Before You Go (YA Romance) (5 page)

“You are,” he snapped. “You’re just another—”
spoiled rich bitch
.

She guessed that’s what he would have said; he clamped his mouth closed before he could finish, turned, and stomped out the room, slamming the door so hard the doorknob rattled.

*

Margo marched through the wet yard, determined to find Jana and request a change of venue. She’d ask, with dignity and manners, if she could move one of the bunk beds into that empty room. It had a few cobwebs, but she could handle that.
No, no,
Jana would say, not for Cindy Zhu’s daughter. Space would be made in the casa.

But what if it wasn’t?

Then Logan would be moved. To the barn, with the rest of the animals, because she was starting to think that’s where he belonged.

Shame, anger, and hurt warred inside her tight chest. She’d compared and contrasted his behavior in the plane, and then in the observatory dome, and there was only one conclusion: when they’d first met, he’d felt sorry for her. The realization hit Margo like a fly ball. He knew her dad had died, her mom had ditched her, and—
c’mon
—she’d been pitiful. She’d
cried
.

She’d cried, and then she’d slapped him.

Margo pulled open the casa door and strode toward the gentle roar of voices, telling herself she
could
show her face. The long, shadowy hall led her under several blue-tiled archways, down three wide stairs, and into a dining hall as big as a ballroom. It had stucco walls, lots of ferns, and palm-frond fans hanging from the high ceiling.

The kitchen was sunken on the left end—an octagon with a wide, low counter that opened it to the rest of the room. The counter was piled with food and surrounded by people.
  

She put a hand to her ear, trying to block out the island music, and scanned the crowd for Jana. Instead, she spotted
him
. Logan. He was wearing a new t-shirt—slightly tight and grey, with something stenciled above his left peck. His cheekbones sported stripes of pinkish heat, and that dark, wavy hair fanned around his face. His tiger smile was fit for
a toothpaste
commercial. His lids looked low, those tired eyes lazy.

Margo steeled herself against another wave of anger and regret, and followed his gaze to a wicker table. There, at its furthermost edge, was Janna, breaking off two pieces of a fruit sculpture and passing them to two bouncing red-haired boys.

Heck, yeah! Margo was closer! She bounded to the woman’s side.

“
Hola
,” Jana chirped. “You are settled in?”

Margo opened her mouth to get straight to the point, but the twins began to shriek. They dashed off, weaving through the legs of the kitchen staff, tripping and jumping to…
him
. For a horrible second, Margo thought Logan was Jana’s boy toy—but no. That was ridiculous.
As well as totally irrelevant.

Logan knelt to greet the boys, his eyes flashing first to their mother, then to Margo, and Jana seemed to fall under his spell. She stepped toward him, indicating with a sweep of her arm that Margo should do the same.

She had no choice.

Someone handed her a glass of red punch, and she downed it too quickly,
then
forced herself through a group of chattering researchers. They patted her and grinned at her, and she had to greet them all. A few feet away, Logan was speaking, Jana nodding. Margo took a deep breath and closed the distance.
 

“You did not tell me you had a problem with the plane!
So
terrrible
!”
Jana’s eyes jerked from Margo to Logan, inspecting them like a mama bird. She grabbed Margo’s arm and squeezed Logan’s shoulder.

“Logan, you were afraid?
Mar-
goooo
?”
She tugged her gaze away from Logan’s solemn face and shook her head at Margo.
“
Pftt
!
That is not a welcome! You know,” she continued, her face lighting up, “Logan is the best pilot we have. He is the smartest. He is only 18 and already half-way through MIT!” That said with the enthusiasm of
his own
mother.

Margo glanced at him through the dark fringe her lashes and found his face a stone. No, not quite. His lip twitched. “I think the plane’s okay.
Just some broken blades.
I can fix it on my own time.”

Jana shook her head.
“Oh, no.
We take care of that! And I’m sorry to Mar-
gooo
again! And thank you to you.” She pressed her finger on Logan’s t-shirt, between the twin curves of his
pecs
, and he flinched.

Margo seized her chance. “Did you mean to put Logan and
I
in the same room?”

Jana’s mouth dropped open. She clamped her palm over it.
“Oh,
noooo
.
No. That was an accident!” Margo held her breath, waiting for some sweet acquittal. It didn’t come. Jana shook her head, strawberry hair bouncing. “I am sorry. There is no other place.”

Margo and Logan spoke at once. He said, “There’s the room above the barn,” while Margo thrust her arm up like an over-eager pupil. “I can move.”

Jana looked from face to face, brows clenched like she was thinking hard. Her eyes settled on Logan. “Logan, you are good,
sí
?”

She looked at Margo. “You think he’s a handsome man?”

Margo choked, but Jana wasn’t waiting for her answer.

“The two of you—” She lifted her hand, pointing from Logan to Margo— “you stay there for two weeks.
Only two.
Team Tokyo goes home, I have more room.”

“I’ll stay in the stables,” Logan said firmly, but Jana shook her head. “No, no, no. No stables. Mar-goo will not bite. You will bite her?”

Grimly, he muttered, “I won’t.”

“
Sí
!
Logan, you be Mar-goo protector. We will be watching out for Margo. Not let anything bad happen.”

Logan looked like he wouldn’t mind something ‘bad’ happening, but he nodded.

“I want you to be friends. You are both young, bonito! I give the deck to you.
You going
outside!” She squeezed Logan’s shoulder. “You do this for me! Eating with a beautiful girl, it is not so bad!”

6

Logan
rubbed his eyes, setting off fireworks that made his head throb harder. He’d gotten a beast of a headache after that argument with Margo.

He sighed. He knew Jana was European, but really? Did she think he wasn’t a guy?

He pushed the deck door open and stepped down onto the tile floor, wondering what exactly he was supposed to say. He’d planned on ducking out of dinner, but apparently Jana had alerted Oscar to her plan. The jovial chef had pulled him aside, encouraging him to “take some time.
Ella
es
lonely.”

Logan squeezed between the table and the wall. The porch was small, just a round purple table pinned by screen and stucco. But still, it dwarfed Margo. She seemed folded into herself, huddled over her plate, her shoulders not half the size of his. Her brown curls spilled down the chair’s thatched back.

She didn’t look up as he sat down.
Didn’t flinch when his plate slipped from his sweaty hands and clattered onto the table.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

His gaze glided over the soft lines of her profile, to her rich brown eyes, her luscious hair. Her lips were gently full, her cheekbones sketched up high, like her mother’s. But where Dr. Zhu’s face was wide and smooth, Margo’s was heart-shaped and…detailed.

Logan didn’t know how to explain it, but there was a lot in the tip of her chin, in the twist of her mouth and the scrunch of her dark, smooth brows. She was pretty, but there was something else…

He glanced back up at her. Drawn into herself, she reminded him of a rabbit about to leap. The thought made him remember what Jana said about protecting her. He wondered from what. He imagined wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her close against his side. He remembered the way her hand felt in his.

It didn’t matter, he told himself. Didn’t matter what he wanted. All that mattered was his family, and the freedom he could buy them—and himself— if he kept pleasing Cindy Zhu.
 

*

Margo wished with all her heart that she could disappear.
Just poof herself from Isis to Elizabeth’s house at Tahoe.
The
Timberdimes
would be drinking gin and playing chess, smoking Cuban cigars and making crude jokes about Republicans.
Wild and raucous and totally cozy.
Nothing like the stifling awkwardness going down on the small patio at Casa de Zhu.

As Margo brought a fork-full of fried banana to her mouth, she wondered which was thicker—the humid air or the anxious
aggression rolling off
her new roommate. He glanced at her plate,
then
began cutting his enchilada, silverware scraping china with a squeak that pinched her bones.

He put a bite in his mouth.
Chewed.

She took a long sip of her orange juice.

He cut another piece.

She considered just chugging her whole glass, taking her plate and leaving without a word.
He
could eat alone. She could run up to the room, grab her cell phone and see if—

“So.”
His low voice made her jump. She glanced up. His face was bleak. As was his tone, when he asked, “How’s it going?”

She froze with her fingers around her glass.
How’s it going?
Surely he was making some joke, but his face was…well, still bleak.

She looked back at her plate. Pushed some grits around.
It’s
terrible
, she thought, and wanted to tell him he was why. She settled for “fine.”

She picked up her fork again, spearing a piece of enchilada. She was conscious of his eyes on her as she closed her lips around it. He was watching her so closely.
Like he’d seen her naked.

The shock of the memory made her throat constrict, and a lump of chicken got stuck. She gulped for air, but nothing could get in.

She rushed her glass to her lips, and Logan started rising from his chair. She stuck out her hand and waved until he sat back down. “I’m fine,” she gasped.

His eyebrows arched, but the rest of his face was cruelly passive
.“
Good,” he mumbled. “Glad you didn’t…choke.”

Margo laughed, but it was more a snort. He didn’t sound like he was glad.

“Right,” she murmured, glancing sideways at him.

For the next sixty seconds or so, there was nothing but the swish of the fan and the thin scrape of silverware. Through the gauzy screen walls, she saw lightning bugs sparkling against the dark, dripping yard. The moon’s glow spilled pearly light on the gently sloping treetops, and Margo thought how far they were now from the terror of the plane. Had that even happened?

Yes, it had.

And how wretched was her luck?

She was shoveling sweet potato in her mouth when his voice rumbled again. She looked over, thinking he was going to speak, but apparently he was just clearing his throat.

Good grief, how awkward was this going to get? Friends or not, they should be making conversation if they were stuck out here.

“Do you guys always eat this late?” she tried.

“It just depends.” Those blue eyes found hers, and it was like a puzzle clicking into place. Margo felt her face warm up and prayed he couldn’t see it in the flickering candle light.