In His Eyes - Chapter 2

I sit outside on a cold bench for at least 5 minutes going over in my head wondering why I did what I did and what the consequences will be. Part of me is terrified, my mum has never properly hit me before and I doubt she ever will, but she has this mad way of playing on someone’s emotions. Sometimes she makes me so mad I could hit her, which scares me and she knows it, she plays me and makes me ashamed of myself, I know when she’s doing it but I fall for it every time, she should play for the English cricket team, cause she sure knows how to play games, and they need help. By the 6th minute I’m going over in my head things I can say to get out of it, sure she will know it was the right thing to do and no doubt she will secretly praise me, but she doesn’t tolerate violence. As I’m thinking of ways to make myself out to be the hero someone sits next to me, I try hard to ignore him but he speaks directly to me “so what’s your name mate?” Not one to be rude I have to answer
“Jim, what’s yours?”
“Logan. how old are you?” I look up at him and recognise him as the guy from the swimming pool, the guy that looked at me just before I punched the idiot into the pool, he smiles at me and says “you recognise me? well how old are you?”
“I’m 17, why do you want to know?” he ignores my question
“ah right, you’re the same age as him”
“William” he says looking at me probably expecting me to know who he’s talking about, I don’t even have to ask though “the guy you punched, he’s my cousin” registering what he says instantly I jump up off the bench and prepare for a fight, but Logan just leans back smiling at me saying “relax, I hate the bastard, I just wanted to thank the guy who can do what I can’t” this seems like an odd thing to say, Logan is taller than me and he is well built, he certainly looks like he has powerful arms and once again he must be able to read the confusion on my face “fighting with him would cause more trouble than he is worth” I relax and sit back down a bit further from him than I was before “so why did you hit him?” I look to the floor almost to ashamed to speak “he grabbed my ass earlier, and laughed in my face” once again I jump up but this time in surprise, he just grabbed my arse and I have no idea why, I look at him clearly confused but he just smiles “relax mate, I’m just toying with you, I’m not the fighting type” I look at him, he looks like the fighting type to me. Not wanting to stereotype but he looks like he works out and he is dressed in dark blue tracking bottoms with a matching zip up nylon jacket and a white t-shirt underneath and expensive looking trainers, 3 gold sovereign rings adorn his fingers. Logan notices me looking at the rings and pulls them off his fingers putting them in his pocket saying “OK, I dress like I do, but I’m a lover not a fighter, anyway I wouldn’t want to have a fight with you, I’ve seen what you can do, his nose was still bleeding the last time I saw him” once again I look to the floor in shame. I decide to sit down again, but further from him than before with my hands at my sides protecting my thighs and more importantly arse, I say under my breath hoping Logan hears “he had it coming” he just laughs to himself
“too true he did, glad I saw it happen” I didn’t know how to reply to this, but he seemed to be expecting one. After a few minutes of silence Logan gets up looking at his cheap watch “look, I have to go work now, your welcome to come and chat for a while, it isn’t usually a busy place and you could help me” not really considering the question I answer
“no thanks, I’m waiting for my… ride home” seeming disappointed he says
“OK then, I was just offering cause I remember how boring these summer holidays can be” he is right, its better than being bored at home getting in my mums way “yeah I suppose I could” I follow him to work wondering what it is he does.

After a 20 minute walk we turn into a small street filled with run down shops on either side some with fruit and veg stalls outside and others with clothes or books in the window. As we are walking past a small shabby bookshop Logan disappears from my side, I turn around to see where he went, he stands inside the door frame of the book shop holding the door open looking at me with a big smile across his face and his eyes gleaming towards me. I notice that he is very beautiful, his shortish dark brown shaggy hair tucked roughly behind his ears with some hanging freely in front of his deep blue eyes, at that point I feel myself captured by him never to be free again, but not really wanting to be free. As I stand their captivated by his beauty he says laughing “I work here, you coming in?” snapping out of his spell I nod and walk in obediently.
The book shop is small and cramped, the shelves are stacked heavily seemingly as cramped as the shop itself. As I read the books on the bottom shelf I see the spines of new books, reading titles I had never heard of, as I look at the higher shelves the books seem to get older, eventually I read the titles of books I have actually heard of but never read: Of Mice and Men and To Kill a Mocking Bird to name a few. As I look even higher books my mum has been nagging at me to read such as Great Expectations appear, these books are older than most and have gathered quite a bit of dust. As I examine the highest book shelves I hear Logan talking to someone but not really taking much notice until I hear my name “Jim, I will be back in a minute, just gotta change into my work clothes” I nod as I dumbly scan the shelves one was labelled religious, and as I expected several copies of the bible all lined up neatly. I continue reading the labels on the shelves, the ones labelled Geography, History, Science fiction are all clumped together and I could only count 2 shelves categorised under each, but these shelves are packed with many different books some big and some small, some thick and others thin. As I scan the shelf labels I lock onto a new looking label that has “occult” written in wavy beautiful handwriting on it, I notice there are a lot of books crammed on the shelf but none are the same and no 2 were by the same author, it seemed to be a popular shelf with the lack of dust on the wood.
After a while starring at the shelve I hear Logan come back in, he is wearing a light blue V-neck t-shirt, its arm sleeves cropped just above his elbow, it showed the extent of his muscle mass, its obvious he has a solid build, but not one of someone who works out constantly. He looks like he naturally has this body, and is very comfortable with it.
We spend hours just talking about me mostly, I help him stack new books taking down older ones every so often, occasionally a customer would come in and I would watch from a nearby stool half reading a book I picked off the occult section. It occurs to me that he is a very kind and smart person, every costumer that comes in greets him with a smile, and he answers all their questions with a certainty that shows he knows his limits and isn’t so arrogant to ask for help when he needs it, which did happen to my surprise once.
It gets a little busy and some of the costumers ask me to help them locate a book mistaking me for a shop assistant, sometimes I would try to help them and Logan would watch smiling as I clambered around trying to figure the system and failing mostly. Eventually it gets quieter and Logan returns to stacking the books, I decide we have spoke enough about me so try to question him “how ol…” he interrupts me, when he realises what he did he tries to look innocent and continues with his question “why is your name Jim?” I think to myself for a minute and decide to answer him “I’m named after Jim Morrison, my mum loves The Doors and was listening to L.A woman when I was being conceived so she thought it a good name” he simply answers with a slightly uninterested “who?” I’m shocked, I collect my thoughts preparing for a rant on the late great Jim Morrison and The Doors but realise he isn’t really into my kind of music so I respond with a severely understated “they are this great band”
“oh right, I don’t really listen to music” I’m not really shocked by this, he doesn’t seem like the kind to listen to music
“what do you do in your spare time or for fun?”
“I used to write poetry and read books” this demands more questioning
“what do you mean you used to? don’t you do it any more?” he’s standing on a small stool reaching high into the top shelf trying to locate a book, he pauses for a moment to think “no, I only wrote and read when I was happy, and I haven’t really been happy for 5 years” he seems to be full of surprises, I feel ashamed for being so stereotypical around him "what do you mean?
“I’d rather not say. its getting late now, do you want to ring your mum to get a ride home?” I can tell when I have asked to much and I can take dismissal hints. I make my way to the phone in the back following Logan’s directions and after asking my mum to come pick me up from the shop(and giving her directions from what I can remember of my journey to the shop) I return to Logan who is walking around the shop making the books look neat, I sit on my stool and watch him, he occasionally looks at me over his shoulder. After half an hour of silence I hear a car pull up in front of the shop and beep its horn, I look to Logan and say “well that’s my mum, I might see you around sometime yeah?”
“oh… okay, well I’m sorry for asking personal questions… bye”

In His Eyes - Chapter 2


Coventry, United Kingdom

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Read chapter 3 here



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