.
“Yo,” they said in unison, oblivious to her more violent thoughts.
“Don’t ‘yo’ me, you deranged string cheeses!” Louise whisper-yelled, though her voice had more of a crescendo vibe than intended. “What. In your right mind. Do you think you’re doing?”
“Uhhh… chilling?”
“I can hear your goddamn speakers from my bedroom. And we don’t even share a wall!”
“You’re welcome,” the one with glasses said, dazed.
Louise blinked at them, unsure if it was naivety or genuine idiocy. She shook her head and put her hands up, pinching her fingers and shaking with emphasis on each word.
“It is two AM. I don’t care if you shit for brains don’t have work in the morning. I do, so you’re going to put in some headphones, or I’m going to make heads roll.”
The one with greasier hair—she hadn’t bothered learning their names when they moved in—snorted.
“Ex-squeeze me? Dude, even if I wanted to believe you, you’re like maaaybe pushing five feet-”
“I’m five foot-”
“-and there’s only one of you and-” Greasy turned to his buddy Glasses, pointed at him, pointed at himself, looked at the ground, nodded, then back up at her “-two of us. Like… what even would you do?”
“You just moved in, you don’t know me, I get it.” Louise straightened and smoothed her hair. “But here’s the thing, baby dolls. I can ruin your life, and I’ll have fun doing it. This is a simple request though, so it really, REALLY, doesn’t have to come to that.”
“Riiight, simple request... what did you want us to do again?”
At the duo’s snickering, Louise’s eye started to twitch and the strained smile at her version of niceties faded.
The cops were always slow to respond to calls from this building anyway.
They stopped their giggling suddenly, and she subsequently stopped rolling up the pajama sleeve of her swinging arm. Louise cocked her head, waiting.
“Um.” The two neighbors looked at each other, nodded and shrugged.
Glasses cleared his throat. “You know what? You have a point. We’ll put in headphones.”
“Was that SO hard?” Louise asked herself, since Greasy and Glasses had already shut the door in her face.
She waited to ensure they shut off the music. Blessed silence greeted her a moment later, and she sighed in relief.
Ready to return to the comfort of her bed, she took a step back and bumped into a fleshy wall.
“What…”
Peeking up, she found Logan at her back and looking down at her through eye bags and sleep-tousled hair.
With some modicum of peace being restored to the complex, proper two in the morning etiquette resumed, and the duo still in the hall took turns whispering at each other.
“What are you doing out here?” Louise asked.
“What are y-”
She reached up and lightly tapped at his mouth with her backhand before he could finish his signature parroting.
“No. You know what I’m doing out here. Yelling at idiots.”
“So maybe I came to join in the fun,” he said in a husky, just woke up tone.
Wait.
Louise stepped out of his personal bubble and turned. As her eyebrows furrowed to observe him, he stayed put.
He was similarly dressed in pajamas, though his bottoms had a cartoonish print and his top was little more than a white undershirt. She didn’t dwell on that though. More importantly, an unwelcome thought plagued her.
Did they only agree to turn down the music because Logan showed up?
“Yes.”
Her chin jerked, taken aback that he answered her unspoken question, and Logan snickered. “Have I ever told you how easy you are to read?”
“I am not,” she whisper-yelled. “My mind is a steel trap.”
“Well the answer to your steel trap’s question is yes. A lot of people find me scary.”
“You? In your ducky pajamas?”
Logan looked down at his outfit while Louise waited, smug. She was wearing a classic flannel set, so he couldn’t turn this around on her. He seemed to realize the same as he eyed her then shrugged, tugging the side of his waistband away from his body for a second then letting it snap back.
“Yeah, in my ducky pajamas. I’ve got an aura about me. The receptionist said so.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Psh, all you are is tall. Otherwise? You’re just as scrawny as those two.”
“Scrawny??” Logan asked, dropping out of a whisper. “I’ll give you skinny, but scrawny?” he flexed and repeated “Scrawny?” then flexed in a different pose, his voice getting higher every time he asked “Scrawny?”
Her lips twitched to laugh at his peacocking, but she said nothing. Instead, Louise shushed him and turned back to her room. She cocked her head for him to follow her away from dumb and dumber’s place.
“Scrawny or not,” she started in a pointed whisper, “you’ll always be about as intimidating as a kitten to me.”
“Take it back,” he said, returning to his low hush. “I’m intimidating like a big, scary dog. Like… like a doberman.”
“Ha, you wish you were a doberman, Fluffy.”
The lighthearted chat was appreciated since it helped her calm down from wanting to strangle anyone on her warpath. Logan didn’t seem to mind either, a slight smile tugging at his mouth.
Still, it was late—early?—so they bid each other goodnight in front of their respective doors. Louise reached for her handle and froze.
It was shut.
To no avail, she pushed at the door, all the while dread forming in her gut.
This wouldn’t have been a problem a month ago, back when they had real keys with real deadbolts. Nooo, a month ago, Louise could let her door swing to and fro with no thought unless she stuck her key in and locked it. With purpose. As god intended.
However, a month ago, their landlord decided to take on a little pet project and replaced the locks and handles that made sense with electronic ones. Just for funsies. Just for a laugh.
Did Taylor Fischoeder feel the need to address anything of actual importance in their complex? Of course not. The laundry room still flooded every time it rained, the stairwell still felt unnaturally cold and haunted, and the elevator still stuttered at the second floor.
But now?? At least they had new door handles!! New handles that locked automatically after they shut!
After jiggling the useless handle, she patted herself down for keys she knew she didn’t have. In the back of her mind, she registered not hearing Logan enter his apartment.
Louise turned slowly to see the wise-ass with his arms crossed and leaning against his own door, twirling a lanyard with his electronic key on it mindlessly.
“Is there a problem?”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow at her stubborn refusal to acknowledge the situation.
“The front desk is going to be closed. I hear Annie hides in the shadows though if you want to try to find her?”
“No.”
She could call Tina. Tina had a spare key. But, Tina’s number was saved on the phone Louise didn’t have, and if she woke up either of her sister’s kids while calling…
The only numbers she knew by heart were the restaurant and home, but Bob and Linda slept like the dead in their practically ancient age.
Maybe she could break into her storage unit? She had a jacket in there. It could be like a little blanket.
Clearing his throat, Logan shrugged and lazily pushed off the doorframe.
“Well, seems like you have everything handled, so I’m just gonna…” he trailed off.
“Wait.”
“Hm?” Logan paused and looked back over his shoulder. “What’s that, short stack?”
Louise grumbled, barely resisting kicking at the floor or at her apartment door.
“Come again?”
“Can I… crash on your couch until the front office opens?”
A haughty scoff echoed down the hallway, and his hand splayed across his chest
“Oh?? You need ME? Scrawny Kitten Logan?”
“Are you going to be a dick about this the whole time?”
“Probably. Tell you what.” He tapped at his chin. “Yeaahh, I’ll let you stay over. IF you give me one little please.”
Out of the question. Louise moved down the hall. “I’m going to wake up Victor. He’ll let me stay over.”
Logan put an arm up, blocking her path.
“His place smells like hedgehog.”
Shit. It really did.
Logan was conceited, stubborn, and only really cared about things if they personally affected him, but… he also took her seriously even when others were quick to dismiss her. He knew how to relax and when it was time to stop fighting. He had a strong sense of justice and wouldn’t mess with her if she didn’t mess with him first.
Her other options faded from her mind, each one with its own drawback she couldn’t counteract.
She took a deep breath and grit her teeth, relenting to the inevitable. “... can I crash on your couch… please.”
“Actually the price just went up,” he said, that stupid sly smirk taking over his face. “Now I need you to give me a please and admit I’m more intimidating than you.”
“You… ugh.” Louise would need to wash her mouth out after this.
“Mmmmyyesss?”
While Logan’s obnoxious, self-satisfied arrogance choked the air around them, she crossed her arms and glared at the ground.
“I already said the p word once, and I’m not doing it again. But… you can intimidate people even while wearing ducky pajamas, and that’s probably… MAYBE… not something I could do.”
“Passable. Come on in.”
While she had been inside of his apartment a couple of times now, she never got a good look around, usually preoccupied with whatever inane task that led her into the lion’s den.
It was cozy, the furniture matched, and everything was arranged in a way that made sense. It was as if she had walked into a show room at any Buy Design: normal and put together. Still, she noted a distinct lack of… something, but she couldn’t tell what.
Mystery unsolved, Louise shrugged and moved further into the living room.
She picked up a throw pillow, laying it flat to use as a pillow-pillow but a hand on her shoulder stopped Louise from crashing down.
“You’re not sleeping on the couch.”
“I’m not sleeping on the floor?!”
“Y- I have two bedrooms, dummy.” Logan rolled his eyes. “Give me some credit. I’m more of a gentleman than that.”
Ignoring that he just called her dumb, she shrugged.
“I assumed it would have been some sort of tricked out man cave or some other heterosexual nonsense.”
“It used to be, but then Mom had to stay over for a weekend and,” he squared his shoulders and pointed his nose upward, “‘honestly, Logan, did you ever grow up? A futon?’”
“Does Cynthia ghostwrite for the Sofa Queen?”
“Who?”
“You know…” Louise hummed a few words of her mom’s favorite local commercial. “Something something ‘normal adults do not own futons’ lady?”
“OH. Yeah, she might have. I ended up swapping out my perfectly reasonable and functional futon for an expensive ass guest bed. So thank my mom I guess.”
“I’d rather eat glass.”
“Fair. I mean, she’s my mom, but…”
Logan trailed off and scratched at his arm.
“Do you want to… talk? about it?” Louise asked tentatively before giving him an out. “Or you could give me a tour.”
“Yeah, you’ve heard all this before. Anyway, what you see is what you get, but sure. Follow me through Casa de Logan.” He gestured widely around them. “Here we have our dining nook and living room. Excellent for hosting parties and seating a whopping eight people.”
“Wooow, eight whole people?”
“Eight and a half if you squeeze.”
She doubted he even knew eight people that he’d actually invite over anyway, much less a half. At most, she’d seen his longtime friends Caleb and Scotty frequenting his apartment and then his parents that one time.
Speaking of, Louise ventured deeper into the living room to pick up the single picture frame on a side table.
It was a posed photo, Cynthia sitting on a front porch chair while Tom and Logan stood behind her, all smiling though she could barely tell. Their faces were much tinier than the pale blue house they were in front of. The sunlight hit the structure just right, illuminating its size and intricate detailing, but it also forced the secondary subjects to squint at the camera.
“Oh that,” Logan said, coming up behind her. “That’s their beach house.”
“And this was the one picture you thought was worth displaying?”
“There’s another picture on the other side.”
She flipped the frame around but only saw the black backing and stand.
“Seems like a lot of work to take a picture out and flip it around,” she said, assuming he wasn’t trying to mess with her.
“No, I mean- look.”
He took the frame from her and showed a switch she hadn’t noticed before, camouflaged in the dark of the room. He pressed it, and the photo swapped to one of his friends in a sultry pose. Caleb’s long red hair nicely contrasted his teal short-shorts that said “juicy” on the butt.
Snorting, she tapped at the glass. “Gene has the same pair of shorts in red.”
“I bet they rock those.”
“They do. I’m still not completely convinced they don’t wear them underneath every outfit.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Nah, I don’t have the... required equipment to pull it off.”
Logan sucked in his cheeks, stifling laughter. “You mean... you mean, you don’t have the assets?”
“Go ahead, laugh it up. Hardy har har. Gene got the curves, the height, and the best legs in the family, and I got a long pinky toe.”
“Hey, come on, don’t sell yourself short.”
Her fist moved on its own accord, smacking into his bicep. He looked down at her, shocked, then seemed to replay what he said in his own head.
“Oh!” Logan laughed and set the frame down. “That one was an accident, but I’ll take it.”
Jutting his thumb behind him, he indicated to the hallway. She spared one last glance at Caleb’s wicked grin then followed him as he pointed at the kitchen. While she poked her head in, expecting a sarcastic comment about the limited counter space, Logan surprised her with a question.
“What’s Gene up to these days?”
“Mostly bouncing between shows. They’re thinking about being cruise ship entertainment but said they weren’t sure if they were ready for the big 20,000 leagues again.”
“They can just... decide to get on a cruise ship? There’s not some kind of crazy application process?”
“I don’t know about other cruise ship entertainment, but people go hard trying to grab Gene. Last drag night, FOUR scouts showed up trying to get a piece of ‘em.” Louise continued to face the sparse kitchen as she admitted the next part. “I actually thought there were five and may have, uh, accidentally pushed an overeager fan into a ball pit.”
“You made a mistake? You?”
She crossed her arms in defiance, still not facing him. “I was protecting the family!”
“Alright, Don CorLouise,” he said, laughing and nudging at her arm until she looked his way. He had one of those lopsided grins on his dumb face, and she hated it. “Why don’t you ever invite me to Gene’s shows? If they’re this wild, I wanna go.”
“Because we’re not friends, doofus.”
“Allegedly.”
“Allegedly, my ass.”
She pushed past him and pointed to the hallway. “I hope the rest of your tour isn’t as boring as this kitchen.”
“Pssh, it’s gonna be so exciting. For example,” Logan patted a shut door, “this is a super fun closet, where I keep super fun things like my vacuum. And over there is my bathroom, but you’ve already seen that.”
It took her a moment to pull up the memory but laughed all over again when she spotted the TV mounted to the wall opposite the toilet and bathtub.
“God, you are such a bachelor,” she snorted. “So you can’t have a futon, but you can have an entertainment system in the bathroom?”
“I pick my battles.”
Louise broke away from him and ventured further in. Picking up a bottle from the shower caddy, she read the label.
“Shamp-eaux? A luxurious blend of Himalayan rose and ginger for fine hair.”
“Gimme that,” Logan hissed, swiping the bottle from her hands and setting it back on the rack.
With little fanfare, he put his hands on Louise’s shoulders and guided her out of the bathroom, cutting off her access to his other beauty products.
Logan tried to turn them into what she assumed was the guest bedroom based on placement, but instead she kept moving straight to another closed door.
“Nope,” he said simply, not letting her go. “That. Is my bedroom. Off limits.”
“Oh okay, but what if I just,” Louise started then limbo-ed away from his hands and opened the door.
The room was a mess with several blankets tossed around at the foot of the bed and on the floor, probably from when he was woken up by her yelling at the neighbors. In addition to the blankets and clothes strewn about haphazardly, the room felt so much smaller than the rest of his place.
She could make up the “why” pretty easy. It was practically overflowing with stuff, tchotchkes shoved into every possible opening of space. Lopsided shelves held a skateboard, baseballs, a globe, fake plants, trophies, and so much more that should have sent the planks tumbling to the ground under their weight.
Despite Logan’s squawking, she again went deeper into the not-quite-a-hoard but almost. In between admiring a mother of pearl lamp and a glass pipe, she had an epiphany.
Personality. That was what the first part of his apartment was missing. The living room was practically bare of all but one personal item, instead choosing to stuff them all in here.
“You have a record player??” Louise asked and kicked aside a discarded hoodie to look through his collection of vinyls. “Why don’t you keep this in the living room? That’d be a better place for listening to music.”
He picked up his hoodie and threw it onto an accent chair already overflowing with clothes. “Because it’s mine.”
“It’d still be yours out there. Just in a different room.”
“Yeah, but when it’s in here no one can say anything about my taste in music. Because no one is SUPPOSED to be in here,” he said pointedly.
“No kidding,” Louise said, pulling out a record then looking around. “Seriously, how do you even bring a date back here?”
“I haven’t had anyone over in, uh… a while. For reasons.” Logan coughed, tugged the record from her hands and returned it to its spot in his collection. “From what I remember though, guests are not supposed to be this unruly.”
Ah.
There was a feeling she hadn’t had in a while. Guilt tickled at her heart. He was giving her a place to stay for a few hours, and she was invading his privacy.
Louise stood suddenly, leaving the room before anything else caught her eye. Instead of moving ahead to the guest bedroom, she waited against the wall for him to catch up.
When he joined her, he cocked his head but said nothing.
“You don’t need to worry about your taste in music though. You’ve got some good stuff in there. No reason to hide.”
“... thanks,” he said slowly, unsure, while he shut his bedroom door.
She offered no other platitudes, still standing against the wall and motioning for him to take the lead. He didn’t continue and crossed his arms.
“What are you doing?” Logan asked.
“What? I can’t just stand here?”
“You can, but you’re doing it all… awkward.”
“Honestly,” she sighed and shrugged. “I don’t actually go to other people’s places too often. I mean, I go see Tina and Gene at their homes, but I’ve never been all that… social. Am I doing this wrong?”
“You are now with all that standing business. Touch anything you want. Besides, you’re not really a guest anyway.”
“You literally called me an unruly guest.”
“Forget I said that. You’re more like… an unfortunate hostage.”
She snorted. “Hostage would mean you get something out of this deal.”
“Well, you DID say please, which is pretty big.”
Logan jerked his head over to the guest room, and they both moved on.
While the room had a few effects, mainly his gamer set up, it was a stark contrast to the crowded bedroom. The bed was made, the consoles and games were stacked neatly, and the hotel art on the walls all sat straight.
“So do you turn off the rainbow keyboard when other people sleep in here? Or is that always on to let people know you are very serious about your pew pew games?” Louise asked, teasing returning to her naturally.
“Hey, you don’t know that I only play shooters. I could be on some really intricate games. With stories. And that have an impact on the world.”
“How much of your time is spent on COD? Answer honestly.”
He was quiet then shoved at her arm. “Shut up.”
“I love this actually. You’ve stayed over in my apartment so much-”
“So much is an exaggeration.”
“-like all the time constantly, so now I get to see the skeletons in YOUR closet. Which…”
Louise reached for the handle to the closet, but Logan bodily blocked her.
“I take it back. You can only touch some things, and there’s nothing to see in there.”
“Liar.”
“There’s nothing… cool? In there?”
“That’s probably true.”
Still, he didn’t move, so Louise resorted to her secret weapon, poking at his sides and under his armpit. He jerked involuntarily, a laugh escaping him even as he tried to remain in front of the door.
Finally, he twitched far enough for her to throw open the closet, and Louise stopped tickling him to gape.
“YOU were an essential oils distributor??”
“Ughhh, no.” Logan straightened his undershirt then gestured at the massive supply of boxes upon boxes of oils. “My aunt was really into it, and Mom would give me A Look every time I tried to skip out of buying any. I think she started offloading the shit on me as a punishment.”
The overwhelming smell finally hit her, and she coughed through her next sentence. “Your mother is… a piece of work.”
“She’s something. ‘S not all bad. Me and Caleb made a game out of it.”
He grabbed one of the boxes and brought it over to the bed, sitting down to open it.
Save for the sounds of him fiddling with the box, Louise stood in mostly silence and felt the doubt creep in again, unsure if she was striking the right balance of guest and hostage. She shifted her weight between her feet as she looked in between the gaming chair and the bed.
Logan looked up at her expectantly while she continued to stand in the middle of the room. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed at her wrist and tugged her to sit next to him.
“You can sit wherever; stop being weird about it.”
Preoccupying herself with looking at his hands, Louise took a seat next to him as he procured a vial and handed it to her.
“So here’s the game. Don’t!” Logan pulled the bottle out of her hands when she tried to inspect it. “Don’t look at the label. You’re gonna smell it, then guess what it is and what it does.”
“Alright, hit me with your best shot.”
When he returned the vial to her, she twisted off the cap and sniffed. It was cool and stung at her nose in a minty way.
“That’s obviously peppermint. Reducing anxiety?” Louise asked, remembering the way her Aunt Gayle would go limp at a single whiff.
“Okay, that was an easy one. Two points for you.”
Without looking at the box, he picked up another oil at random and brought it to his nose, much to her dismay.
“No fair, you’re gonna know all these already.”
“That closet has like a hundred of these things in it. There’s no way I’d have them memorized unless I had literally no life.” He sniffed at the bottle. “Cyprus, energy boost.”
He revealed the label to her, and they both saw he was right.
“Two points to the guy who has no life,” Louise snorted.
Though her urge to peek at the label was strong, she kept her eyes closed as she guessed the next one.
“Lemongrass? For… fuck, period cramps?”
Logan made a buzzer noise. “We were looking for lemon oil for pain reduction. Buuut I’m feeling generous, so you can have a point for that.”
Again, he guessed his scent and benefit correct. They went back and forth for a few more rounds until something truly awful hit her.
Gagging, Louise put the cap back on tight then violently shoved the vial into his chest and away from her senses. “Feet?? Helps with smelling like cheese that was dropped in a litter box?”
“That would be valerian. Looks like that’s seven for me and four for you.” As Louise huffed, refusing to reach for another scent, Logan’s grin grew. “Come on, it’s a good game.”
“It’s only good if I’m winning.”
“You can’t win everything, Louise.”
“Says the guy that sunk the eight ball when I wasn’t looking.”
“You can’t prove that!”
“Suuure,” she drawled leaning into him. She elbowed his side. “Admit it. You’re a sore loser too.”
He blocked her elbow with his own arm and kept it there.
“I will admit no such thing,” he said, laughing and looking down at her.
Side by side, they kept silent, smiles slowly fading as they registered their closeness. Logan cleared his throat and then pointed up at her beanie with his chin.
“Do you sleep in that thing?”
“Not usually, but I guess grabbing it today was muscle memory.” Louise readjusted her beanie and moved away from him. She pulled a leg up on the bed and shrugged. “I don’t even remember leaving my apartment.”
“Serious?”
“Yeah. I feel like, if I did have any sort of consciousness, I would have grabbed my sword. THEN I wouldn’t have needed a bodyguard with those two idiots…”
Logan smacked his lips in disbelief. “Don’t be like that. I like picking on you, but you didn’t actually need a bodyguard.”
“Those guys weren’t taking me seriously.”
“Sure, they were underestimating you. But, if you gave it another three minutes, you would have set them straight. I was just impatient and kinda… sped things along.”
Louise turned away from him, glaring at a spot on the floor. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Maybe. Is it working?”
Taking a breath, she realized the irritation was fading from her body, only a shudder from the slight chill remaining. In fact, a sluggishness took over and she felt her limbs grow heavier.
“Maybe,” she said and yawned.
“Ahh, so maayybe I’m not all bad then?”
“No… not all bad.”
Logan shrugged, grabbing the essential oil box and going to put it away, likely registering her yawn as a warning.
After shutting the closet door, he made a few more comments about where she could find things in the room if she needed them. Just as he put an arm out to the door, his eyes darted down then back up quickly.
“Are you uhh… cold?”
Louise didn’t have to look down to know what he spotted through her thin pajamas.
“Uhhh pervert?”
“What am I supposed to do? Just not look?!” Logan caught his tone and groaned. He eyed the ceiling as she crossed her arms. “Sorry, I’m embarrassed, and I’m getting defensive.”
“It’s late, not the best time for emotional regulation.” Louise shrugged then moved on. “Why is it freezing in here?”
“The way the ducts work, this room gets a little colder. There’s an extra blanket in the closet.”
“From the essential oil closet?”
“The smell’s probably not that bad,” he said, though it was evident he too was uncertain.
As soon as it was pulled out, Louise felt the beginnings of a migraine pick up at the barrage of scents hitting her all at once. The blanket was definitely not spending the night with her.
Logan agreed, comically tossing the blanket back into the hell closet it came from.
“Alright I guess you can borrow one, ONE, of the blankets from my bed, but what are you going to give me for it?”
“A free show wasn’t enough for you?”
“Louise Belcher, I hardly even got a good look.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “This time, I think I want you to say how cool me and my stuff are and also that I have great taste.”
She got up to pull the covers back on the guest bed. While her back was turned, she called out to him, sure to put an extra layer of sappiness in her voice.
“You are soOoOo cool with just THE best stuff and definitely not at all insecure about your taste.”
When he didn’t respond, she peeked over her shoulder. He rolled his eyes at her sarcasm finally but left to grab a blanket from his bedroom.
This was… nice. The room was cold, sure, but it didn’t feel haunted and the scents stayed contained once the closet shut. However, if Logan brought the valerian out again, Louise was spending the night with their other floor neighbor, Victor, deciding hedgehog smell would be much more tolerable.
She was just trying to figure out what motel Logan might have stolen the wall art from when he returned, throwing a charcoal duvet over her head.
Completely enclosed in fabric and with her mind already on scents, Louise couldn’t help but notice the blanket smelled like him, the spiced and floral remnants of his shampoo and laundry detergent probably. She recalled the t-shirt Tina washed and that Louise was supposed to return.
It wasn’t her fault it was a good lounging size.
She ignored her internal voice, pulled the blanket off with little fuss, and mumbled “thanks. This’ll work.”
“Good. Now go to sleep and don’t break anything. My patience only extends so far, Smellcher.” He was almost out of the door before catching himself. “What time do you have to be up?”
“The office opens at eight, right? So I guess before then.”
“I’ll wake you up. Is there… anything I should know?”
“Uhh…” Louise thought about it then shrugged. “I’ll probably wake up on my own, but in case I don’t... knock loud? If the first thing I see waking up is you, I might come out swinging.”
“See, I had a feeling. That’s why I asked.” He grabbed the door to close behind him, still speaking. “I know you so well.”
“Whatever you say, Bush.”
-
Groaning, Louise rolled over onto her stomach. She hadn’t been able to sleep, a hunger pain kicking at her gut. Sure, her dinner had been light, but not light enough to warrant her body’s dramatics.
When sleeping face-planted on the mattress didn’t work, Louise gave up and slinked out of bed.
Unsure of how much time had passed, she snuck out of the guest bedroom quietly. Everything was dark and still, save for the hum of the AC. His door was shut so that probably dampened some of the noise from her footsteps.
The last thing she needed was Logan waking up and kicking her out because she couldn’t be a considerate guest. Again. Plus, after she had railed the neighbors for being too loud, she’d never hear the end of it.
She didn’t remember there being any tripping hazards on the floor, but she moved cautiously with a hand against the wall to guide her down the hallway.
Finally tiptoeing into the kitchen, Louise didn’t bother with a light. As softly as she could, she pulled open the refrigerator door to find absolutely nothing.
The fridge door contained about every sauce or condiment she could ever want but nothing to put it on. There were a few take-out containers, but they all had his name written on them?
“He lives alone. Why…” Louise whispered.
Maybe she could swipe the lone pickle floating in a jar in the back of the fridge if she got really desperate but hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
She shut the door then tried the pantry. The shelves lacked anything that didn’t require a microwave or oven to prepare.
This was ridiculous. How could he not have a single granola bar or jug of cheesy puffs laying around? He was definitely the type.
In a last ditch effort, she opened a cabinet by the stove.
She blamed his organizational skills. Of course she did. She certainly wasn’t going to blame herself for the baking sheet, several pans, and measuring cup that all came crashing out and onto the floor in a cacophony so glorious she wondered if the neighbors would come bang on this door in vindication.
Louise shrunk in on herself and held her breath, praying Logan was a deep sleeper.
No such luck, she heard a bedroom door creak open and footsteps approaching with little hurry. The blonde lazed his way around the corner, yawning and propping himself against the kitchen entryway.
He blinked at her twice then spoke.
“You’re not at the end of the rainbow anymore, pal. If you’re looking to steal my gold, you’re out of luck.” He paused. “I’m implying you’re a lepr-”
“A leprechaun, yeah no, I got it.” She picked up the equipment that had fallen then stacked them on the counter, no longer caring to quiet her movements. “I’m trying to find a snack, but you apparently set booby traps in your own kitchen. Do you ever actually cook?”
“Not really. I find ordering delivery to be the better bang for my buck.”
“Fucking rich kid.”
“You say that a lot, but you know I’m living in the same cheapo apartment you are.”
“But you have two bedrooms. AND you still act like a rich kid, which is imperative here, Logan Flush.”
“Flush?”
“Like…” Louise cocked her head to the side and twirled her wrist. “Like flush with cash.”
“Oof that’s one of your weaker ones.”
“Think you could do better?”
He huffed and crossed his arms in defiance. “You know, in all the time we’ve known each other, I’ve not ONCE made a Belcher-Felcher comment, and I feel like I deserve some credit for that.”
“What.. what’s that? Felcher?”
“Ohhh you don’t know what felching is?” Logan’s eyebrows shot into his hairline before he tried his best to school his expression. “Okay here’s what you do. Get on a public computer and google felching, no incognito browser.”
“You’re an ass.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged and looked around his small kitchen. “As far as snacks go, there’s not much. Sorry to disappoint your operation. But, I guess I do have this.”
From one of the higher cabinets above the stove, he retrieved a bag of corn-nuts, a snack that remained ever-present in gas stations even though no one actually bought them.
Regardless of the questionable taste in food, Louise was hungry. She reached for the green and yellow package, but he held it up and out of her grasp.
“Ahp up up. What are you gonna give me for it?”
“An emphatic thumbs up?”
“No, it has to be something I want.” Logan flicked the bag a few times while he pretended to mull things over. “Hmmm, how about this time you can tell me how intelligent, hot, AND incredibly generous I am?”
“You’re mispronouncing egomaniacal.”
“I prefer to think of it as confidence.”
“Oh you do, do you?”
Logan didn’t respond, instead waving the bag back and forth and then cupping his own ear.
God as her witness, she wouldn’t feed his ego again. His ideology seemed to wrap around the idea of fair trade, eye for an eye. If she came up with something good enough, he very well could end up owing her in this deal. This was a game, and she intended to win.
Louise chewed on her inner cheek in thought, and it hit her.
He… had kissed her cheek before in thanks.
It was late; she could always blame sleep deprivation. Or, she could tell him he dreamed the whole thing. Either way, she wouldn’t have to inflate his already giant head with inane and empty flattery.
“Do you remember a few weeks ago?” Louise started. “We were talking.”
“Can you be more specific? We talk a lot.”
“Some might say too much for people who hate each other.”
Logan shrugged, glancing away and down the hallway for an imperceptible half-second. “Who allegedly hate each other.”
“Allegedly.” She inhaled again. “I mean, when we were on my couch. Watching that documentary.”
“Oh,” he said, then stilled. “I remember.”
Her entire body felt… heavy. Her intentions seemed to register in the air around her. Time in the weird in-between hours of the late night/early morning always felt weird, so who was to say the tension settling over them wasn’t because of the three am vibes?
Logan knew. Which was weird because she barely knew what she was doing, but he knew. She could tell with how he let her tangle her hands in his shirt and pull him down like she had done so many times before except… slower now. And with a purpose she was unfamiliar with.
She kissed him, and she remembered why all the movies made this out to be such a big deal, his lips against hers feeling so right.
She kissed him, and the shock, the softness, the intensity combined had them both shuddering.
She kissed him, and for the first time all night he didn’t have a dumbass retort lined up.
A plastic crinkling from Logan readjusting to- to what? Pull her closer? Push her away? -broke her from the trance.
Louise swiped the bag from his hand and pushed past the blond into the hallway, refusing to look at him. He stayed planted against the frame of the kitchen entryway, silent… for a few seconds.
“Did you just pimp yourself out for corn-nuts??” Logan called after her as she retreated to the guest room. “They’re not even that good?!”
A few days later, they were in front of his apartment door again, now fully dressed in the light of day.
“Look, don’t make this weird,” Louise said, fishing an extra electronic key from her pocket and extending it to him.
Logan’s eyebrows furrowed as he inspected the offering then looked back up at her, curious.
“And I have cameras all over the place,” she continued, avoiding eye contact, “so I’ll know if you’ve been in without my say so.”
He hummed and looked down at her key again. Sniffing, he disappeared back into his own apartment while she stood there, arm extended like an idiot.
Returning after a moment, Logan swapped the key in her hand with an almost identical one—the only difference was a number ending in three instead of four.
Officially, they now had keys to each other’s apartments.
They stared, frozen until Louise coughed.
“This is a thing neighbors do.”
“Totally.”
“Sometimes you get locked out, and who better to hold onto a key than someone who is right here.”
“Exactly.”
An awkward pause settled around them.
“You’re making it weird.”
“No, I’m not. You are.”
“No, you.”