He thought about her constantly. He was obsessing. He knew he was obsessing. He couldn’t help it.

In a classroom, in the dining hall, in the gym—he would catch glimpses of her without being too obvious.

He would see her sparkling eyes, her lips—so often parted, smiling. Her skin. Soft and smooth as a baby’s. Healthy, glowing. Eminently touchable.

But not imminently. There would be no touching. Touching was forbidden.

It wasn’t that her skin was killer.

Not anymore. She’d taken the cure. She could touch and be touched.

And she was enjoying it. She was hugging everybody under the sun. From her teachers to the UPS delivery person.

She mercilessly teased Wolverine, flirting with him, looking in his eyes, smiling at him. He wasn’t sure how to take it. But it sure made him feel good. He laughed, he teased back, he went around smiling, and was occasionally caught humming.

She would catch his eye when they were in a crowd. She’d wink at him or blow him a kiss before running off. She made him feel special.

Logan found himself smiling at his image in the mirror, his eyes shining.

He loved her.

It was something that just happened. He hadn’t sought it. Hadn’t wanted it. Didn’t want to trust another human being (or mutant) that much. He’d given up trusting a long time ago. So long ago it was buried in the past—in his forgotten history.

But each smile, wink, hug, each evening spent talking together, or watching movies, or having dinner—made him feel good.

Good about her. Good about them. Good about himself.

Later, of course, he’d realized how pathetic he’d been. How easily he’d been played with. Because it had been just a game with her. Just a game she’d been playing. A game of “Let’s see if we can get the big bad Wolvie to fall in love with me.”

He never knew whether she’d had a bet going with Jules or not.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t matter.

It was amazing the plunge between being on top of the world and feeling like the ground was no longer solid. He had no balance. Literally. He would try to walk and he’d feel like he was falling over.

They’d been in the pickup truck, Logan driving, talking like they usually did. He stole a glance at her. She was beautiful and he loved her.

He almost missed the words she said because he was looking at her profile so intently.

It was like he felt the knife enter his belly before the meaning of the words entered his brain.

Heightened awareness meant heightened feeling. And he’d never ever wanted so much to be normal (whatever that was) as at that moment.

“I don’t do mutants,” she said.