“Are you okay?” Logan asked, looking into my eyes. It was early morning, and we were sitting on the beach, watching as the fog and small whitecaps rolled in faithfully from the sea.

“Yeah. It’s just, you know,” I said, sweeping a hand around the deserted beach. “The fog puts me in a bad mood.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell that he was still looking at me, and it made me uncomfortable.

“You know, I don’t really know that much about you,” he said, hesitantly.

I sighed.

“You don’t want to know about me.”

“You won’t let me know about you.”

I looked at him shrewdly. “I love coffee, but I can never finish a whole cup. I read magazines from the back. I check my horoscope at night instead of in the morning, just to see if it was right. I like cookies. I hate liars. I tend to total cars. Is that all?”

I could tell that I was hurting him, but I couldn’t stop
myself.

“That’s not what I mean.” He tried to take my hand, but I pulled away. His eyes narrowed.

I let him walk away.