“Where do you think you’re going?” Dressed up. After nine o’clock. Bobby Drake hanging from her arm. What the fuck is it with those two? Always sneaking around.
“We were going to see a movie. We have professor’s permission.” Permission? Oh, the curfew…
“What movie?”
“Logan, we’re already late. I’ll tell you about it when we get back home, okay?” You don’t have the time to tell me the name of the movie you’re ‘going to see’?
“Okay.”
“He freaks me out.”
“Oh, come on, Bobby. It’s not like he has done anything to you.” Not yet I haven’t.
“Always creeping around, stalking at your heels… Doesn’t that scare you? After what happened?” Scare her? Oh, Bobby. You have no idea…
“Can we not talk about this? We are already late. Just go and get your car out…” Leaving front porch, can’t hear what they’re talking anymore. Doesn’t matter. It’s not like I haven’t heard that particular conversation dozens of times already. It always ends up the same. At first they start picking on each other. Little remarks. Nothing serious. Goes on for couple of hours before they bring out the big guns. First Bobby, then Marie. Both accusing each other about things that they have no true power over with. Marie’s crush on me. Bobby’s crush on Allerdyce. Both infatuations long gone, and if they don’t stop dragging them out in the open, somebody’s going to get hurt.
It’s actually interesting to watch. I have a ringside seat to a never-ending battle. Literally. Granted, I usually get only Marie’s side from those fights. For some reason she has gotten in to that pretty head of hers that she can confide to me. I don’t mind her walking in to my room as long as she respects my boundaries. I sit on the bed, she on the windowsill. She keeps talking, sometimes several hours. I have long ago learned to filter all unnecessary out, and I’m only picking up new details when they emerge from the midst of her spiel. It’s like a fucking soap opera. And I’m only waiting for the grand finale.
“Fuck.”
“Hi kid. How’d the date go?” For Christ’s sakes! I have to stop smiling!
“Like you didn’t already guess. Bobby’s an ass.”
“What did he do this time?” Groped you? Would do you good.
“Nothing. Same old… I’m so sick and tired of this shit! Why does he always have to…”
“What? Spit it out.”
“He thinks I’m in love with you. Said that he heard Jean and Scott talking about us earlier.” Jean and Scott?
“What were they talking about?” Details.
“I don’t know! Bobby wouldn’t tell to me. Something about dreams. How somebody was projecting something, and Jean had troubles of sleeping because of it. Either one of us, or maybe us both. I don’t know.”
“Because somebody dreams too loud, Bobby thinks you’re in love with me? I thought he was smarter than that.” I really thought. After all, he’s managed to date Marie nearly a year without getting killed. And why is she blushing?
“Not because somebody dreams too loud. It’s the dreams itself.” I don’t get it.
“You have to be little more specific.” And here I thought it was physically impossible to get any redder than she already was.
“I think they were talking about…” Stop fucking mumbling.
“Excuse me?”
“Bobby told me that Jean was so annoyed because she keeps seeing us in bed. Every night.” Um… In bed? As in sleeping together? Or…
“Jean can’t sleep because she’s dreaming about us mating like rabid bunnies?”
“Oh, God, Logan! Why? It sure as hell isn’t me!” She’s red like boiled crab, nervous and sweating, but she’s not lying. This is getting interesting.
“It isn’t me either. You’re not exactly my type. I leave lethal little girls to their boyfriends.”
Okay. That went really well. As soon as she stops crying I can toss her out.
“Fuck you!”
“Well, fuck you, too! I’m not the one who walked in and accused me of perving after you!”
“I wasn’t blaming anybody about anything!” Oh, yeah?
“Sure sounded like that!” And how old am I again? Two?
“I just told what I heard from Bobby! I thought you’d like to know before they start asking questions!” Start asking questions?
“What the hell do you mean?” Calm down, buddy-boy. Calm down. For once, listen. Oh, no you’re not leaving…
“Logan, let me out!”
“Not before you tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t know! I’m not the one with weird dreams! But if I were Jean, or any other adult, I would sure start asking questions right about now!” Huh? Stop shouting and speak English.
“What questions?”
“Questions abut those dreams and their source. Who’s the dreamer, and is there a specific reason behind those dreams. Questions that could easily land both of us in trouble…”
“Like I said, I don’t do little girls. I don’t dream doing little girls. And I’m not as sure as hell dreaming about doing you. Let them ask. If they come to you with their questions, tell them to come to me.” And now scoot. I have some things to take care of. Some things to find out. Time to dig up our little dreamer… And what the fuck are you doing now? I told you!
“Thanks, Logan… Thanks. I was worried, but… I’m not anymore. Thanks.” Stop sniffling and fucking hugging me! I don’t want snot all over my shirt! I don’t want those hands on me!
“Let go.”
“Oh, sorry…”
“Stop being sorry and try to remember next time. No touching.”
Shit. She actually is a nice kid. Decent company. I don’t want to keep snapping at her like that. I don’t like it when she hurts. Not really. Fuck… Why can’t she just keep her hands and other parts to herself? She tries to hug, I bite off her head. Figuratively speaking. It’s buried so fucking deep inside of me. Fear. Self-preservation. She’s the stopper, and I don’t want to be stopped.
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