I walked into the room and my mouth fell open at the mess. Boxes were desperately stacked to the ceiling. Several boxes overflowed with shirts in every size and color. A wall shelf that looked like it was once organized before he gave up on it was stuffed with packages of little Logan action figures. Carefully not to disturb the fragile balance of dolls, I grabbed a box. Everything was written in Japanese, but I could make out the manufacturer’s point of pride in the figures’ point of articulation. In the corner of the room a life-sized cardboard cutout of Logan smirked at me. There was nothing wrong with the cutout, but the white outline around his body leaned into the uncanny valley and triggered my morning sickness. With a grimace, I quickly turned in search of something else to focus on.

  On the opposite wall hung a Japanese show poster. Logan stood with his shoulders back and his head held high. Airbrushed flames surrounded him. A tall Japanese man loomed large over Logan. He glared at him with menacing eyes and held a title belt overhead. It felt a bit too dramatic. Thoroughly amused, I turned to my left and locked eyes with a teddy bear sitting on a stack of boxes with Japanese labels. The teddy bear had Logan’s signature mop of curly hair. I wanted to cuddle it badly.

  “What’s in here?” I pointed at the boxes.

  “Sweat towels…” Logan whispered.

  “Sweat towels?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded.

  Totally not believing him, I pried open a box. And just like he said, the box was full of towels. Totally confused, I unfolded a towel and stared at Logan’s grinning face. It was very weird to see his face printed on fluffy white fabric. Brows furrowed, I turned to him.

  “Explain?”

  “I don’t think explaining it will make it any clearer,” he chuckled.

  “Try?”

  He sighed, “…In Japan, they sell these branded towels. After a match, the crowd holds out their towels to the wrestlers. We grab them and wipe our sweat off, then hand them back to the fans…”

  My eyes were wide with a mix of confusion and amusement. Logan rubbed at the back of his neck and a deep red brush spread across his cheeks. For a long moment, we stared at each other.

  “…So, are these sweat covered?” I asked.

  “No. Those are unsullied towels.”

  “Cool. Cool.” I said, before tucking the towel back into the box.

  Lips tight, I turned back to him, and we exchanged wary glances before we both burst out laughing. Logan wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, and my sides hurt from hysterical laughter. Eventually, we collected ourselves and, with no further comment on the sweat towels, I scoped out some more of Logan’s merchandise. There were stacks of magazines and a few newspaper clippings. There was even a supermarket advertisement for carrots with him and several other wresters on it. These big muscley guys screaming at Japanese children to eat their vegetables made me laugh. Logan watched me with his bottom lips grinding between his teeth. His concern was misplaced. The weird yet still kinda fangirlish nature of sweat towels aside, all this stuff was pretty cool. I turned to him and crossed my arms across my chest.

  “So… Big star in Japan blah, blah, blah. My question is, do you have any coffee?”

  Smirking, Logan led me out of the merch room and to the kitchen. I flopped down at the island and absorbed the glorious view of Logan’s ass as he grabbed two mugs and poured us coffee from the waiting pot. He slid the steaming mug over to me with a smile. I looked down at the black liquid and frown.

  Creamer… Elle needs creamer…

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “Do you have any creamer? I usually drink my coffee with vanilla creamer.”

  Logan shook his head. “No, I don’t. I usually drink mine black. Sorry.”

  Shoulders slumped, I sighed heavily into my mug. It was ridiculous to be upset over such a small thing like coffee creamer. Logically, I knew that. Emotions combined with hormones made things different. I felt tears fighting to break free. I really didn’t want to cry about fucking coffee creamer, but that’s where I was.

  “Hold on a second!” Logan exclaimed as he darted across the room and started ransacking the pantry. A few moments of frantic shuffling later, Logan emerged with a bag of sugar in one hand, a bottle of imitation vanilla in the other, and a massive grin on his face.

  “I know it’s totally not the same, but I’ve got some milk in the fridge. We can spruce it up with sugar and the vanilla. How’s that sound?”

  I nodded in agreement as I swooned inside. It was such a small thing to care about how I take my coffee, and Logan trying to accommodate me meant a lot. With a grateful smile, I sipped my ‘spruced up’ coffee. Logan raised an eyebrow in question.

  “I like it. Thank you,” I smiled from behind my mug.

  Satisfied, he hid his smile behind his mug as he took another sip. The coffee didn’t taste bad, but it didn’t taste good either. It was drinkable. I polished off my mug for two reasons:

  1) Pregnancy allowed for only a small amount of much needed caffeine and

  2) Logan made an effort for me.

  I couldn’t tell if the unease in my stomach was morning sickness or butterflies. I adjusted my nausea wristbands for good measure.

  Logan

  I rolled my shoulders as I mixed a cocktail. It had only been 2 nights, but sleeping on the couch was uncomfortable. I was very spoiled by my specialty bed. But the muscle aches were worth it to make sure Elle and Blobby were comfortable. It was strange having her in my space. That sort of closeness was something I wasn’t used to. But part of me liked it. Having someone to wake up to and have a morning cup of coffee with was so cozy. Nostrils flared I let out a heavy breath. No matter how cozy it was, I couldn’t get used to it. There were simple lines that reinforced that it was temporary.

  I set two Mario specialty drinks down on the bar in front of two guys playing Super Smash Brothers on the GameCube. They grunted in acknowledgment and again I rolled my shoulders, trying to banish my stiffness. The bar was slow. Disappointing, but typical for the midweek. My co-owners fucked off to the back, leaving me up front on my own. Too bad for them, I was leaving early. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. No texts from Elle, but the store notified me that my order was ready for pickup.

  “Ooooo! Your girlfriend texting you?”

  I glanced up at Zeke standing beside me, grinning like a long-haired Cheshire cat. I rolled my eyes and stuffed my phone back into my pocket.

  “I feel like whatever I do, you assholes, would make fun of me. Single? Hahaha! Logan’s a lonely fucker with only his hand to keep his dick company. Dating somebody? Hahaha! Logan’s so pussy whipped. Or dick whipped. Whatever I do, you guys have something to say.” I crossed my arms and narrowed my gaze at Matt.

  “It’s just so easy to give you shit,” he smiled.

  I clenched my fists. Tension radiated up my body, coming to a point in my very tight jaw. It was times like this that I couldn’t believe I’d traveled the world with these assholes. Hell, I couldn’t believe they were still my friends. Was it Stockholm syndrome? Maybe I was the crazy one? I blinked that thought away and pushed Zeke aside. He laughed, letting me know I didn’t push him hard enough. Going from one asshole friend to another, I headed to the back office and found Nick and Davis. The pair sat shoulder to shoulder intensely, looking at something on Davis’ phone.

  “Hey! Hey! Loverboy!” Davis snorted at me without looking up.

  “What are you two doing?” I asked.

  “Looking through Davis’ matches on Tinder.” Nick explained, as if the answer he gave was obvious.

  I grimaced.

  “Wait a second! You’re giving me shit for my girl when you’re scrolling through matches!”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Davis held up his hands. “The differences between the two of us are massive, but for the sake of time I’ll condense my argument. You’re fucking up your life for some chick you barely know, and who’s kid might not even be yours. You suck at relationships, but somehow keep finding yourself in them. I on the other hand know that I’m shit at relationships and have come to appreciate just the physical. I’m only in it for the sex.”

  Davis’ shitty comments had me seeing fucking red. Rage surged through my veins and I slammed my fist into the door frame. The thud echoed through the small space. Nick and Davis’ eyes bugged out at my sudden display of fury. They’ve seen me grumpy, but never really pissed. I was usually much better at controlling those things, but today was different.

  “Don’t ever talk about Elle like that again. I don’t give a shit that y’all are my best friends. The shit stops here. If I hear another comment like that about her out of your fucking mouth, I’ll bash your face in. Understood?”

  Davis and Nick nodded in unison.

  “Good. I was gonna stay later, but you fucked that up. I’m out of here for the night.” As I walked out of the office, I threw a middle finger over my shoulder.

  It took a moment of me just sitting in my car to collect myself enough to drive. After picking up my store order, I stopped at a rival bar for an order of mozzarella sticks for Elle. I shifted my thoughts away from my friends’ bullshit and thought about how happy I was to see Elle. I had started to consider myself a hermit, overly attached to my own space. But with her, I didn’t feel that way. I liked having her around. I could get used to it.

  No!

  I pushed that right out of my head as pulled into my driveway. Car parked, I grabbed my bags and headed inside. I walked into an empty living room and my heart dropped. Acknowledging the fact I was being ridiculous, I dropped the bags off in the kitchen and searched for Elle. I knocked on the closed bedroom door.

  “Come in…” Elle said quietly.

  I opened the door, surprised at the pitch-black room. I flicked the light switch on and looked at Elle laying fully clothed, face down, in the middle of my bed.

  “Hey… Everything alright?” I stood back in the doorway.

  “…Not really…” she sniffled as she sat up.

  Elle’s face was puffy and damp with tears. My stomach dropped at the disheveled sight of her. Against my better judgement, I sat on the edge of the bed.

  “What’s going on? Are you and Blobby okay?”

  “Blobby’s fine.” She ran her hands down her face, but it didn’t do much to help. Tears kept streaming down her cheeks. “I took a day to get my head together before dealing with my insurance claim and stuff. But when I got on the portal today to check my policy, it was inactive. I called, and they canceled my policy two months ago because I forgot to pay. The email went into my junk folder. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

  Her shoulders slumped forward as her sobs filled my ears. Crossing my self-created boundary, I climbed onto the bed and pulled Elle into my arms. Thankfully, she didn’t push me away. She buried her face in my chest. Carefully, I rubbed a hand up and down her back. Even with the fabric of her shirt between us, touching her revved up my heart.

  “…Elle, I have no problem with you staying here for as long as you need.” I blurted out.

  Elle’s head shot up. Her sad, damp face was twisted with confusion, and it was hard not to laugh at the cuteness of it.

  “What?! Logan, I can’t do that!” She protested.

  “Why not?” I asked, happy that her anger at me displaced her tears.

  “Because I already feel bad enough intruding in your space.”

  “You shouldn’t feel bad. I already told you to have a happy baby Momma needs to be happy. You are staying here, and I have no issues with that. I know we aren’t together, but you are the mother of my child and I do consider you a friend. I like having you here. I want you here,” My verbal vomit spilled out.

  Elle blinked up at me, making me very conscious of my burning ears. Silently, I prayed my skin hadn’t betrayed me with a blush.

  “I don’t want to impose…” she mumbled.

  “I want you here.” I repeated. “I really do.” After giving her a quick squeeze, I climbed off the bed.

  I extended a hand to her. “You can stay here as long as you want. You have my word. Now come on, let’s have dinner.”

  Elle yanked her shirt collar up over her head and wiped her face. Tears dried, she scooted across the bed and slid her hand into mine. Her skin was so soft and warm. I swallowed hard and rushed us out of the bedroom before I had the chance to do anything I would regret.

  Not the time, Logan. Not the time.

  Elle sat at the kitchen island and my chest ached as her hand slid out of mine. I ran my hands down my jeans and slid the container of mozzarella sticks towards Elle. She popped open the box and cooed in appreciation. I chuckled to myself as I turned to preheat the oven. When I turned back around, Elle was stuffing a fried cheese stick into her mouth.

  “I hope fish and veggies are okay for dinner?” I leaned back against the counter, trying not to laugh at her.

  Elle nodded, “…These are really good, but the sauce isn’t as good as before.”

  Fuck’s sakes.

  I snorted. That’s what I get for being mad at my friends. I would not be telling Nick and Zeke that their homemade marinara sauce was better than our competitors. No fucking way. The oven beeped, and I grabbed two of my prepared meals from the fridge. I placed the containers on a baking sheet and tossed it in. Timer set, I turned back to Elle who was polishing off the last of her mozzarella sticks.

  “So, I got you some things,” I announced as I ripped open the bag from my store order.

  Elle looked at me with furrowed brows and curious eyes. I couldn’t help the smirk on my face as I pulled out a two pack of bonnets.

  “I got you two bonnets. In case you ever wanted to switch things up or something.”

  Elle’s eyes instantly switched from narrowly skeptical to wide with disbelief.

  “But wait, there’s more!” I flashed my pearly whites at the slack jawed pregnant woman staring at me.

  I set up an assortment of bottles and tubes on the island before launching into my demonstration.

  “So, over here we have moisture retention shampoo, and a sulfate-free, detangling shampoo. These are conditioners with coconut oil and shea butter. This leave-in is full of plant-based keratin. There’s detangler lotion and cream with aloe vera which works to seal the hair’s cuticle and prevent breakage.” I grabbed the set of wide toothed combs out of the bag and placed them besides the hair products. “I have one for myself somewhere, but these are just for you. Combs with different sized teeth for detangling. We both have curly hair, but I didn’t know how much goes into yours. I hope this goes some way in making your stay here more comfortable.”

  Elle blinked at me. Her silence erased my smirk. Nervousness gripped my chest, and my thoughts were overrun with how I fucked things up.

  “…How? How did you even know to buy this stuff?” she asked.

  “I did some research. And I asked a ton of questions at the hair store. You should have seen the side eye the older Black woman at the register gave me.”

  Elle giggled. “You are something else, Logan. Thank you.”

  “No problem.”

  Her eyes were soft with appreciation, and the smile on Elle’s face was contagious. Like two goofs, we grinned at each other. A warm, gooey feeling had replaced the nerves in my stomach. Elle’s face radiated warmth. Her smile invited me in, and I desperately wanted to be a part of her world. The timer beeped, returning us to the kitchen and out of whatever daydreams we had in our respective heads.

  “Totally feel free to use this stuff on your curls too. I’m gonna take these things to the bedroom.” Elle said as she stood up and started collecting bottles.

  “I’ll get dinner around.” I pulled on an oven mitt.

  I plated the salmon and veggies. Just as I placed the plates on the island, Elle came back into the kitchen.

  “Could you grab us some waters?” I asked.

  “Sure.” She opened the fridge.

  She shrieked and my shoulders trembled with laughter.

  “You got my favorite creamer! THANK YOU!” Elle squealed as she ran across the room with all the energy and bravado of a cartoon character and launched herself at me.

  I wrapped her in my arms and gave her a quick squeeze. I was amused as hell that French vanilla creamer elicited much more of a response than the laborious results of my hair research. The best thing about Elle was that she kept me guessing. The moment she realized what she’s done Elle pulled out of my arms quickly. Head ducked, she muttered another thank you before we both sat on stools side-by-side. Quietly, we picked up our forks and started to eat. After a few bites, I stole a glance at Elle. She stared at her food with a deep frown on her face.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “…I’m sorry, but this food has absolutely no flavor.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “Really. Do you always eat this stuff right out of the package like this?”

  “Yeah. I’ve never really had a problem with it before. I’ve got some salt, pepper, garlic powder and such in the cabinet.” I pointed over my shoulder to the pantry.

  Elle went in search of seasoning, and I ate another bite of fish. A few moments later, she returned, sporting the same frown.

  “Those are not seasonings.” She huffed as she sat down.

  I shrugged again, not seeing the problem. Elle shook a healthy amount of garlic powder onto her plate. I raised an eyebrow as she violently stabbed her vegetables.

  “You bake for fun! How can you not have actual seasoning?” Elle complained in between forced bites of food.

  “Baking and cooking are two different worlds. Besides, that sort of thing doesn’t really fit into my diet. I’m sorry Elle.”

  Her shoulder slumped forward as she sighed. “I’m sorry, Logan. You opened your home to me. I have no right to complain.”

  “I’m a big boy. I can take complaints.”

  I finished my food and grabbed her half-eaten plate. I dumped her food into the trash and placed the dishes into the dishwasher. Elle followed me into the living room. She walked past me as I sat on the couch, expecting her to do the same.