Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Salem
“I can’t believe I even have to ask this again,” I growl, regretting every decision that led me to this moment. “But where is everyone sleeping?”
All I get in response are blank stares and a shrug from Taylor, who clearly thinks this is hilarious.
It’s fucking not.
Why does this always happen to me? How do I end up surrounded by too many exes and not enough goddamn beds?
The RV has two tiny bunks, a pullout couch that would only be comfortable for someone under five feet tall, and two assholes currently snickering like teenage girls.
I turn my glare on both of them. “No. Do not make this weird.”
Taylor smirks. “I think we passed weird years ago.”
“We all know who I'm sleeping with.” Christian throws an arm around Arya, kissing her temple. “We'll take the bottom bunk.”
Tay jabs a thumb over his shoulder at Huck. “I licked him, so he's mine. Top bunk for us.”
Huckslee offers a semi-apologetic smile, but I don’t miss the way he glances at Logan sulking in the corner. Devon’s not much better, slouching against the kitchenette as he scowls out the window.
“Fine,” I sigh heavily, gesturing toward the pullout. “Who sleeps here?”
Silence.
Huck shifts awkwardly beside Logan, worrying his bottom lip. His attention bounces between me and his best friend like I have some magic cure for whatever the fuck is happening with him.
Newsflash: I don’t. He’s no longer my responsibility.
A slow, mischievous smile crawls across Taylor's face. “I mean, you and Logan are married—”
“Absolutely not.”
Logan doesn't even look up from the floor. “Yeah, I’d rather not.”
Our friends exchange surprised glances as the air grows heavy, like a fist tightening around my lungs.
Christian lets out a low whistle. “Damn, you fucked up, chica.”
Growling in frustration, I snatch the nearest pillow and blanket. “I'll just fucking sleep outside.”
That catches Logan’s attention. “Salem—”
“And I'll sleep with Logan,” Devon interrupts, shrugging like it's no big deal.
Logan’s head whips around to his uncle. He quickly hides his horrified expression, but not quick enough for me to miss it.
“Great, problem solved,” I mutter, shouldering my bag before stomping toward the door. “Everyone go the fuck to sleep. We have to be up in a few hours
A chorus of goodnights trails behind me, but the only response I have is the slam of the door.
I climb into the bed of Taylor’s truck, pulling my blanket tight around me despite the summer heat.
It's quiet, with nothing more than the sounds of crickets and cicadas humming. Stars scatter across the night sky like glitter, but my thoughts are so loud that I can’t bring myself to enjoy any of it.
Staring up at them, my heart sits heavy in my chest at the memory of Logan's mumbled rejection. Not that long ago, he would have jumped at the opportunity to share a bed.
I hate that he can still surprise me. I hate that a part of me wonders what he sees when he looks at me now, if he sees the woman he fell in love with or just some homie-hopping asshole.
I roll onto my side and curl into myself, closing my eyes as I recall the first time I noticed him at prom during our senior year of high school.
“Where the fuck is he going?” Taylor grumbles, scowling over my shoulder.
I fumble with the straps of my dress. “Who?”
He jerks his chin toward the double doors at the back of the gym, past the crepe paper streamers and disco lights. “Huckslee.”
Following his gaze, I spot his stepbrother slipping out into the parking lot, blond curly hair bouncing as he shoulders open the door. I shrug, more fascinated with the guy who’s leaning against the wall just beyond the neon lights of the dance floor.
He’s tall, almost gangly, dressed in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up, collar slightly askew like he fought his tie and lost. Light brown hair falls neatly over his brow.
When he catches my attention, he smiles softly. The lights sparkle off his honey-gold eyes, and my stomach flips.
"Who's that?” I murmur, tilting my head just enough to break eye contact.
Taylor follows my line of sight, then scoffs. “Huck’s best friend. Logan.”
Hmm. Doesn't ring a bell. I've never noticed him before, but I can feel the way his eyes seem to caress my skin. "He's still staring, huh?"
Tay pulls out his phone, smirking wickedly as he texts someone (probably Huck) before grabbing my wrist. "Come on," he laughs, yanking me forward.
I yelp, gripping at his arm to keep from falling. "Where the hell are we going?"
"I'm about to tell this asshole to stop staring at my girl."
I toss Christian a perplexed look over my shoulder, but he just rolls his eyes and gestures for Matty and Xed to follow.
Since when the fuck has Taylor ever cared about who stares at me? It's not like we're official or anything. We weren’t even planning on coming to this overrated thing, but we thought it would be funny to make jungle juice out of the punch.
Xed and Tay dumped three different liquors into the bowl while I flirted with the gym teacher—who was supposed to be preventing that very thing from happening. I felt absolutely disgusting afterward, but it paid off in the end. Now it’s a party.
Taylor hauls me across the gym floor like a man on a mission, spilled punch squelching under my checkered Vans. I’m half-mortified, but half-intrigued because the boy we’re marching toward hasn’t looked away once.
He’s still leaning against the wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his black dress pants like he has nowhere better to be. His brows arch, and my stomach flips as he watches us approach.
“Can I help you?” he asks when we skid to a stop. His voice is deeper than I expected, laced with a hint of mischief that glints in his eyes.
Tay points at him. “You’ve been eye-fucking my girl all night.”
“Taylor!”
A rosy pink spreads over Logan’s cheeks, spreading to the tips of his ears “Have I?”
Shit, is this guy actually blushing?
“Yes,” Taylor spits. “It’s creepy.”
"Tay, stop," I hiss, yanking my hand out of his grip. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
His gaze flicks to mine briefly before landing on his stepbrother's best friend. "What, no date of your own? Had to show up with Fuckslee?"
Logan's whole face shifts, contempt twisting his features as he straightens away from the wall. "Back the hell off, Tottman."
"Or what? You'll tell on me?"
Pulling out my phone, I ignore the bickering boys and capture a few photos of the gym for my journalism assignment. They won't be super fancy quality but hey, a grade is a grade. It's not like writing articles is my passion, anyway.
By the time I tune back into the conversation, Huckslee has reappeared with some other guy that Taylor seems to be pissed at, and their dad is standing right behind them. Christian, Matty, and Xed are watching the show while passing around a bag of fucking popcorn, and Logan is still staring.
Smirking, actually.
"What the hell are you smiling at?" I ask, stuffing my phone into my bra as Huck and Taylor disappear to the concession table.
Those golden eyes run over the red ringlets falling over my shoulder. “You look like Christmas.”
My heart skips several beats, but I snort in response. "That was cheesy."
He just grins in an extremely dorky… and adorable kind of way. "I'm a cheesy guy."
What the hell?
I gaze at him incredulously because is this boy seriously flirting with me right now?
"Look," I sigh, tossing my hair. "I admire your confidence, I really do, but you aren't my type."
"And what type is that?" he asks, tilting his head. Genuinely curious. Obviously still interested.
It's my turn to smirk when I come up with the most raunchy, unhinged thing I can think of to scare him off. "I like good boys who bend over and let me peg them until they cry."
It’s not a total lie. That's why I dated Brad Hanegin last year. He was into it.
Logan's pupils blow wide, lips parting on a soft gasp as if I’d just punched the air right out of him.
For a second, I think it actually worked.
He looks stunned. Deer in headlights, floundering like a fish, completely struck speechless. But then that shock turns to fear and he squirms, redirecting his attention. I follow his gaze… right down to the boner in his pants.
"Jesus Christ." Spinning around, I stomp away, but he's hot on my heels.
"Salem, wait, I can explain–”
I quickly lock myself in the ladies room, hoping that if I hide out for a bit, he'll fuck off and leave me alone.
That night had been a complete disaster for everyone, but needless to say, Logan did not leave me alone. He hounded me until I finally folded and gave him what he wanted—and continued to give it to him repeatedly for two years as I molded myself into the perfect little housewife.
What did I get in return? Heartbreak. Abandonment. Because the morning after we drunkenly got married, Logan found out I’d slept with Devon and left without a word. Not even a fucking goodbye.
The minute he realized I wasn’t some good little Christian girl like he expected me to be, he jumped ship. Left me to deal with everything alone, just like I’ve always done.
Now tell me this: How the hell are we supposed to come back from that?