You were enamored with Logan Howlett, the Wolverine. He was everything you could ever dream for in a man. Even the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time, you knew. There was nobody else for you.

You were teammates, members of the X-Men. Charles had found you through Cerebro and brought you to the team 2 years ago. And within those 2 years, you had been bold and brave, making your attraction to Logan known while staying within the limits of camaraderie. Your bubbly personality often clashed with Logan's, but you didn't care. You found him too charming.

You were friends.

You showered him with surprise gifts, overly sweet but genuine compliments, and gentle touches like a hand on the back or a pat on the shoulder. Sometimes you even hugged him after intense battles.

You never overstepped his boundaries though, at least, you hoped you hadn't. You still kept your distance whenever he asked for it, which wasn't a lot. Logan usually just hoped you would catch the hint silently and leave him alone whenever he kept your interactions curt and brief.

Until today.

You had gotten on his last nerve. You surprised him with a box of expensive liquor and a new wristwatch. It wasn't even a special occasion, just an anniversary for the day you two had met, the day you had joined the X-Men.

Logan didn't like the idea of you spending so much money on him. It was even worse when you had looked at him so tenderly, telling him you loved him and that there was nobody else on this planet for you.

Logan glared at you at your confession, his words bitter. "How many times do I have to tell you I'm not interested?" He threw the gifts onto the floor, the liquor bottle shattering. "You think I'm your man or something? Because I'm not. I wouldn't ever date you. Ever. So get it through your thick skull that you're not my type."