Logan is leaning against the counter.
Alone.
For a second, I consider retreating to my room. Pretending I forgot why I came out. Pretending my heart didn't just trip over itself at the sight of him standing there in the half-dark.
But that would make it obvious.
And I refuse to be obvious.
So I walk forward like this is normal. Like he doesn't make the air feel heavier.
"You're still up?" I ask, keeping my voice steady.
He pushes himself off the counter slightly, just enough to shift his weight. "Couldn't sleep."
The kitchen light casts soft shadows along his jaw. His hair is slightly damp, like he showered not long ago. He's wearing grey sweats and a black T-shirt, and I hate that I notice.
I move toward the cabinet and grab a glass. My back is partly to him, but I can feel his presence like a physical thing.
The apartment is quiet, too quiet.
Daniel's faint snoring hums from down the hallway.
I fill my glass with water.
"Big day tomorrow," Logan says.
"First official day," I correct softly.
"You nervous?"
I shrug. "A little."
There's a pause.
"You'll be fine," he says, and this time his voice isn't teasing. It's low and certain.
I turn to face him, leaning lightly against the counter opposite his.
We're closer than we should be.
The kitchen suddenly feels too small.
"I don't need you and Daniel hovering," I tell him. "I can handle myself."
"I know."
"Do you?"
His jaw tightens slightly.
"Yes."
The answer comes too quickly.
I study him.
"You don't act like it."
He runs a hand through his hair. "Daniel worries. It's what he does."
"And you?" I ask before I can stop myself.
His eyes meet mine fully now.
There it is again.
That look.
Measured, careful and almost guarded.
"I just don't want anything messing up your first year," he says.
Something about that answer frustrates me.
"You mean guys."
His silence says enough.
I set my glass down a little harder than necessary. "You know I'm not five."
The words hang between us.
He exhales slowly.
"I know."
"Then stop treating me like it."
He steps a little closer.
Not enough to touch.
But enough that I feel it.
"I don't treat you like you're five."
"You and Daniel moved me into an apartment like I'm incapable of living alone."
"That's not why."
"Then why?"
I don't know what I'm asking.
Or maybe I do.
His eyes flicker down to my mouth for the briefest second before snapping back up.
My breath stutters.
"You wouldn't understand," he says quietly.
"Try me."
Another step closer.
Now the distance between us is barely a foot.
The kitchen light hums softly above us. The fridge clicks on in the background. Every small sound feels amplified.
"You're Daniel's sister," he says finally.
The words hit harder than they should.
"And?"
"And that complicates things."
"What things?"
His jaw tightens again.
I realise something then.
He's not calm.
He's holding something back.
And that realisation sends a strange warmth through my chest.
"You're overthinking," I say softly, though I'm not sure I believe it.
"Maybe."
His gaze drifts to my face again. Slower this time. Like he's cataloguing something.
I suddenly feel very aware of the oversized T-shirt I'm wearing. The way my hair falls loose over my shoulders. The bare skin of my legs is under the hem.
He notices.
I know he does.
Because his breathing shifts.
Just slightly.
My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure he can hear it.
"Logan," I start, but I don't know how to finish.
What am I even asking?
Do you remember?
Do you think about it too?
Do I still feel like that little girl to you?
He reaches out suddenly.
My breath stops.
But he doesn't touch me.
He brushes his fingers against a strand of hair near my shoulder barely there like he's unsure if he should.
The contact is light.
But electricity shoots up my spine anyway.
He pulls his hand back almost immediately.
"Go to bed, Bunny," he says, his voice rougher now.
There it is again.
Bunny.
But it doesn't feel childish anymore.
It feels loaded.
"I hate when you call me that," I whisper.
"No, you don't."
He says it so quietly that it almost sounds like a confession.
My throat tightens.
We're too close.
And then...
A loud thud from down the hallway.
Daniel is shifting in his sleep.
The moment shatters.
Logan steps back instantly, running a hand through his hair again.
"Goodnight," he mutters.
And just like that, he walks away.
Leaves me standing in the kitchen, heart racing, lips tingling from a touch that barely happened.
I stay there for a long time after he disappears into the bedroom he shares with my brother.
Staring at the doorway.
Trying to breathe normally.
Trying to convince myself that I imagined the tension.
But I didn't.
I know I didn't.
Because when I finally return to my room and close the door behind me, I lean against it and press my fingers to my lips.
And all I can think about is how close he was.
How easily that moment could have turned into something else.
Nobody forgets their first kiss.
Not even when they're five.
And definitely not when the boy you kissed is standing in your kitchen ten years later, looking at you like he's trying very hard not to remember it too.
Tomorrow is our first official day of college.
Classes, new people, new beginnings.
But lying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I realise something unsettling.
Living here isn't going to be simple.
Because something shifted tonight.
Not loudly not dramatically but enough.
And if that was just the first night under the same roof…
I have no idea how I'm supposed to survive the rest of the year.