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Logan’s mind fades away from the present, rippling through time back to a warm summer evening spent indoors under a blasting AC and with the company of someone… special.
He kisses her a final time before collapsing to the side, breathing heavy and allowing a moment for both of their hearts to settle. These moments in between last for decades but probably only in his mind. They wait to see if it will be a fight or a conversation. Logan takes the first step.
“One of these days,” he says, voice still rough and worn out, “someone is going to come along and fall just by looking at you. Some lovesick dumbass. Probably marry you on the spot.”
He’s trying to initiate that conversation. The one about them. But she doesn’t take the bait. She never does.
Louise shakes her head while settling on the pillow, not quite facing him but still here.
“Not happening.”
“Aww.” Logan turns on his side, resting his temple on his palm. With his other hand, he pulls at her hair. “You care about me? The sex is that good?”
She snorts this time, whacking at his hand and ego in one go. “Hardly. I’m not getting married.”
It hasn’t come up before, but he finds that he’s not surprised by the admission.
But he’s never been one to let her off easy.
“Reeeaaally? It’s not so bad, you don’t have to be scared.”
“What do you know?” Usually, if she had more energy, she would have hit him with the pillow. He’s apparently worn her out because she doesn’t strike him. Instead, she tucks in. It’s uncharacteristically soft.
“I was almost married once,” he asserts, as though that gives him a leg to stand on.
She looks at him curiously and waits for him to give more details. When he doesn’t, she shrugs.
“Yeah, well, it’s not for me.”
Logan wracks his brain for what might have spurred this decision. The words leave his mouth before he finishes thinking them through.
“Weren’t Bob and Linda happy?”
“Yes, they are happy,” Louise corrects. “And they never made me feel like marriage was… a bad thing. I’m just not going to do it.”
“Huh.”
He wants to chide her in that way they played at, dig deeper about why, but it doesn’t feel right. His head dips lower and places a light peck on her shoulder before speaking against her skin.
“So no marriage ever. Not even if the most perfect person comes along?”
Her rolling eyes transcend sight, and he can feel her aiming her annoyance at the ceiling above and maybe the universe itself.
“Then they’re not going to be the perfect person. I’m upfront every time I get into a relationship.” Her tone shifts, and he knows she’s relaying a script she wrote herself. “I’m not looking for marriage. I’ll be committed, I’ll be loyal, but I’m not going further than that. This is something I’ve known for a long time, that I’ll never want marriage or kids. If that’s a dealbreaker, that’s okay.”
She angles her head to give him more room, and he trails lazy kisses along her neck, slowly with no real destination in mind.
“And if they say yes, awesome. If they change their mind later and it’s like oh yeah actually? That IS something I want, can you give that to me?” Louise tsks. “Coming at me like they expected me to change my mind this whole time? Or with an ultimatum? I’m going to feel like I was duped, and I don’t- I’d dump ‘em then and there.”
Realizing she’s let him in more than usual without an insult thrown in the mix. Louise hums. Logan doesn’t press her anymore, maneuvering so that he can play with her breasts while she talks.
“Your turn, asshole. You were almost married?”
He takes a break and rests his head on her pillow, wondering how he failed so spectacularly at using this conversation to get her to leave a toothbrush here.
“Engaged for a while. She, uh,” Logan clears his throat, “thought she was pregnant.”
Louise laughs at that, a genuine laugh even if it’s at his expense.
“See? That’s why people get married. And who wants to make a life decision that way?”
“I’m coming around to your way of thinking,” he says. He squeezes her tit with more intent. “If I say you’re right, can we do it again?”
“You’re already halfway there, aren’t you?” Louise asks, chin indicating to his dick trying to go for round two.
“It’ll be another minute. Doesn’t mean we can’t get started in the meantime.”
“You’re a goddamn whore.”
“And you’re sleeping with the whore, so what does that say about you?” The pillowcase tickles his forehead as he nips her shoulder. “Whore adjacent.”
“Do you want to fuck or not?”
“Yeah okay okay.”
And his mind trickles back from fond recollection to reality.
A quiet bar. A secluded corner.
A redheaded man he happened to bump into, showing off a ring box and fidgeting in his seat.
“Well? What do you think?”
Logan finishes his rum and coke, ice clinking in the glass as he sets it down. He considers switching to something lighter like a wine to make sure he says all the right things. He swallows, blinks, then smiles wide, baring teeth.
“I think that’s a great idea, Rudy.”