I wake up to the vibration of my phone ringing in my pocket. I pull it out, with my eyes still shut, hoping that I can go right back to sleep if I don't open them too much. I squint one eye open to look at the bright screen and see Marc's name flashing across the top. I decline his call and toss my phone back on the bed. I'm not going to let his call ruin the best night of sleep I've had all week.

I close my eyes and reach my arm out to pull Logan to my chest, but when I feel for her, she's not there. I open my eyes and quickly realize that she's not in bed at all. I glance around the room and back to the floor where I found her hours ago, but she's nowhere to be found. This is now the third time that Logan has left me in the morning, and waking up to her being gone is almost as bad as not getting to sleep with her at all.

I adjust my eyes to the sun peeking through the window as I roll out of bed and put my shoes on. If she left before I was awake, I doubt she would want me to be here still when she returned. I don't know what happened; I thought everything was okay. I know she said she just wanted to be friends, but after sleeping the way we did, I hoped that Logan had changed her mind. But now, I think she may be regretting our sleepover.

Realizing this is the first time I've been alone in her room, I take a moment to glance around quickly. Her closet is open and looks to be packed full of clothes, which doesn't surprise me. Even when she's dressed casually, Logan always looks stylish and put together. Her desk is clear besides a few papers on top of her closed laptop. Above her bed is a map, the kind where you scratch off the states you've visited, but she only has six scratched off. Two of them are California and Minnesota, and I remember when she told me that going to Spain was the first time she had left her home state.

Her small bookshelf is jam-packed with the most random collection of books. They include everything from Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, to The Book of Basketball by Bill Simmons. This girl is truly an anomaly, and those two books remind me of precisely who Logan is. A feminine beauty with a tomboy attitude.

There is a single framed photo on one of the shelves. It's the only photo in her room, which I find strange since most girls' rooms are plastered with pictures. This photo is simple and worn. It's a picture of a couple, who I assume are her parents, from what looks to be the 70's. It occurs to me that she has never mentioned her mom before, and I wonder if they're close. Her mom is beautiful, just like Logan, but I see more of her in her dad's features; he has the same striking green eyes.

I realize I've been snooping for a little too long, but I'm just trying to get a glimpse into this girl's life. Logan could be back anytime; I have no idea when she left, so I grab my phone and shove it back in my pants' pocket before quickly straightening up her bed. After giving one last glance to her space, I leave her room, hoping it won't be the last time I'm here.

I knock on Marc's door on my way to the elevator, thinking maybe he would want to grab breakfast, but he doesn't answer. He is probably with Logan, wherever she may be.

The walk back to my house isn't too bad. The air is getting colder by the day, so I try to move quickly to warm my body. As I walk by the campus gym, I have an instinct to glance inside, remembering I got to see Logan in there yesterday. I slyly peek into the large window, and sure enough, there she is, inside by the free weights section. Once again, she's the only female in that corner of the gym surrounded by meatheads throwing heavy weights around. She looks completely unfazed by anyone around her and seems fully confident in her movements. A slight smile forms on my lips as I find myself being proud of her for being such a badass and not letting any of these dudes intimidate her. Her hidden confidence intrigues me that much more. I continue on my way, not wanting her to catch me lurking or in awe.


So, she left me in bed to go to the gym. Maybe that's just her morning routine, or perhaps she needed a way to decompress after the last two nights. Either way, I understand, as most of my mornings are spent trying to clear my mind while on the ice. Sometimes it's my only safe haven.

As I reach the front lawn of my house, I see cups scattered all around, a couple of people passed out on the front porch, and one of our beer pong tables knocked over on the grass. I make my way up to my room, stepping over sleeping bodies in my path and trying to avoid the pools of spilled liquor.