Knock on the door woke him, and he sat up, rubbing his face tiredly. Sun was shining, so it was reasonable to assume that it was morning.
“Logan? You awake?”
“Yeah. But not decent. Wait a moment…” He fumbled a clean pair of jeans from his knapsack and put them on before opening the door. Marie stood there, holding a huge pile of books. He grabbed them before the pile toppled over and fell down.
“Thanks! You can put them on the desk. Hungry?” She asked, brushing past him to the bathroom and closed the door only partially to hear his answer. He could hear her sitting down on the toilet seat.
“I could eat something. You need to change your clothes or something? I can wait outside if…”
“Duh. Like there’s anything you haven’t seen before…” She emerged from the bathroom, peeling off her nightgown and threw it to a hamper in the corner.
“I’ll just take a quick shower and we can go. Okay?”
“Okay…”
He grabbed a shirt from the knapsack and put it on, buttoning it. Then stretched back on the bed, closing his eyes and enjoying the soft humming that echoed from the shower. Voice soothed over his nerves, dulling sharp edges and wrapping his senses to fluffy cotton.
“Christ…. You have a great voice…” He murmured, eyes still closed when the shower stopped and she stepped out from the bathroom.
“Couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. But it’s my shower. Hence my right to sing,” she said, opening and closing closets and drawers. He could hear soft rustle of cloth against skin. Noticed bit miffed that instead of heated need to get that cloth off from her he only felt mild curiosity.
“Don’t know anything about art or musical values… But your voice feels good inside of me…”
“Weren’t you supposed to be the resident art teacher?” Marie asked. He cracked his eyes open. She was standing in front of a mirror, braiding her hair. He could see via the mirror the smirk on her face.
“Yeah. Could probably teach those brats how to draw a stick figure if I put up an effort,” he huffed, sitting up and grabbing her hips, pulling her between his knees.
“It’s crooked.”
She stood silent while he braided her hair again. Long brown tresses felt like silk sliding over the pads of his fingers, and rasped softly together.
“Art teacher and a hairdresser? I might have to marry you, mister,” she smirked. Logan chuckled softly, then their eyes met on the mirror.
“And what would your guardian say about that?”
“Considering that you already spent a night in my bed, I don’t think he would have very much to say about that issue.”
“I kind of doubt that. Uh… About that breakfast… Would you mind if I took you out to eat?” Logan asked.
“I wouldn’t mid a bit. Truth to be told, oatmeal is good, but it can get kind of boring if you’re having it every morning.”
They raided the kitchen on their way out and managed to scrounge up decent pile of sandwiches and a thermos full of coffee before cooks drove them out in the sun. His motorcycle was still standing where he left it at night.
“There’s this small pond not too far from here…” She started.
“Know the place. Have been there couple of times.”
They drove to the pond and took out their breakfast. Ate in silence, their gazes fixed to the pond ahead rather than to each other’s.
“Are you… You’re going to leave again, aren’t you?” she asked. He drank the last of his coffee.
“Probably. How did you know?”
“You took your knapsack with you. Are you coming back?”
“Have to. No reason to go to Magnolia Street anymore.”
She sighed and leaned against him, her gloved fingers resting lightly on his thigh. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They just sat and waited until it was time for her to go open the library.
“So…”
“Yeah…” He was sitting on his bike, on hand resting on the handlebar, other fiddling with something metallic on his chest. He pulled it over his head and handed it to her. A dog tag, with the name Wolverine and a series of numbers engraved to it. She took it and stuffed to the front pocket of her jeans.
“I’ll come back for that,” he spoke softly, with slightly raspy voice. She nodded.
“I’ll see you next summer.”
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