Seventeen
Seventeen
When Logan gets to me, I jump up like the cushion underneath my butt just caught fire. I move my alarmed gaze from him to the front door, where I am expecting Thomas to appear at any moment.
“Logan, what are you doing here?”
He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes wandering around the chaotic room. It feels like he’s looking for someone. “I…wanted to talk to you, actually.”
“I thought we already did that,” I answer with a trembling voice.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Tiffany getting up off the sofa.
She puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it as if to give me courage before walking past the both of us and vanishing out onto the lawn.
Knowing my friend, she probably went to find Thomas and keep him out of the house for as long as possible.
At least, I’m really hoping that’s what she’s doing.
“Yes, true,” Logan continues. “But I didn’t like the way we left things. I realized I was pretty rude to you.” He sits down on the sofa, and I turn to look at him.
Logan rests his elbows on his knees, rubbing his forehead with a clenched fist as if pausing to reflect on something troubling.
Then, his blue eyes turn attentively to me.
“I don’t like this situation that has been created between the two of us.
We don’t speak, we avoid each other like the plague.
And any time we do get near each other for some reason, like this morning in class, you are clearly uncomfortable. ”
I shut my eyes and sigh. “Logan, we already talked about this—”
“Let me finish,” he interrupts me, irritated.
I fold my arms over my chest and nod for him to go ahead.
“I like you, okay? It would be pointless to deny it. But, believe it or not, I’ve made my peace with that.
And when I told you before that this would just be about studying, I was being sincere.
I want you to be my tutor, Vanessa. I want you because you’re good.
The best, actually, and you know it. But I also realize that I’ve put you in a difficult position, and that’s why I’m here.
I want to clear the air with Thomas once and for all. ”
He seriously came here to talk to Thomas? Not a chance. At least, not before I do.
“I want to reassure him that I’m not going to use this as an excuse to try to get with you.
And I also want to apologize for goading him that night at the Marsy and for not waking you up when you fell asleep.
” He pronounces the last part with a certain embarrassment, slumping his shoulders as if just saying it out loud has made him feel about as big as an ant.
“I know it’s an awful excuse, but I was so excited to be with you that night. Instead, I was confronted with a painful truth that got my head all turned around. But I want you both to know that I’m ashamed of what I did,” he finishes in a gloomy tone, hanging his head like a beaten dog.
His low, suffering look conveys all of his misery to me. There’s a small part of me that doesn’t want to blame him at all. It’s clear that he was hurt, and everyone does things they regret when they’re being driven by anger and pain.
“Okay, I agree. I’ll be your tutor,” I say, overcome by guilt.
He lifts his eyebrows, just as surprised as I am to hear me say those words. “You’ll really do it?” he asks, almost incredulous.
I nod. After all, it’s really just a matter of giving him a little help with homework, right? But I do want to make one thing clear. “I will help you, Logan. But if you do or say anything that makes me regret this decision, our sessions will end immediately.”
“I won’t do anything like that, I promise,” he says fervently.
“And the meetings will be held exclusively on campus in a study hall,” I add.
I chew on the inside of my cheek and suck in a deep breath, terrified that I’ve just made the wrong call.
But then I try to convince myself that I’m just blowing the whole thing out of proportion.
No, Thomas certainly won’t be jumping for joy when he hears about this, but he’ll understand. He’ll have to understand.
“Of course.”
“Okay. Then, I think we should meet on Monday before class to see where you are and draw up a plan of attack. We should also schedule the meetings, and you’ll have to—”
“What meetings are you talking about?”
I jump when I hear his voice from behind me.
Logan leaps to his feet, eyes widening. I turn slowly toward the towering figure behind me, who is currently staring me down with fire in his eyes and his jaw clenched painfully tight.
The familiar sadness in my chest mixes uneasily with my growing anxiety as I try to think of a way to explain everything to Thomas as quickly as possible while making sure he doesn’t misunderstand anything.
“Hey! Uh…that was quick. How’s Leila? I hope everything’s okay?” I give him an extremely tight smile; even my knees are quivering. You could cut the tension with a knife.
“I asked you a question,” Thomas insists rudely, arms crossed over his chest. The imitation smile vanishes from my face. I tuck my hair behind my ears and swallow hard, preparing myself for the worst.
“Look, I can explain everything, but you have to promise me that you won’t get mad when—”
“Don’t blame her; it’s my fault,” Logan interjects from behind us.
Thomas’s menacing glare snaps to him. He pushes past me and stands in front of Logan, looming over him completely. I suck in a sharp breath, and I can feel my hands shaking with fear as Thomas grabs Logan by the collar of his coffee-colored polo. The tips of their noses are nearly touching.
“You’re stalking her. You stick to her like a fucking tick. Tell me, are you stupid or just suicidal?”
Logan automatically raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t come here to fight. I came here to apologize to you.”
“I wouldn’t wipe my ass with your apologies,” Thomas growls frostily. Then, before anyone can stop him, Thomas punches him right in the cheekbone. Logan tumbles onto the sofa. The people around us, who were drinking and dancing, now turn to stare at us.
I jolt, clapping my hand over my mouth. Thomas starts to lunge for him again, but I grab his arm and pull him back. “Are you insane?”
“Tell me why he’s here, at my frat, with you!”
I want to answer him, to explain the situation, but the words lodge in my throat. Before I can push myself through it, Logan answers for me.
“I’m here because I didn’t want Vanessa to agree to tutor me before I’d clarified the situation with both of you,” he mumbles miserably, touching his injured cheek with his hand.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Thomas snarls through gritted teeth.
For a moment, I am perfectly still, as if time has stopped. Then I grab the bottom of my sweatshirt, which covers me to midthigh, and start twisting it anxiously. “Listen, I–I…I was just about to tell you in the kitchen, right before your phone rang, remember?”
“You were going to tell me what?”
Logan moves closer and gives me a surprised look. “Wait, he didn’t know yet? I thought you’d already told him.”
If the icy stare I level at Logan could talk, it would be saying, Shut your fucking trap!
The hurt that I see in Thomas’s eyes is killing me.
“I’m sorry,” Logan murmurs again. “I never intended to make a mess like this. I came here to fix things, but instead I’ve only made them worse.
” He gives me a heartbroken look and shakes his head.
He pushes past Thomas and starts to leave but halts halfway.
“One last thing, then I’ll stop bothering you.
” He approaches me, feeling for something in the back pocket of his jeans.
He takes out a small floral-patterned notebook. My class notebook!
“It slipped out of your bag when we met up yesterday. I wasn’t able to return it to you because you’d already left.
I apologize again for all of this.” His eyes flick back to Thomas, who is still glaring at him.
Then he walks away, leaving me speechless with my hands still outstretched, holding the notebook.
Thomas gives me a look filled with resentment. I don’t even have time to say anything before he turns his back on me and heads for the door.
“Thomas! Stop, please!” I beg, running after him. He ignores me and continues walking away with determined strides, pushing aside anyone who blocks his path. I knew this was how it was going to go!
Before he gets out the door, I try to grab his arm, but he jerks away from me. I can’t figure out whether he’s running after Logan or away from me. But all my questions are answered when he gets out on to the lawn, and I hear him shout: “FALLON!”
Thomas reaches out and grabs Logan by the back of his shirt. He shoves him up against a tree to the right, pressing a forearm into his neck. I stop just a step away from them, frozen with fear. “Whatever you’re planning, I swear to God I will make you regret it.”
“I–I’m not planning anything. I–I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan tries to say, his hands pushing against Thomas’s wrist in a futile attempt to free himself.
“Thomas, enough, please, just leave him alone.” I shove my way between the two of them and try to separate them, but Thomas won’t let me.
“You know. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he insists, sneering in such a malevolent way that it makes my skin crawl. Then Thomas steps back and, never taking his eyes off of Logan, allows him to go with a promise contained in his menacing stare: You are a dead man.
Logan staggers away from us. His breathing is shallow, and he’s stifling a cough as he rubs his neck with one hand. His face is purple, twisted with fear. I stare helplessly at him, completely desolate.