I want to thank the readers who have been reading and reviewing my other fanfics! I LOVE YOU GUYS! And I've been more of a reader/reviewer lately, but I got this idea in Earth Science and started writing it. If you guys don't like it, PLEASE tell me, and I won't continue. I only have 2 chapters so far, but if you guys like it, I'll have more. I don't think it's that great, but I hope you enjoy it at least a little :)

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Big Time Rush because if I did, there would be no need for this fanfic :)

It was the third time this week that I felt eyes on me, intently watching every move I made. I looked up from my Minnesota Wild article to scan the pool for any sign of a fixed gaze.

James was chasing Carlos around the pool because said Latino stole the pretty boy's lucky comb when he refused to pretend the roof of the Palmwoods was a diving board to make the world's biggest cannonball into the pool.

Camille had been wearing a bright red dress, her face all done up like the Red Queen's from Alice in Wonderland. Must be a new role, I thought to myself as my eyes moved from Camille to Jo all dressed up as the White Queen. And she must have conned Jo into practicing with her, I thought again, chuckling at Jo's horrified look at Camille's wildly waving arms.

And then my eyes found Logan.

As soon as my gaze met his chocolate one, he quickly looked back down at his medical book, and I could have sworn I saw a tinge of red flood his pale cheeks. Was it Logan's gaze I felt piercing through my magazine to reach my eyes? It was starting to be kind of suspicious. Every time I felt a pair of eyes on me, coincidentally, Logan averted his hazel ones to something that he wanted me to think he had been fascinated by the whole time, and his pale skin gave way to a rosy undertone. I may not have the IQ that Logan does, but I'm not dumb. And Logan was just so damn obvious. He's always been a terrible liar.

But why? I thought to myself as I studied Logan's now nervous and embarrassed aura. He ran one slim hand through his raven hair and his slightly-creamed-coffee gaze zoned in on a pretty uninteresting palm tree.

I couldn't fight the smirk that tugged at my lips. Logan looked so damn adorable when he was flustered. But he was more than adorable. He may as well have been a god, or an angel, or at least a demigod. I'm not so sure that he isn't all of the above, somehow impossibly all rolled into one.

He had delicate, smooth features that any girl found absolutely seductive. He had an adorable lopsided grin, smooth creamy skin, perfectly styled raven hair, and eyes that were the most beautiful shade of brown I had ever seen. He was smart, sweet, and simply amazing.

And don't ever let his smaller stature and seemingly shy nature deceive you. He could throw a fierce punch or explode with anger if anyone hurt his friends. It came out more when I was concerned though, but I just assumed it was because I was the youngest of our rag-tag group of hockey players.

He had almost taken on the role of my older brother – but brother was not the right word. He was overprotective of me like an older brother, and he took care of me like an older brother, but there was nothing brotherly about the lingering touches I gave him, or the longing in my eyes when I looked at him, or the way I casually slung my arm around his shoulders just to feel the electric shock heighten my heart rate and boil my blood.

But Logan would never feel that. Logan saw me as his little brother – nothing more. And I would have to be content with that.

Because even if Logan did like guys – which he most certainly didn't – he seemed like the type that would like pretty brunettes that would protect him so he could be the vulnerable one sometimes. Like James.

But even if he did like guys, he would never date James. Logan and I both knew how much Carlos adored the tall, unnaturally pretty boy. Logan would never do that to Carlos, and neither would I. And James just wasn't my type.

He wasn't the one I'd been in love with since before I even knew what love was.

He wasn't my best friend Logan Mitchell.

Carlos blocked my daydreamy stare across the pool at Logan as he knelt down in front of me. "What's wrong, man? You've been zoning out all week. Wanna talk about it?"

That's why I loved Carlos and considered him a real brother. Because no matter how hyper and goofy he seemed to always be, he always seemed to know when I'd been deep in thought. It's almost as if when he detected that I had been consumed by my thoughts, a switch had been flicked to Carlos's serious big brother mode.

I sighted, shifting my now-glistening gaze from the beautiful milk chocolate eyes across the pool to Carlos's dark chocolate ones. "I'll be okay eventually, man," I said, hoping Carlos couldn't hear the dejectedness in my tone. But of course he could. This was Carlos we were talking about.

"I don't buy that for one minute," he began. He then turned his head to look across the pool, hoping to find the catalyst that set my thoughts in motion. His gaze found Logan, who was staring intently at Carlos and I with a shadow of concern dimming those creamy coffee eyes. Then Carlos turned back to me, and I could almost see the gears in his head turning, putting together the pieces that lie before him.

He knew I was gay. But he didn't know that Logan was the object of my affection. Although I think he just figured it out.

He sighed before smiling sympathetically at me. "You really should tell him, dude," he said, patting my shoulder, his voice dripping with sympathy and understanding. I rolled my eyes at the older Latino in front of me, almost willing me with his eyes to get up and say something to Logan.

"I can't, Carlos," I started, tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

"But what if he feels the same way? Haven't you noticed how protective he is of you, or how much brighter his eyes and smile tend to be when he sees you and talks to you?"

I looked at Carlos in disbelief as tears rolled one by one from my eyes. "There are three things wrong with your theory," I started in a shaky, broken, whispering tone. "One: Logan is straight. Two: Even if he liked guys at all, he'd never see his shaggy blond-haired, pathetic little brother as anything more than just that – a little brother. And three: He doesn't even know that I'm gay."

Tears gave into gravity by the millions, blurring my vision and staining my face. Carlos put his other hand on my other shoulder before pulling me into a hug. "You have to start somewhere, bro," he simply stated before walking away slowly, shooting daggers at Logan, and tirelessly searching for James.

No matter how much the relentless tears obstructed my vision, I could still make out Logan's perfectly defined body rising from his favorite poolside chair and those gymnast legs of his carrying that angel toward me. But he was the last person I wanted to talk to right now, because if I did talk to him, my words would overflow from my heart and spew out of my mouth as one jumbled, rambling, entirely too honest, chaotic, pathetic attempt at words.

So I sprinted toward our room, plowing through the concerned calls of Jo, Camille, Stephanie, Lucy, Guitar Dude, and even the Jennifers. Because they knew that I was Kendall Knight – fearless leader of the four boys on and off the ice. And they knew that Kendall Knight never cried.

But the thought of Logan brought out a side of me that I never knew existed.

Let me know what you think! I'm going to post one more chapter, and then I'll continue if you guys like it :)