Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
PIPER
I ’m in bed reading a lighthearted romantic comedy before bedtime. I’ve always loved reading, stealing a few minutes – or hours – to disappear into another world. Romantic comedies have been my go-to palate cleansers between more intense books, like thrillers or literary works.
Lately, though, I can’t focus on them. Whenever I read about people falling in love and overcoming obstacles, I realize I’m relating it to my life. It’s like a mind virus. I read about two people dramatically kissing in the rain, and then, suddenly, it’s like me and Logan are doing just that.
Rain drenches our bodies. His clothes are sticking to his sculpted chest, the wet material outlining his athletic build. His lips are on mine, and heck, it’s hard. If this was just my imagination, I could deal with it.
But I’ve tasted his lips. I remember how his hands felt on my body, the way he greedily sank his touch into my curves like I was the sexiest woman alive. I wouldn’t say I have low self-esteem, but it’s not soaring either.
That day, he made it fly. He made me feel so sensitive to his touch. My sex tingled, my thighs felt ultra-sensitive, and my nipples rubbed against my bra like every inch of me was suddenly electrified.
Sighing, I toss the book onto the bed. Elliot’s not home, and Ruby isn’t responding to my texts. About thirty minutes ago, Logan texted me, but I’ve been purposefully ignoring it. That’s another reason I haven’t been able to focus on my reading.
I finally pick up my phone.
Logan: Have you noticed Elliot hanging around with anybody you don’t recognize recently?
At least this isn’t flirty. Am I disappointed?
No, no. I’m not. That’s my story. I can have thoughts that betray me. That’s one thing, but it doesn’t mean I have to let them out, feed them, or let them consume me.
Just like his touch consumed me, just like his lips?—
Piper: No, why?
Logan: We had a strange meeting earlier. Elliot seemed on edge. Piper, I want you to call me if you notice anything strange.
Piper: Strange, how? What are you talking about?
Logan: This guy earlier seemed shady. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, but I’ll keep my phone on loud, day or night. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, call me. I’ll be right there.
Piper: This sounds like I should be scared.
Logan: You don’t need to be afraid of anything. Your building has security, and, anyway, I’d be there in an instant if I thought anything was wrong.
Piper: I don’t even know what we’re talking about, Logan.
Logan: Like I said, the guy was shady. I can’t give you more information until I know more.
Piper: Elliot came home with a bloody nose recently. Could that have anything to do with it?
Logan: Yes, it might. I don’t want to scare you, Piper. Trust me, that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.
I could tell him he’s been scaring me long before these mysterious texts. Long before these confusing messages, he scared me because of what he made me feel. He scared me when he pressed his lips against mine, when our bodies crushed closely together, and a myriad of ignored aching sensations burst out of me.
Even now, just thinking about it, it happens. He makes me so tingly, so aware of my sexuality. He makes me think of what it’d be like to strip for him, his intense eyes gazing at me, nothing else on his mind.
Just me. Just us.
Piper: What did this guy want?
Logan: He was essentially trying to shake me down, but there’s no way I’d let that happen. This company means too much to too many people. I just hope Elliot isn’t in trouble.
Piper: I’ll keep an eye on him. He’s looked out for me for so long. It’s only fair that I return the favor.
Here’s yet another reminder why we can’t give into these desires—desires he might not even be experiencing. I wonder if this constant aching tension will fade into the background when enough time has passed. Maybe I’ll be at work one morning and realize I don’t want him anymore. I’m not constantly fighting the desire to fantasize about him.
Logan: Are you still enjoying your work, Piper?
Piper: Is that how this works, Mr. Boss? You drop a bombshell about shady people and then change the subject?
Logan: You just said it: I’m the boss. That means I get to do what I want.
Sizzling tension dances over me. Does he know what he’s doing? Is he doing it on purpose?
Piper: I enjoy it.
I reply, adding a middle-finger emoji.
Piper:
Logan: Wow, do you seriously think that’s the appropriate way to speak to your employer?
He texts with a laughing emoji.
Logan:
Piper: Oh, I’m sorry. What about this?
I send an entire line of playful middle-finger emojis, adding an angel emoji to the end.
Piper:
Logan: You’re the angel. Are you beautiful?
My mouth falls open as I read the b-word at the end of his message. Did he even mean to send that? It’s not like I’m mad that he finds me beautiful, but this is bad.
Logan: Are you finding it easier or more challenging than college?
He texts immediately, which makes me think he didn’t mean to send the b-word. He did it by mistake, and now he quickly wants to move the conversation along, so I don’t acknowledge it.
Piper: The hardest part is dressing professionally.
I decide it’s best if I ignore it.
Logan: I can imagine it’s easier to rock up to a lecture in sweatpants and a hoodie.
Piper: I’m going to need to go shopping soon. I need more shirts, more skirts. But I was also thinking about getting some pants, too.
This is the lamest way to change the subject, but the specter of ‘beautiful’ is hanging over us. He called me beautiful. The fact he seemingly did it without thinking makes it even more significant.
Logan: Pants could be a good idea.
Piper: A good idea, hmm? How’s that, Mr. Boss?
Uh oh, have we walked into even more dangerous territory?
Logan: I’ve heard that wide hips and pants go together pretty damn perfectly.
A smile spreads across my face when he mentions my figure. When he says it, wide hips don’t seem like a bad thing.
Piper: You say that like you think I’m trying to get attention or something.
Logan: I know for a fact if you wore some form-hugging pants, you’d get attention, Hardcover.
My smile widens.
Piper: What’s with the ‘Hardcover’ stuff, Mr. Boss?
Logan: You told me if I needed a nickname for you, I’d have to think of something better. It just came to me. Hardcover because you love to read and put up a hard front. But deep down, you’re a softie.
I laugh, shaking my head ruefully.
Piper: I wish I could say I think that’s lame, but embarrassingly, I don’t. It’s actually kind of sweet.
Logan: We’re similar in that way. We both put up a front and don’t want the world to see what’s happening inside us. We don’t want them to know we’re human, nervous, sometimes doubting ourselves.
Piper: So you’re saying we’re both just a little bit like Ma Joad, huh?
She’s a character from our favorite book, Grapes of Wrath .
Logan: You continuously surprise me. Maybe I should call you Plot Twist instead.
Piper: How many nicknames does one girl need?
Logan: As many as I can think of. But I’ve changed the subject. We were talking about your upcoming fashion show.
We both know this is wrong. I mean, I do, and he must as well. We both know that we should stop. But, as my thumbs fly across the screen, excitement bubbling in me, it doesn’t feel wrong.
Piper: FASHION SHOW? I don’t think I’d go that far. I’m being lazy and need to get on top of my laundry, that’s all.
I add an army of laughing emojis.
Piper:
Logan: There are many things people could call you, Hardcover, but lazy isn’t one of them.
I bite my lip when he uses the nickname again. This is precisely when I should tell him to stop calling me that. I should say that we need to remember what’s at stake here. We need to remember how heartbreaking it would be for Elliot if he read these messages, let alone learn what we did.
And what I still want to do.
I type out a message asking him to explain in detail what he meant by the shady character Elliot had him meeting with, but the ‘nuts’ thing? I don’t want to ruin the mood. Never mind the fact there shouldn’t be a mood to ruin.
Piper: Are you going to enlighten me? What are these ‘many things’ people could call me?
That’s the message I send instead. I’m playing with fire, and weirdly, I want to be burned. I want him to feel the heat and the closeness. I’m tired of it only existing in my memory.
Does that make me the world’s worst sister? Maybe.
Logan reveals himself as the mature one.
Logan: I’d call you a damn good employee.
That’s my not-so-subtle signal that we need to stop walking down this road. A sting of unfairness hits me because he’s the one who started it. He called me beautiful and mentioned my wide hips and figure.
Piper: I’ll let you go. I’m going to get back to my book.
Logan: What are you reading?
Just like that, it’s like the flirting never happened. If it weren’t saved on my phone, I’d be left wondering if it was real. I’d be doubting and second-guessing myself.
Piper: A romantic comedy. But I’m struggling to find it very funny.
A petty part of me hopes he gets the hint. There’s nothing funny about the way he’s stringing me along.
Okay, stop, Piper. I need to calm down. He’s not stringing me along. We sent some borderline flirty texts. Then he realized it was wrong and ended it—end of story.
I try to read more of the book, but it’s as if the novel is taunting me.
“She knew she had to fight her feelings. Knew that it would end in disaster. But as the rain slid down their bodies, all she wanted was to keep kissing him. She felt like she was exactly where she belonged .”
I close my eyes and imagine Logan’s body pressed against mine, his firm muscles tickling my nipples through the fabric of my clothes. I imagine his hand sliding up my inner thigh, squeezing possessively, his touch gliding between my legs and pressing down on my clit, sliding hotly over my folds, moving to my entrance as I get tingly and wet.
From elsewhere in the apartment, I hear a door open. When Do It All took off, Elliot moved out of our childhood home into this high-rise apartment with security and even a small interior shopping mall.
I climb out of bed, partly out of curiosity but also out of sheer desperation—desperation to get away from the lust tearing through me.
Elliot walks into the apartment, sucking on his vape pen. He’s been doing that a lot recently. His vape has a Do It All sticker on it.
“You’re up,” he says.
“You sound disappointed. Did you want to sneak in?”
“No…” He shakes his head. “Is something wrong?”
“You tell me,” I reply, thinking quickly. I don’t want to drop Logan into any crap. “I saw you with a pretty shady-looking guy earlier. Do I need to be concerned?”
“Shady…” He narrows his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“He just looked suspicious, Elliot,” I snap.
“Where?” Elliot asks.
I look at him, refusing to answer, knowing this might not be the best tactic. But I don’t want to tell him I’ve been texting his best friend. I have no right to demand the truth from my big brother when I’m keeping so many secrets from him, but that doesn’t stop me from glaring.
“You don’t need to worry about anything,” he says after a pause, approaching me.
“So, why do you sound so scared?”
He takes my hand. “I mean it, Piper. I’d never let anything happen to you.”
“First, you tell me I don’t need to worry. Then you say you’d let nothing happen. What are we even talking about? Does it have something to do with your bloody nose?”
Elliot frowns. “I know a guy. Sal Mangano. He works for the mob. He wants to work with Do It All. But I’m dealing with it.”
“The mob ?” I gasp. “How do you know him?”
Elliot shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear me? I just said you don’t need to worry. Seriously, Piper. Focus on your work. On doing a good job. Sal isn’t interested in you. He’s interested in the company. So just relax, okay?”
Elliot storms off toward his room.
I almost yell at him to stop, but the clinging guilt makes it impossible.
What right do I have to yell at my big brother after everything I’ve done and everything I’m thinking about doing?
I return to bed, shutting off the lights and burying my face in the pillow, forgetting about the world.
When I wake, there’s a text waiting for me from Logan.
Logan: Morning, Hardcover.
A book emoji joins a waving symbol.
Logan:
I smile, knowing it’s wrong even if it feels so right.
Piper: Morning, Mr. Boss.