Elizabeth Finn - Brother’s Keeper

I have got to get a hold of myself. This is going to be a very long year if I’m going to turn into a hormonal teen again every time she’s around. Hormonal teen or not, I have to take care of this raging hard-on. And as I stand in my bathroom alone, I imagine her kneeling in front of me. My hand becomes her mouth, and I want so much to look down and see her eyes looking up at me as she sucks me deep into her mouth. I come quickly but with little sense of relief. I don’t want it this way. I want her to make me come. But that’s impossible.

As I collapse back in bed frustrated, I can’t help but think that this is just a passing whim. It has been a long and strange weekend, and I’m sure when I wake in the morning she’ll just be Sara’s young friend I’ve known since childhood again. I hope.

* * *

He looked so gorgeous standing there in the kitchen with nothing except his flannel pants on. His chest and arms were well muscled and tight. I could feel my nipples tightening as he watched me and hoped he wasn’t noticing my shaky hands. I lie here in bed after that encounter and feel more inept than ever before. I have so little experience with men it is a joke. Aside from the two times I kissed a guy at some stupid party that Sara dragged me to, I’m worthless. I just wish I knew what it felt like. I don’t think I even wanted to be with those guys. It just seemed like the thing to do. I wanted some experience to lean back on if and when it should ever become useful. But seeing Logan, I knew my body wanted it. I could feel the wetness between my legs. He made me feel so soft and warm when he looked at me. All I wanted were his hands on me—everywhere. This is ridiculous. He has a beautiful girlfriend and would never want to be with someone like me. He thinks I’m just a kid, and men aren’t interested in kids like me. I fall asleep depressed and loathing myself. This is not a new feeling for me.

* * *

When I wake the next morning, I’m more rested than I’ve been in a long time and roll over to see I’ve slept in way too long. It is nearly ten o’clock. I get up, brush my teeth, and shower. As I enter the living room, I see Logan sitting at the kitchen table working on something at his laptop. He looks up and offers me a good morning.

“Hi. I didn’t mean to sleep in so long.” I smile at him.

“It’s okay. I’m sure you were tired. It’s been a long weekend.”

“I better get going. Is there any way I can get my bike from the back of your Jeep?”

“Sure. I’ll get it for you when I drop you off at your house.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can ride from here.”

He looks up from his work, giving me his searing trademark expression of seriousness. “I said I’ll drop you.”

Ten minutes later, as he’s pulling up in front of my home sweet trailer, I thank him again for everything he’s done. And as he is unloading my bike for me, he reminds me, “Don’t forget about our agreement.” I nod. “Rowan, I mean it. I will blow your little story if you don’t play by my rules. Got it?” He is dead serious now.

“I understand.” His face relaxes measurably with my reassurance.

I run inside my house just in time to catch the phone. It’s Sara. She apologizes for not letting me know that she was going to the lake house. Her parents had decided last minute that she should come, too, and she’d tried to call me Friday night, but I’d already left for work and then, as I already know, she forgot her phone. She asks me to come over for Sunday dinner and work on our Composition papers that are due Monday morning. I am nervous about seeing Logan with his family there but don’t have much choice but to go. My report, or at least what I’ve done of it, is saved on their computer. I do all of my papers there because we don’t have a computer. Sara comes to pick me up a half hour later and talks the whole way back to her house. She had a boring weekend and is excited to finally have me to talk to. She asks how my weekend was, and I lie saying I just worked. Normally when something happens that is out of the ordinary, I want to share it with Sara. But even if Logan hadn’t sworn me to secrecy, I’m not sure I’d have told her.

Sara and I help Ronnie in the kitchen with dinner. Logan hasn’t arrived yet, and I find myself nervous as hell waiting for him to get there. When he finally does arrive very shortly before dinner, he seems surprised to see me there. He says hi to his family and me, but when he gets to me, it seems strained and uncomfortable. I wonder if he wants me there at all. I sit across from Logan at dinner and keep catching him looking at me. I can’t tell if he is irritated I'm there or not. He must be sick of me after this weekend and wanting a break, and that admission has me feeling that all too familiar stab of self-loathing guilt.

Sara and I hole up for a few hours in the office, working on our reports, and as I start typing, she starts speed talking. “So whadya do this weekend?” Seriously? She should know me well enough to know I never do anything interesting when she’s gone, but wait, this weekend was interesting.

I lie. “Oh, the usual. Work, TV, work, sleep.”

But the look on my face apparently isn’t convincing. “Huh?” She’s stroking her chin as I try to focus on typing and not on my building anxiety. She gives up her suspicion and finally, at seven o’clock, we both finish and decide to call it a night. As we come back downstairs, I see Logan sitting with his parents around the kitchen island deep in conversation. They look up as we come down the stairs, and I have this awful fear that he’s decided against helping me and has confessed all.

But my fears are calmed when Ronnie speaks. “Are you girls finally finished? These better be good papers as much time as the two of you have been working. I thought we agreed you guys would work on your procrastination issues this year.” She is smiling.

Sara says she is going to run me home when Logan interjects that he’s leaving and can drop me just as easily. Those intense eyes are on me again. Sara agrees, and we say our good-byes for the night.

Logan glances toward me as we head to his car. “You thought we were talking about you in the kitchen just now, didn’t you?”

“I thought it was a possibility. How did you know?”

“The panicked look on your face gave it away. Those big eyes of yours were practically popping out of your head. Well, you can relax. Against my better judgment, I haven’t changed my mind, and I didn’t tell them anything.”

As we drive in silence, I decide to ask the question that has been plaguing me. “Did you not want me to be there tonight? I mean… You’re probably sick of me being around, and I don’t want to be in your way. I just don’t want you to get sick of me.”

“Rowan, I haven’t gotten sick of you in the seven years I’ve known you, and I’m not sick of you now. Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t… I just thought maybe…”

“You’re being ridiculous. I didn’t decide to do any of this out of some sense of obligation. I’m helping you and letting you stay with me because I want to. Don’t ever think you’re some burden to me. You’re not, and you never will be. Okay?” At that, he reaches over and takes my hand in his, glancing at me before pulling his hand from mine and returning his eyes to the road.

I feel the same pang of guilt and embarrassment as I always have whenever his family has paid for a dance lesson, or supported me in some way I didn’t deserve. But I also feel the very unfamiliar feeling of security I’ve started getting used to this weekend. I nod my head.

He pulls up outside my house, and by the sudden drop of his face, it is clear my father’s car in the driveway has not escaped his notice. I start to open the door when he stops me. “I don’t like that he’s here.”

“Logan, if he’s here he’s not out getting drunk. He usually keeps it pretty low key on Sunday nights because he has to work early on Mondays. Please don’t worry about this. I have to see him.”

“I just don’t like it.”

“It will be okay. I promise. I know how to get hold of you, and I will call you if there is any problem.”

“Damn it. If you were at my place, I wouldn’t have to worry about this.”

“Sara is picking me up tomorrow morning for class, and I need to be here. I’ve agreed to stay with you when I need to, but I can’t just because he happens to be home. He lives here. I can’t avoid him completely. You know that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t have to like it.” He reaches up and puts a gentle hand on my cheek, running over the corner of my mouth with his fingers, his brow furrowing. “Row, just promise me. Just … say it. Don’t take any risks with him.”

“I promise.” I look at him a moment longer before hopping out of the car, and as I cut across the lot I can feel his eyes watching me; I know he is unhappy.

The rest of the evening passes without incident, and I take advantage of the quiet to catch up on homework. At ten-fifteen, the cell phone Logan gave me starts to ring. I know it must be him because I’ve not given the number to anyone yet.

I answer, and I instantly recognize the worry in his voice. “Hi. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

“Everything is fine. I’m just getting ready to go to bed.”

“Okay. Call if you need anything.”

“I will. Good night.”

“Good night.”

I wish I was at his place in that nice, big, warm bed or better yet, his bed.

The next weeks pass in quick succession. I begin looking forward to every minute I get to spend with Logan and find I all too desperately look forward to the nights when my father is off on a binge. When I’m with Logan at his apartment, it is comfortable yet intense. Logan loves to cook, and I’ve learned to love spending time with him in the kitchen, laughing, chatting, and debating anything and everything worth debating. Logan loves to challenge me at any chance he gets, perhaps a habit he’s picked up from law school. And I never hesitate to rise to the challenge. He is smart, and the more I talk to him, the more intelligent I realize he is.

My birthday has come with the chill of winter, and like all others before it, it did not include even the utterance of a congratulations from my father. The Harringtons, on the other hand, bought me flowers and a very generous gift card to the mall—naturally, Sara commandeered the gift card and dragged my reluctant butt with her for her very most favorite activity in the world: shopping. And when I arrived at Logan’s later that night after returning to a darkened trailer, signaling that my father was celebrating the blessed day at the bar with anyone but me, I arrived to the sweet smell of baking. A cake was laid out on the table awaiting my arrival. Logan, with a slight sheepishness to his voice, admitted he’d seen my father’s car parked at the bar on his way to the grocery store. Like everything else he cooks and, quite frankly, everything else he does, the cake was perfect. So, I guess I’m now an adult. Yet I feel just as naïve, immature, and helpless as I always have.

In addition to ushering in the celebration of my very insignificant entrance to the world, the change of the season has brought the arrival of winter, and this north country town is beautiful this time of year, blanketed in thick snow that clings to the abundant trees, creating the most beautiful, peaceful world. Life has become peaceful in and of itself by virtue of my new place in it. I’ve always known Logan to be a good person, but the more time I spend with him, the more I see what an amazing man he really is. I find myself more and more drawn to him as time goes on. Not just his looks, he’s always been handsome, but his whole persona. He’s confident, at times demanding, but kind and gentle all the same. I find myself loving his choice of music, his intelligence, his clothes, his smell. Every last thing about him arouses intimate thoughts. I could no more than hear a song on the radio I’ve heard while at his place than immediately be stuck with him in my head. I truly am a pathetic kid drooling after some popular, good-looking kid who is far out of my league.

* * *

I join the Harringtons on their final trip to the lake house to ready it for winter. Logan decides at the last minute to join us, and I fantasize it is me that beckons his presence. I know it’s not, but what can I say; I’m a daydreamer by nature. Working around the lake house with his family is far more fun than I would have ever imagined physical labor could be. I can’t stop looking at Logan every time he’s around me and somehow manage to fall off a stepstool in the kitchen when he suddenly enters. I fall ridiculously to the floor. And as Logan pulls me to my feet, never taking his eyes off mine, I can’t help but notice that his touch lingers just slightly too long, our bodies just marginally too close, and his eyes just a bit too intense. No one else is around, and the shared look between us is palpable to my perception.