Four
Logan
“You beat me this time.” Blake joins me by the front entrance of the theatre wearing a tight pink sweater and faded blue jeans.
“Yeah, I was close by, and it didn’t make sense to go home only to come back this way.”
“I see. So what movie did you choose and why is it such a big secret?” He bounces on the balls of his feet, wrapping his arms around himself.
“It’s not really. I kind of didn’t decide until last minute,” I admit under my breath, and he laughs, stepping closer.
“You going to tell me what it is?”
“You going to tell me why you’re out here without a jacket on. You’re shivering like crazy.”
His teeth chatter. “I didn’t want it to hide my new outfit, and I also didn’t plan on spending much time outside.”
Arrogant as usual. “Let’s go inside, then.” I glance down at my watch. “We can grab some popcorn while we wait for the movie to start.”
“Is it something scary?” Wrinkling his face, he hooks his arm around mine and I lead us through the double doors.
“Nope.”
“A comedy?” His voice rises.
“Not really. More like a drama.” I show them our tickets on my phone and he increases his steps as we get closer to the concession stand.
“I thought you said it wasn’t a secret.” He presses his body to me, and I don’t know why I don’t push him away.
I don’t know why I hold onto him tighter either.
I guess to have a little taste of the other side for a little longer.
To see what’s so great about being accepted and flirted with by Blake Mitchell.
Or maybe that’s only something I’m telling myself.
This guy is a monster. No matter how many make?up dinners or movies he pays for, I can’t forget that. But I’m really trying to keep on the high road and not use a wrong against a wrong to make a right.
“It’s not,” I finally answer. “I just like seeing you get it wrong every time you guess.”
He releases a high?pitched laugh. “Ah, I see. You want to torture me.”
You have no idea. But I’m trying here. I’m really trying. I’m not a bad person, and it’s not too late for me to keep from becoming one. “Maybe a little.”
“Only a little?” He lifts a brow.
“Maybe a lot. It’s kind of fun. The little popular boy isn’t getting his way for once.”
He scoffs, shaking his head against my shoulder. “Oh, it doesn’t mean I won’t. It’ll just take more time until I do is all.”
So fucking arrogant. I fake a smile, yanking my arm away when it’s our turn to order.
I order a large popcorn and Blake is quickly back beside me, grabbing onto the sleeve of my jacket as he adds a box of Skittles and a red Icee.
He doesn’t stop touching me or getting as close as he can, lifting the armrest between us when we find our seats.
“Do you not know how to sit or stand on your own or something?” I grin.
“Huh?” He lays his head on my shoulder, staring ahead.
“You keep holding onto me as if you’re going to fall or slide off of your chair if you don’t.”
“Oh.” He sits up in his seat. “Sorry. I can be a little handsy sometimes on dates and don’t always realize I’m doing it.”
“Dates?” My forehead wrinkles, stomach tightening. “Is that what you think this is?”
“Isn’t it?” His voice squeaks.
“No. Why would you think that? I thought this was your way of rectifying what you did. Wasn’t aware of this hidden agenda.”
“Hidden agenda? I only thought . . . I mean that was the case yesterday, but then I thought . . . it kind of seemed like we were on the same page.”
“Same page?” I grit out. “Same page how?”
“You were flirting with me back,” he argues, brows pulled down tight.
“It’s called being polite, Blake. Do you forget what you did? You made my life a living hell in high school and then fucked my boyfriend while I was away at college.”
His face falls flat. “What? Who?”
“Stephen Murphy. Brown hair, bird tattoo. We made our relationship final the summer after we graduated and were together every day.”
“Oh, him?” He huffs a laugh. “He told me you two broke up, and I was having a rough week. We shared some drinks at a bar and then spent a weekend together. It didn’t mean anything.”
“And you really want me to believe that getting with him had nothing to do with you getting under my skin? What about my dad?”
“No . . . I honestly didn’t even make the connection when he offered to pay for my drinks. And what about your dad?” His eyes are hooded.
“You know what? I don’t know why I even agreed to this. I never should have. Dinner was pushing it as it was.” I stand from my seat and people start to pour in.
“Where are you going?” He straightens in his seat.
“Home. I forgive you, okay? So no need for more of your make-up or amending bullshit. I don’t want to hear any excuses either. I just want you to pretend I don’t exist whenever you see me somewhere. Can you do that?”
“I . . .” I walk out of the theater, leaving him tongue tied, not finishing his last thought.
I don’t need to hear it. I don’t care to.
He’s still all about his own needs and what he’ll get out of something.
This was never about him making shit better between us.
Not out of guilt or wanting to do better.
Nothing from that man will ever come from a good place.
Still, I leave things where they are because I’m better than this—than him.
And I keep saying those words to myself on my drive back home, like a mantra.
I said my peace and left him alone, looking like a speechless idiot in a movie theater.
It felt good. He’ll go on with his life and I’ll go on with mine.
This town is small but I’ll make it work.
He can stay on his fucking side of the bar and grocery store while I stay on mine.
I swerve down my dirt road, vision all over the damn place.
How does he always manage to get me so overheated?
I shut down his advances and didn’t give him what he wanted.
I won this time. So why doesn’t it feel like enough?
Maybe because what happened four days ago is so fresh in my mind.
The smell and sloshing. How their laughter was like nails on a chalkboard.
The glint in his eyes was hard to miss when he tore into me with one of his typical insults.
I don’t remember how I got into the house after I arrived home, or when I stepped into the shower, only now registering my hands slamming into the walls, bruising each time my skin comes in contact with the tile. A date? He really thought I’d want to date him?
It’s the damn audacity. He really thought he was such hot shit that I’d simply look past the damage he’s done, and what? Become one of his play things? Have him use me until he’s bored and then go right back to laughing at me? I’d rather submerge myself in more pig guts.
A knock at the bathroom door has me shutting off the shower. “Yeah?”
“I’m going to a book club meet up at the church. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”
“Okay,” I say quickly, drying off with a towel and waiting for Mom’s footfalls to go quiet enough for me to emerge from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist.
The front door shuts as I’m rushing to my room.
I rustle through my drawer, pulling out some sweats and a plain T-shirt.
As I’m using the towel to soak up more water from my hair, the doorbell sounds around me.
My gaze shoots toward the hall and I lower the towel, one end dragging on the ground as I slowly approach the echoing noise.
I’ve always hated how a whole fucking jingle plays, repeating itself three times before shutting the fuck up.
I’m frozen solid after opening the door. Blake shrinks in on himself, revealing a brown wallet from behind his back. “You left this behind. I think it fell out of your pocket at some point.”
I snatch the wallet from his hand, looking it over before tossing it on the entryway table. “Thanks,” I say, closing the door.
A knock comes as soon as I turn my back, and I curse under my breath, balling my fists at my sides. Why won’t he just go away?
I yank open the door and he looks everywhere but me, his hands placed behind his back as he sways side to side.
“What?” I say between clenched teeth.
“I . . .” His chest heaves. “I don’t want to leave things like this. It doesn’t feel right. And I really didn’t know you and Stephen were still together. He said he was single.”
I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Oh, now it doesn’t feel right, huh?”
He scratches at the back of his head. “It never has, but I don’t want to just go home and pretend it didn’t happen anymore. Hayden might not have changed, but I’d like to try.”
“I don’t understand what it is that you want. I already said I forgive you.”
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t feel like you do, and I really want you to see that my apology’s sincere and there’s no hidden agenda. I mean, yeah, I think you’re sexy and may have gotten a little ahead of myself after what I thought was a connection.”
I give him a dead?eyed stare. “A connection?”
“Yeah. I haven’t talked to anyone like that . . . I’m not sure . . . ever. It was nice and the conversation never felt forced. Nothing felt expected of me either. I didn’t feel like I had to try or anything. And did I mention you’re super sexy?”
I scoff, following his gaze as he takes his time looking me over. “Did you tell my dad he was sexy too? Did you also have a connection?”
His expression goes blank. “Why do you keep bringing up your dad, and why would I ever say that to someone over twice my age.” He wrinkles his face.
My eyes squint. He has to be fucking with me. “You’re saying you weren’t sending my dad naked photos of yourself through some sugar daddy app?”
He laughs, eyes going wide. “A what now? Look, I don’t judge anyone else for being into older men but that’s not me.”
My brow furrows. “Then how would he have naked photos of you on his phone, and where the hell is all his money going?”