38. Courage
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
courage
ABI
THE BLACK BEAR PUB
PRESENT DAY
Melissa is sipping a glass of white wine, tapping away at her phone, and doing her best to look nonchalant while she sits at the bar. Every so often she glances over at us, quickly typing something out before going back to scrolling.
Probably texting Carly.
They say time heals all wounds, but I’ve never really found that to be true. The tampons covered in fake blood and shoved into my locker, their merciless mockery of my dad’s addiction, or the giggling and whispering about me when we’d get changed for gym class… I felt unsafe, unwanted, and powerless. Even though I’ve grown up, those feelings haven’t gone away.
They just got buried.
“Shortcake!” Logan calls. “You’re up!”
I like to take my first shot at a very particular angle, ever since I sunk three right off the break one time; I’m convinced it’s good luck.
I can feel eyes on me as I breathe, readying the shot, and I glance over to find Melissa strolling right for us with her phone in hand. It’s probably nothing, she’s just heading to the bathroom. All I have to do is focus on the shot, and?—
“Hey, Abi.”
My guard flies up, and I’m that pathetic 15-year-old again.
“Uh– h– hey.” I clear my throat and straighten up. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, just out for a glass of wine. I didn’t know you were back in town!”
Her smile is sweet, but there’s something about it that puts me off… maybe the years of untreated trauma?
“Yeah. Just for the reunion.”
“That’s great!” Her eyes aren’t even on me as she says it, tapping away on her phone for a few seconds before slipping it into her purse and flashing me a dazzling smile. “Sorry, I’ve still got so much work stuff, even in my free time. Social media is fucking insane sometimes. I feel like I’m drowning in messages.”
She rolls her eyes before letting out a distressingly familiar laugh.
“But you get it, right? Anyway, what have you been up to?”
I doubt Melissa has changed much since high school, still a second-string mean girl who’s nice to your face, just so she can report back to her friends with gossip.
“I’m teaching Sociology.”
“That’s cool.” She’s pulled her phone out again. “Like, high school kids, or something?”
“Uh, no. Like at a university. In Washington State.”
“Oh! Cool!” It looks like that got her attention, and she leans in a little with a lowered voice. “Listen, can we talk for a second?”
I’m so uncomfortable that the beer in my stomach is starting to creep its way back up, but I nod anyway, and the two of us move away from the pool table.
“All that stuff that happened in high school… it’s, like— you know, we were just being stupid. It was nothing personal.”
I arch a brow, but say nothing as Melissa tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. What the hell is she doing? Does she actually feel guilty, or is this a trick?
Best to just let her talk.
“It’s just water under the bridge, right?”
I’m not sure when I was consulted on this whole water under the bridge thing, but I think I must have nodded because she keeps going.
“I mean… we were just kids, right?” She laughs. “It didn’t mean anything. I saw Carly and Brendan extended the invitation to the reunion as an olive branch to you, so I thought I’d…”
She shrugs, clearly unsure how an apology is supposed to work.
It’s all bullshit. I don’t trust Melissa now, and I never have. The few times she was nice to me, it ended up just being to fuel some joke at my expense.
I remember how often I came home from school in tears, being afraid to go to a teacher or the principal because it would inevitably make things worse. I’d fake stomach aches so that I could have one day of relief knowing I wouldn’t have to face gym class with Carly and Melissa.
I could tell her that her dismissal of the pain she caused makes me want to punch her square in the face. Even better, I could take the swing right now.
But instead, I smile through it.
“Well, it was great to see you, but I think I have to get back to the game.”
Like you’re supposed to.
“Yeah, you too!” Melissa replies, not put off at all by the abrupt end to the conversation. “I’ll see you at the reunion, then?”
“Yeah. See you there.”
She’s probably just glad she doesn’t have to twist even further around herself, figuring out how not to ever say ‘I’m sorry’ in her grand apology.
“Pretty ring, by the way.” She motions to the stone, and I find myself glancing down at it, still not quite used to it being there. “Super vintage.”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”
She gives a final wave to the group, and blows me a kiss before sauntering back to the bar.
“What was that about?” Kat asks.
“She, uh, wanted to put the past behind us. I mean, I think that’s what she wanted. There was a lot of bullshit to shovel through.”
Kat’s eyes narrow as she stares the woman down.
“Yeah, I’ll bet she did. Probably just gathering intel.”
“You make it sound like she’s a fucking spy,” Marcus chuckles. “What intel would she need on someone she knew in highschool? Is she gonna put a sociology professor in her gossip column?”
“Well, those two are sneaky!” Kat retorts. “They always were. You just don’t get it, you never had to deal with any of the mean girls.”
I’m not naive. I always knew that if I got any closure, it wouldn’t feel the way it does in the movies. But to have everything just brushed aside in a minute? My entire teenage years felt like a study in invisibility, where any time I stood out I was punished for it, and now I’m basically in the same spot.
I want to take this pool cue and… I don’t know, hit something with it? But that’s not what an adult would do. Everyone knows these problems barely matter, after all. It was just highschool.
Water under the bridge.
“Whatever, let’s play.”
Logan strides toward me, his arm winding around my waist as he pulls me into him.
“You sure you’re good?”
The second I look into his eyes, all the newly wound up tension begins to unwind.
“Totally. I just don’t want to think about this high school shit anymore. I’m over it.”
He smiles, rubbing his nose against mine.
“I know what you could think about instead.”
“What?”
“Me. Bending you over this table.”
A shiver rushes down my spine, and I bite my lip to keep from making an obvious noise. Melissa doesn’t matter, Carly doesn’t matter, Brendan doesn’t matter, the scholarship doesn’t matter, the lies don’t matter…
“Are you thinking about it?” He purrs. “About how good my?—”
“Hey, it’s still Abi’s shot!” Kat barks. “You two can canoodle on your own time!”
Logan crosses his arms.
“I don’t know what part of the gutter your mind is in, Kat, but we were just discussing important fiancé things.”
“Really? Because it looked like you guys were about to start sucking face.”
He gives a little shrug, a devilish glint lingering in his eye.
I don’t know if it’s him specifically, or if it’s just finally having a second person who’s in my corner now that we’re back here, but I’m suddenly flooded with confidence.
I face the table again, line up my shot, and exhale as I connect with the cue ball. The rack explodes, sending different colors every which way. The red solid sails toward the corner pocket, dropping in with a dull thunk and Logan raises his hands in the air.
“Fuck yeah!” He grabs me by the waist, pressing his lips to my ear. “If you’re a very good girl and win this game, I brought that little toy I picked up earlier.”
My mind shoots back a couple days, just before we hit Ontario. We found a burger joint right across the parking lot from an adult store, and while I went to scope out a table, Logan sauntered into the shop. He never told me what he bought, he just said it was a surprise, but I do remember him coming out with a swagger that made it look like he owned the place.
Marcus curses, leaning over as he surveys the table.
“She plays pool all the time back in Emerald Bay,” Logan says, taking the cue from me. “She’s turned into a regular shark.”
“I am not a shark!” I cackle. “Pool just helps me think.”
He leans over, clearly trying to shoot for getting the purple ball into the center pocket, but even before the cue connects, I can tell it’s a miss. The ball speeds forward, wide of his target, and bounces off of the bumper before rolling to a stop right in the middle of the table.
“You should have angled it about half an inch to the left,” I giggle, sipping my drink.
It’s actually kind of impressive to miss every single ball this early in the game, even by accident.
“Well, get ready to have your ass handed to you, King,” Marcus takes aim, sinking his target with ease. “Because I get a hell of a lot of practice these days.”
“Yeah, when you should be working,” Kat snickers into her beer.
Marcus just rolls his eyes and hands her the cue.
“Your turn, gorgeous.”
Kat has, apparently, taken lessons from her husband over the years because she doesn’t hesitate, leaning over and shooting in one fluid motion, ricocheting a green striped ball into one of the middle pockets.
Logan whistles.
“Damn, you got some tight competition, King... Maybe it wasn’t the best day to bring an anchor as your partner.”
I stick my tongue out at him.
“Well, if you’d paid attention in those lessons I gave you, we’d probably be dominating this table right now.”
Logan’s lips brush right up against my ear again.
“There’s only one thing I care about dominating on this table.”
I can feel my stomach flip, but luckily the tension between Logan and I is broken by the game’s, as Marcus takes another shot. The four of us watch with bated breath as the cue ball slowly inches toward a stripe that’s sticking to the table by a thread.
It feels like an obnoxious metaphor for my life.
“Come on,” Marcus groans. “Just a tap, that’s all I need.”
“That’s what she said,” I murmur.
Marcus’s cue slips, bumping another ball as he starts to laugh.
“That was a dirty trick, King.”
“She’s a dirty?—”
“Logan!” I hiss.
“Nope, inappropriate. Nevermind.”
The last two days have been a ritual of sinking into the familiarity of home, realizing how much I miss it, and then slowly solidifying the real reason why I never came back. One of the most important people in my life left me with nothing but bad memories of this place. I’ve spent the last three years making excuses as to why I couldn’t return home, but really I just couldn’t bear to see the remnants of the life I had, and I let them taint all of the good things as well.
Watching Logan joke and laugh with my childhood friends like he’s known them for years almost brings a tear to my eye. My mom once told me that the person you choose to spend the rest of your life with should be a reflection of the qualities you’re trying to nurture in yourself.
That way, you can grow together.
“Whose turn is it?” Marcus laughs.
“I can’t even remember anymore, dude.” Logan holds out the cue to me. “You wanna take a crack at it, Shortcake?”
I smile, covering his hand with mine and getting up on my tiptoes for a kiss.
It turns out Logan and I have done a lot of growing together.
Hours later and the games have devolved into a 1v1, me versus Logan, while Kat and Marcus clean up the empty bar, counting the cash and wiping things down for the evening.
I’m perfectly tipsy, tucked right into that blissful little place where everything is funny, but nothing makes me cry. At least not yet. The alcohol’s also made me bolder, and right this moment Logan’s looking so fucking cute I can barely help myself, bent over a pool table with a strand of sandy hair tumbling down in front of one eye.
“Remind me what’s on the line for this game?” He asks, looking up from his shot for what has to be the 6th time in a minute.
I grin, my drunken brain hurtling through a dozen terrible jokes, and a hundred even more terrible ideas as I sidle up next to him.
“How about… you get to do whatever you want to me when we’re done.”
He licks his lips, nodding his head before taking the shot, and effortlessly sinking his second to last stripe.
“I have a couple of ideas,” he purrs.
“Color me curious, Doctor.”
“Hey, uh, lovebirds?” Kat calls, swinging her keys around her finger. “You wanna head out with us, or you good locking up?”
“We can lock up!” Logan chirps.
Kat chuckles, slinging her purse over her shoulder as her eyes fall on me. Subtlety has never really been one of Logan’s strong suits, but luckily the others are just as deep into their cups as we are.
“You still remember the alarm code?”
“One three… one four?”
“Abi!” Logan cackles. “You’re not supposed to say it out loud!”
“Why?” Marcus asks, grinning from ear to ear. “You planning to rob us, Logan?”
“Yeah, exactly.” Logan nods. “Being a professor is only my day job. By night, I’m a famous cat burglar— and I’m not one of those wannabes, either. I dress up like a real cat.”
“Oh yeah, what’s your criminal-name then if you’re so famous?”
“Cat… Man. I’m Cat Man!”
I snort so hard I scratch, completely missing the cue ball, and Logan thrusts his hands in the air.
“Yeah! Eat it, King!”
“You fucker!”
I rush around the table, tickling his ribs until he collapses. He grabs my hands, pulling me close, and the butterflies in my stomach stir back to life as his eyes bore into mine. While I’m all hazy and fuzzy around the edges, Logan feels like pure fire. It’s those damn eyes; that honey-brown looking particularly stormy in this light.
“Abi, I’m leaving you the keys!” Kat calls, setting them on the bar. “Feel free to have another drink, just don’t clean us out, and don’t burn anything down!”
“You got it!” Logan calls back, licking his lips while refusing to take his eyes off me.
I give Kat a wave as the two of them walk out the door, letting it slam behind them. Logan and I stare at each other in silence for a moment before he turns, striding to the entrance.
“Can’t have any interruptions,” he murmurs, flipping the lock. “How do you control the lights in this place?”
I lean up against the pool table, grinning at him.
“Behind the bar. What do you have in mind?”
Logan doesn’t say a word, grinning as he flicks the switch and everything dims, leaving only a few ambient lights remaining. He walks toward me, reaching into his pocket before revealing his hand, concealing something closed in a fist.
I tilt my head, curiosity gnawing at me.
“What’s that?”
“Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”
I let my eyes slide shut and turn my palm upward, feeling Logan place something down into it. I rub my thumb across the object: small, almost tear-drop shaped, it’s soft, squishy, and probably made of silicone.
My lips curl into a smile as I feel Logan behind me, pressing his body into mine.
“Open them.”
Arousal licks at my skin, sending tingles shooting through every nerve ending as I look down at the small turquoise butt plug sitting in the palm of my hand.
We stand in silence for a moment, the two of us reveling in the thickening tension before he finally wraps his arms around me, his voice low and full of longing as I feel his words prickle up the back of my neck.
“I wanna play a new game.”