Free And It All Comes Down To You by Kyra Lennon Page A

couldn’t quite reach.
    “Here’s the thing.” I sighed. “I don’t know the answer to that question. Not really. Yes, I like him, of course I do. But I can’t say anything more than that because I’ve barely spent any time with him. Ever.”
    “So? What about those people who meet online? They fall in love through the powers of Facebook messenger or Skype. Are you saying their feelings aren’t real?”
    I shook my head. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I’m not a person who can confess love for someone without spending a significant amount of time with them. It wouldn’t feel real.”
    “How do you feel when you have been with him?”
    Warmth swept through my body as I considered Lydia’s words. I never had doubts about the answer to this question, only hesitation about confessing.
    “I feel… amazing. Happier. Not in an ‘ I need a guy to make me complete’ kind of way. It’s more that everything that’s already good about my life is enhanced. Everything seems brighter, and anything bad that’s happening doesn’t matter as much anymore.” I shook my head again, shrugging off the idiotic girly trance I’d been slipping into. “But I don’t know if that’s enough, and I really don’t know if he feels even slightly the same way about me.” Of if I fully understand how I feel.
    Lydia snorted out a laugh. “You’re the romantic! You know the answer and you know how you feel.”

The Meeting Stage aka Over My Head
    Breathe, Marnie .
    I stood outside my house, checking my bag one more time to make sure I’d remembered everything I needed for the road trip and festival fun ahead. Mostly my make-up¸ which took up more space than was entirely necessary.
    Logan is going to think I’m ridiculous.
    Ah well, it wasn’t like he was going to rummage through my things. I just needed to not let him see that I was carrying the equivalent of a Boots cosmetics counter in my bag. A girl can never be too prepared, right?
    Okay, maybe she can, but a lame and possibly deluded part of me thought that if I looked decent, with good make-up, and my long, dark hair straightened, maybe…
    Maybe nothing. Stop those thoughts right now.
    Easier said than done. Dammit, I needed this to go well. I needed to calm down, be myself, and figure this out.
    I shuffled my feet, trying to shift some of the adrenaline pumping through my veins while I waited. I didn’t even know what kind of car I was looking out for. Every time another one turned into my street, my heart raced and I tried to look casual, as if I was one of those cool girls who can take things like this in her stride.
    I used to be that girl. I’d lost her somewhere around the age of eighteen. I guess heartbreak can do that to a person. The level of caution when entering, or considering entering, something new gets higher with each terrible experience. Being carefree wasn’t an option anymore. I owed it to myself to guard my already dented heart.
    A blue Renault Clio turned into my street, and this time, my heart rate increase was justified as I spotted Logan in the driver’s seat. His thick blond hair was a little scruffy, probably because he’d just stumbled out of bed and into the car, and the sight of him all tousled caused my breath to catch in my throat.
    Seriously, breathe.
    Inhaling and exhaling very slowly to blow out the last of my nerves, I gave myself a mini pep talk about how I shouldn’t hang too many – or any – hopes on this road trip then smiled as I walked around the side of the car and opened the passenger door.
    The moment I settled myself in the passenger seat my nerves vanished. Honestly, I was sure ninety percent of my anxiousness came from the belief that Logan wouldn’t show up and I’d be left on the street corner, waiting, like the world’s unluckiest hooker.
    But he did show up.
    “Morning,” I said, brightly. “First stop coffee?”
    Logan chuckled. “Maybe not just yet. But soon.”
    Our first stop wasn’t for