18. LOGAN
18
LOGAN
The vodka I pilfered from Levi’s stash hasn’t done me a whole lot of good. Not that the alcohol hasn’t seeped into my system and made me a stumbling, incoherent mess. It has. It’s done its job. All I’d been hoping for was some numbness, but instead I’m flat-out angry . Fuck me. How did everything go to hell so fucking quickly? I groan, propping my chin up with my hand. And now Rya’s out with my dick of a stepbrother instead of here with me, where she should be.
Frustration bleeds from my pores along with the potent alcohol I’ve been consuming. I’m intoxicated beyond what I’ve ever been in my life, but no matter, I tip the bottle to my lips again. “Fucking shitbag asshole dickwad.” My head circles around the same string of curses over and over again in an unending loop. I’d pleaded with Rya not to go with him. I’d wanted to talk things over, tell her where I was last evening. And that would have led to us possibly figuring out how to move forward now that I’ve had my hands on her.
Would I have told her that I fuckin’ love her and always have? Fuuuck. I set the bottle down on my desk, then lurch from my chair to the closet door where a mirror hangs. My chest heaves for several ragged inhalations before I rear back, then strike my reflection three times over before I find myself on hands and knees with no recollection as to how I came to be there. I blink, scowling, then lift my hand in front of my face, watching the blood ooze from my knuckles. My eyes droop for a moment, then I pry them open, trying my damnedest to focus on the mirror in front of me. That’s when I see the huge spiderweb of cracks radiating from the points where my fist must have connected with the surface. I huff out a laugh that sounds disturbing even to my drunk self. Fuuuck.
Rya. Fuck. I need her. I shake my head, then grip it in my hands to stop it from rolling off my neck. But she needs to know— I blink. I was locked in, dammit. Jaxon’s an ass. Mother. Fucker . If she’d woken me up— I heave out a breath, my jaw clenching. I’d have told her. Jaxon. My head spins, and I bring my hands up to cover my face. So fucking sexy. She’s so beautiful. My beautiful Tiny Dancer. Fuck me. I felt her up. There was no way to explain myself after that.
She ran.
From me.
Grogginess accosts my vision with blurred edges and echoes of everything in the room. I’m seeing double. No. I squint. Triple.
Rya thinks I abandoned her. I growl with a shout. And she ended up with Jaxon again. For a fuckin’ second time. Letting out an aggrieved huff, I stare for way too long at these asshole text messages from him. Went on a date. With him. Fuck. Fucking dick. Through my hazy vision, I stare long and hard at each one until they blur in front of my face and my eyes close.
She looks happy.
I’m her best friend. I want her to be happy. But with me, dammit. I slam my fist into the carpeted floor. Fuck. I’m still on my hands and knees. I groan as I unsteadily manage to gain my feet. I sure as fuck wish it’d been me holding her, making her laugh, kissing her, and inhaling the scent of citrus, lemon blossom, and vanilla from her skin.
Very specific, I know, but I happen to have been there when she took this quiz and had a variety of perfumes sent to her based on the answers she gave. I’d made the mistake of telling her that one of them was my favorite… so of course, that’s the one she chooses to wear.
My tongue sweeps over my lip. It’s like the most delicious torture, I swear. And the goddamn scent of it on her skin gives me a hard-on every fucking time I get too close.
It’s actually surprising she has no fucking clue I’m into her. But now, at the very least, she’s aware that I lust after her. But I dunno what she makes of it because she refuses to talk to me.
A breath heaves from my chest, and I feel like snarling at someone… anyone, really, even though I’d really like to focus all this tormented rage at Jaxon. Fuck. I scrub a hand through my hair, making the already tousled strands stand on end. “What the fuck is wrong with my hand,” I bite out, then swallow several more gulps of the vodka. “This is some good shit.” Better than the vodka Hazel and I had at the frat house on Saturday. It’s not burning so badly now. Maybe I’m just that drunk. I blink hard. Exhale. I actually kinda like the burn. I shut my eyes.
What might be a moment or a year later, my ears prick at the sound of hushed voices in the hallway. Ah. Home from their date. Rya hadn’t called it that, but that’s exactly what it fucking was. A wave of dizziness hits me out of nowhere. Fucking photographs. Touching my girl. Making her smile. It’s all I can do not to bellow aloud what’s screaming through my head: Mother. Fucker .
I sit up quickly— when the fuck did I sit down on the floor again? —only pausing a second due to the room tipping sideways, then rush to the door. I stumble and run headlong into it, smacking my cheekbone against the wood. Fuckin’ Levi. Leaving shit strewn all over the room.
My teeth grind at the sound of Jaxon’s voice, but then I immediately snort, the foggy memory of what I’d done earlier dancing through my mind. I’m about to teach him a lesson in revenge. “Jaxon, this is war,” I grind out. Payback is a bitch, and she’s about to come calling for him. Literally.
Earlier, I’d wandered around, sliding notes with his name and number under the door of every single female-inhabited dorm room. Whether they interpret it as Jaxon being friendly in his role of the new resident advisor or that he’s into them, I don’t particularly give two shits. But all those girls, they’d been hot for him at the dorm meeting. Brooding good looks and attitude. The nose piercings, the full lips, those inky dark eyes. I imagine he’ll start getting random texts anytime now. I snicker. Fucker. I’m going to guess he won’t be too happy once he figures out I’m responsible for them.
Footsteps retreat down our hallway, and I wait a solid minute with my forehead pressed to the door before opening it. I look in both directions, but neither of them are in sight. Shrugging, I leave my door open and head three doors down. Inside, Rya’s sweet voice carries to my ears, and my dick automatically twitches. My head spinning, it takes me a second when there’s a peal of laughter to realize it’s Hazel responding, not Rya laughing at her own joke.
Rya. Gotta talk to Rya. Gotta explain. My jaw works to the side, and without stalling any further, I knock twice.
Rya must have been right there on the other side of the door, because it pops open almost immediately. She blinks up at me, her eyes quickly scanning my face. They grow wide. “H-hi, Logan.” Her brows drag together. She looks so fucking pretty, and it pains me to think she looks like that because of the date she’s just returned from. She looked like that for him .
“Oh my god, is that blood?” Hazel questions, her eyes pinned on their door.
I turn my head and the world spins. I blink. There’s a smeared red spatter all over the wood. I glance down at my hand, flexing my fingers. Oops. “I’m fine,” I mumble. “Can we talk?”
“You got this, Ry?”
My forehead creases. Huh?
“I’m good.” Rya wets her lips, glancing over her shoulder, and my eyes follow. Hazel has studiously opened up her laptop and jammed her earbuds into her ears.
Rya faces me again, gingerly taking my hand, and gestures that we should leave. She frowns up at me when I don’t move right away, then grasps my elbow and steers me all the way to my room. “Is Levi here?” she whispers.
“No. I don’t know where he is.” The words sound normal in my head as I force them out, but when the alcohol-laden syllables hit my ears— Fuck . I’m slurring badly and I know it, but there’s really nothing to be done. I’ve well and truly pickled myself. I laugh, then with a shake of my head that makes me dizzy, I stop, swaying on my feet.
“Shit.” Rya pushes my door all the way open, then maneuvers me through and closes it behind us. I slump against it, rubbing my hands over my face.
Rya’s sigh fills the silence, and when I finally pull my hands down, she’s watching me with concern. She takes my hand again, bringing it close. Her eyes remain trained on it as she mutters, “This is your pitching arm, Logan. What were you thinking?”
I grin stupidly at her because she’s so pretty.
“Were you in a fight? Who the hell—?” She jerks to a stop when I erupt into laughter and point at my mirror.
“That guy.”
Her eyes close, her lashes fanning downward as she clenches her teeth. “Logan, why?”
“’Cause.” My jaw twitches hard at the memory of the photos Jaxon sent .
“Because why?” She glances around. “Do you have a first aid kit?”
I grimace as I point toward the bottom desk drawer. “In there. But I don’t need it.”
“You’re lucky that mirror is a piece of shit and just cracked all to hell. Can you imagine what Coach Kimball would have said if you ended up with glass in your hand?”
I swallow, watching from under hooded lids as Rya squats down to rummage through the drawer for the supplies she needs, mumbling to herself all the while.
“Sit here.”
I raise a brow and shoot her a grin, which I have a feeling is sorta lopsided and pathetic.
Exhaling harshly, she places everything on the desk, then comes over, prying me away from the door that was holding me up.
“Fuckin’ vodka.”
“What?”
“I drank it.” I hiccup. “Almost all. All gone.” My words come out singsongy, which makes me bark out a laugh, and in doing so, I trip over my feet and crash into Rya. She releases a squeak as she wraps her arms around my waist in a rather valiant effort at holding me up. I probably outweigh her by… I dunno. Seventy-five pounds? My brain is like mush. Math isn’t my strong suit anyway .
“Shit. Okay, sit.” She pushes me until the backs of my knees hit the chair, and my legs buckle.
“It’s fine.” I try to wave her off as she grabs at my hand, but she’s having none of it.
“Honestly, it’s not, Logan.”
I stare at her as intently as I can with my eyes wanting to shut the way they do. Suddenly, a stinging sensation lances through my hand, and I try to yank it toward my chest.
“Stop it. Hold still, you big, drunk baby.” Rya shakes her head. “Your eyes are rolling back in your head. Jesus, Logan. Seriously.”
I exhale, but bite back a retort about how it was her completely smashed just two nights ago, and I was a lot nicer about it. “Why do you keep goin’ out wit him?” My brain feels like cotton in there. “Locked me in. Didn’ ditch you.”
She pauses her cleaning of the blood from my skin. “What? Locked where? You said I wouldn’t believe it.”
“Yeah.” I bob my head.
“I texted you when I got back here. You didn’t answer.” Her confused gaze is pinned on my face as she hovers in front of me, bandaging my hand. Foggy memories of what it had been like to wake up with her sweet and warm in my arms slam into me. She holds up her hands in a classic I-don’t-know gesture. “Where were you, Logan? ”
I grit my teeth, then run the hand she doesn’t have a hold of through my hair before letting out a hard breath. “Fuckin’ PT room,” I manage to mumble.
Wrinkling her nose, she scoffs, “Wait, what?”
I dampen my lips, focused on her. Bitter anger whirls around in my head. “Froze my balls off.”
She wrinkles her nose. “You’re not making any sense.”
She’s so fucking beautiful. I grin big at her, then try to cup her cheek with my hand, but she bats it away. I grunt, frowning. “Lemme touch your skin. You’re not cold. Iwasso fuckin’ cold.” My jaw clenches, teeth grinding. I can tell I’m beginning to not make sense to her—or myself, to be honest—but I can’t do much to stop the effect the vodka’s having on me. “Locked. In. Ice-cold bath. Fuckin’ Jaxon.”
“How’d that happen?” When I shake my head, she whispers, “Why does it seem like there’s way more to this story than you’re letting on?” She sucks in a breath. “Tell me.”
Done playing nurse, she peers into my eyes, and I bring both hands to her hips, gripping tightly as my head drops. I let the world spin. My girl. Right. Here. With me. “Jaxon. He—” Shaking my head does no good in clearing it, and I slowly look up. My vision blurs harshly. “ Told you”—I let out a heaved breath—“fuckin’ hatesme . And Coach—” I wince. “Fuck. Already in trouble. Likes Jaxon. Gonna get booted.” I huff out another breath, feeling pathetic. “It’s what he wants.”
“Logan”—she frowns hard—“could it have been an accident?”
Accident. That word. Grates on my fucking nerves. Texting and driving. Not a fucking accident. That bitch picked up her goddamn phone on purpose. Killed my dad.
Locking me in the PT suite? Not an accident either. Fucker’s angry since forever. Thought we’d be friends, if not brothers . Never, ever done anything but hate me. Hasn’t given me a motherfucking fair shot.
Giving myself a shake, I slowly swing my head back and forth, taking longer than usual to process her question because of the detour my inebriated mind had taken. Fuck, it feels like I’ve left my brain soaking in the vodka instead of consuming it. I dig my fingers into her flesh. “Makin’ excuses, Ry. Was him.”
She lets out a tortured-sounding sigh. “I know you don’t see things the same, but I really don’t think he’d have done that to you. Not on purpose… he wouldn’t do anything to actually hurt you.”
I let loose a chuckle that has her eyes widening. “It’s what he does. Promise. Not makin’ it up.” I clutch at her hips, staring into her green eyes. She looks so fucking unsure. Of me .
“And how would I know?” She stares blankly at me, heat infusing her cheeks.
Her question is like a knife to my gut. My mind catches on the edge of insult in her voice, and it tumbles and spins, trying to figure out where I’ve gone wrong. I can read Rya well enough to know what’s in her head. Well enough to know she likes him. Doesn’t want to believe he could be the bad guy here. She’s going to choose him over me. I yank her toward me, and she somehow ends up straddled across my thighs. I lean into her, resting my forehead just above her breasts.
Rya exhales hard, the rise and fall of her chest the only thing I can bear to concentrate on. “Logan? Were you awake this morning?”
“Huh?” My brain is mush. “This morning. Um.” Right. This morning. Dick hard as a rock. My best friend’s sweet ass cheeks. Her wet pussy. Her fucking moans. I groan and lift my head, looking into her soulful eyes, and wanting so bad to?—
Rya interrupts my thoughts. “Logan… I don’t understand… what happened between us.”
I’m a fuckin’ prick. Can’t tell her the truth. Irritation runs sluggishly through my veins and muddles my head. “Won’t let him have you,” I mumble. Jerk took photos of her. Using her. A couple of deep breaths later, I grip her ass and drag her flush with my body. Before she can react, I hook one hand at the back of her neck and my mouth slams together with hers in a desperate kiss. The taste of her practically ends me. She’s mint and Rya. It’s fuckin’ heaven.
She squirms on my lap, then lets out a startled gasp into my mouth and grips my shoulders tightly as I sweep my tongue along her lips, then plunge it between them. I’m. Kissing. Rya.
The thought of it has my brain exploding, my heart racing faster and faster, and I hold her tightly in place as my cock hardens beneath her. She whimpers. Fuck. I want her. Need this.
Her lithe dancer’s body sprawled over my lap, those graceful arms around me, her fucking poetic hands in my hair. I groan, the rumble coming from deep in my chest. Her tongue rubs tentatively against mine, and I match her stroke for stroke as my blood ignites.
Breathless, she tears her lips from mine. “Logan.”
Fuuuck. I love the sound of my name on her lips. I dive back in, nipping at her mouth, unable to believe this is real fucking life right now.
“ Logan , wait.” A moment later, her hands shove against my shoulders. “Stop.”
Surprise crashes into me as she pushes from my lap, then stumbles backward into Levi’s bed. I blink, staring at her through bleary eyes. Nooo. Her lip trembles as my head spins and spins. I hold my arms out to her. “Rya?” I blink several times, trying to figure out where Rya two and three came from. Whatever is going on, all versions of her look really upset.
“Logan… I need to know. Are you doing this because you want me? Or simply to keep Jaxon from having me?” Her ragged breaths come hard and fast, her cheeks bright pink in her distress.
I groan, long and loud, furiously scrubbing my hands over my face because it feels numb. And lacking of Rya’s lips and breath. “What’re you talking ’bout?” I huff, my eyes roaming lazily over her. She bites her lip, planting her hands on her hips. Those luscious fucking hips. Fuck. I close my eyes, and my head bobs, chin hitting my chest before my eyes go wide again.
Rya. I stand and stumble forward, pulling her into my arms again. Her heart hammers hard against my chest, and I slam my lips down on hers. But it’s not like it was a minute ago. She wrestles herself away, pushing with her hands against my chest.
Crack.
Pain explodes in my cheek, and I blink hard, shaking my head as I weave on my feet. Rya’s hands cover the lower half of her face as she stares at me with wide eyes. Backing away, she then turns and flings open the door. I pitch forward, trying to go after her, but I’m not fast enough. The heart-wrenching look she tosses over her shoulder as she slams the door shut is my undoing. I drop to my knees, head in my hands.
She’s running. From me .