Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5) (14 page)

Sam shot her hand up in the air. “I’m okay with it. I love that I’m not coming home and finding a new random in the kitchen or wandering around the house.” She pointed her fork at Mason. “I didn’t enjoy that one girl in our bed last week.”

He stiffened and pointed to me. “That was him. I had nothing to do with her.”

“I know.” Her fork rotated to me. “We have a lock on our door, but I’d never used it till that day.”

“That was the redhead, right?” I grinned, remembering her. “She was a spitfire. I liked her.”

Nate grunted, tucking a napkin under his plate. “Not enough to date her.”

I shrugged. That was normal.

“I was just wondering if it had anything to do with Coach Bruce’s daughter.” Nate’s eyes were narrowed, but he showed no other reaction as he spoke.

I leveled him with a look. He held firm.

Nate was Mason’s best friend. He’d been our neighbor growing up until his family deemed Mason a bad influence and moved away, taking their son with him. He came back at the end of his senior year of high school because he’d finished all his classes and turned eighteen. His parents had no say anymore.

He’d been with us since then, but dynamics changed. I was Mason’s best friend. Nate was the second-best friend. Well, that wasn’t counting Sam who was more than Mason’s best friend, so I still claimed the spot. Nate didn’t handle the shift in friendships well. He was a weasel for a little bit, doing some shady shit and had a full-blown rebellion when he and Mason came to Cain University for their freshman year.

He was the reason Park Sebastian had even come into our lives.

A brooding feeling came over me. My thoughts were too intense. I could play an asshole. I could be the asshole, but no matter what brought it on, I didn’t enjoy feeling like the asshole.

I studied Nate for a moment. “What’s your problem?”

“You like her.”

The table grew silent again. That wasn’t a question from him. It was a statement. And for some reason, it didn’t sit right with me. I scowled. “Back off of this, Monson.”

Sam looked up at me. It meant something when we used last names. But she didn’t say anything. Neither did Mason.

Nate’s hands lifted in the air. “I’m not trying to be a dick here.”

“But you are. You’re inferring shit that’s not there. I didn’t want to screw a sidechick. So what?”

“You’re getting upset over one question.”

“I’m not.” I leaned over the table. “Coach Bruce’s daughter is a friend. That’s it.”

“I’m not saying anything otherwise.”

“Yes, you were.” I gestured around the table. “No one here is an idiot. I’m not going to sit here and let you lay the groundwork to what? Tease me? Cause trouble? If I like a girl, I’ll date her. If I want to screw a girl, I’ll bang the hell out of her. If I want to piss on someone, I’ll do that too, but what I’m not going to do is let you steer things around so I’m on the defense and you’re on the offense. Never going to fucking happen with me.”

“Logan.” Nate moved to the edge of his seat. His eyes were wide and clear, not narrowed or cagey. He placed his palms flat on the table. “I know how that shit happens, and that’s not what I was doing. I swear. The girl was hot last night, and you seemed into her until the ride home. Then you were all about Bruce’s daughter. I was just trying to bring it up in a nice way to see if there was something more there. I’m not trying to fuck with you.”

My pulse pounded in my veins. I felt it through my jawline as I stared him down.
Fuuuuck
. He wasn’t holding anything back. I thought he was coming for me, but he wasn’t. “Sorry. I misread you.” I felt like a dipshit.

“I wasn’t trying to stir anything up,” Nate murmured. “But a week ago, you would’ve taken that girl up on what she was offering last night. Plus, you wanted to hang out with Bruce’s daughter. That’s not normal. You don’t hang out with chicks unless you’re banging ’em.”

Nate cast Mason a look. He’d been quiet, observing the entire exchange.

“Nothing’s there,” I told them. “Yes, I want to bang her. She’s hot. But I don’t know.” I glanced at Sam. “She reminds me of you somehow. Maybe that’s it.”

She cocked her head to the side, growing thoughtful. “Because both our dads are football coaches?”

“No. I mean, yeah, but there’s something else—”

“There’s trauma there.” Mason stood and took his plate to the sink. He turned and rested his hands against the counter as he leaned his back on it. “His wife died a few weeks before Christmas break last year. Coach Bruce was a mess the rest of the year.”

“There was a thing at his house, right?” Sam asked. “We took food over there?”

He nodded. “I heard rumors, but I didn’t say anything because we were dealing with Sebastian then. It was all around the same time.”

“What do you mean he was a mess?” I moved my chair back from the table, folding my arms over my chest.

“He was always in the fieldhouse. I didn’t notice it much during off-season training, but I heard rumors. His wife didn’t die from cancer or anything medical.”

Sam inhaled softly. “Did she kill herself?”

A sick feeling started in me. I didn’t like my parents most days, but I loved them. If they ever took their lives—I locked gazes with my brother—that would gut me. How could a parent choose not to be there anymore? I thought about Sam. Her parents weren’t dead, but they’d left her. David, Garrett, Analise—all three of her parents had left her at one point or another. Shit, I guess our mom was half gone most of the time, but that was different. One phone call and she’d be here. She’d be annoying and acting all pretentious, but she’d be here. Sam didn’t have that, and go a step beyond that to where the mother actually offed herself?

Is that what had happened to Taylor? Did she see it?

It felt wrong to be talking about it. “Let’s shelve this, can we?”

Mason and Nate nodded.

“You like her?” Sam asked me.

My eyes went to hers. She wasn’t inferring anything like Nate had been, so I nodded. “Yeah. I like her.”

Resolve firmed her features. She nodded, and her eyes grew serious. “Then I will, too.” There was one last piece of omelet on her plate, and she speared it with her fork, eating it quickly. She gave me another small smile. “Sounds like she could use a few friends.”

MERLOT AVOIDANCE

TAYLOR

Monday morning I went to the registrar’s office and switched to a different session of Sociology 101. I felt ridiculous—switching a class because of a guy? I was
that
girl? But I had to face facts. Even if Logan and I were friends, as he’d said we were, I couldn’t be stupid. I was already damaged.

After changing my schedule, I went to my class. Mr. Fuller, Jeremy—I still didn’t know what to call him—asked me to wait after class and walk with him to Professor Gayle’s office. Maybe it was the empty feeling I got when my dad and I crossed paths during the weekend. We stopped and stared at each other. There’d been no easy words between us, or maybe it was even because I knew I wouldn’t be running into Logan anymore, but when he invited me again to the Honors Study Group that Thursday night, I said I’d go.

The small party was at Jeremy’s apartment. No professors would be there, but each student could bring a date. After he said the last part, he waited, and an awkward silence settled between us.

I frowned, but nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”

“Great.” He smiled, but it seemed forced. “In case I don’t remember to give you the details during Wednesday’s class, here you go.” He scribbled directions to his apartment on a piece of paper. “Uh, just remember to let me know if you’re bringing a date. I need a head count for ordering food. Oh—” His smile softened. “And there’ll be wine, and I know some students aren’t twenty-one yet, so if you could keep quiet about the party…yeah…”

I pretended to zip my lips. “Consider the key thrown away. I won’t be narcing on an Honors Study Group party.”

“Great.” He pointed at a number on the piece of paper now in my hand. “You can buzz that apartment, but if it’s really loud—oh, hold on.” He took the paper back and wrote his phone number on it. “You can call me, too. I’ll keep my phone in my pocket. If I can’t hear it, I’ll still feel it vibrating, so no worries. People will probably be outside anyway, so the door will be open. You shouldn’t have a problem getting in.”

“Okay.” I tucked the piece of paper into my textbook. “I’ll see you Wednesday for class.”

“Yeah.” He followed me to the door. “And then Thursday for the party.”

I nodded. Yeah, the party.

The week was uneventful. I hated to admit it, but I missed the Loganisms. My new sociology class wasn’t fun. There were no comments about mindfucking. No one made me feel awkward with sexual innuendos, or made me feel something I really shouldn’t be feeling yet. But that was why I switched. Logan was too much, too soon. And on Thursday night as I was headed to Jeremy’s apartment, I had a feeling I wouldn’t have that problem at this event.

A group of students were standing on the front steps of Jeremy’s building. I recognized a few of them from around the science building, but I faltered. Did I really want to do this? Go up there and be social? But no. This was why I came to this party, I reminded myself. It couldn’t only be Claire and Jason. It was the same reason I was getting a job—which I still needed to do. But until then… I looked up to an opened window on the third floor. Music and laughter drifted down.

Okay, Honors Study Group party, here I come.

Jeremy didn’t answer when I knocked on the door. A girl was there instead. Her cheeks were red, along with her neck, and her eyes glazed over. She held a huge glass in her hand, filled to the rim with red liquid, and she almost fell over from the force of opening the door. “Whoa.” She skidded a little. Keeping a firm grip on the doorknob, she nudged some of her hair from her face with her arm and squinted at me. “Do I know you?”

“Uh—”

She pointed at me. “You’re Claire’s friend.”

I frowned. Claire was here?

“Hold up.” She turned around and hollered, “Claire! Your high school bestie is here.”

I didn’t hear a response, but when I stepped inside, the girl shut the door behind me and took off. She held her glass high above her head and weaved through the crowd standing in the living room.

“Taylor?”

Claire’s head appeared, popping up from the kitchen. She wedged her way past a guy and two of his buddies, circling the table covered in fruit trays, cheese trays, platters of meat, and bowls of crackers. There was popcorn too, next to little clear plastic plates and a bowl filled with toothpicks. A pile of napkins sat next to the plates, but no silverware.

“What are you doing here?” Claire had a similar glass of red liquid, and I leaned forward, taking a sniff.

I didn’t have to get too close. “Is that Merlot?”

She nodded. Her cheeks were flushed like the other girl’s. “You want a glass? One of the chemistry guys brought an entire case from his family’s winery. It’s potent stuff, but it’s so good.”

I was a beer girl, and from what I remembered, Claire had been a shot girl in high school. I shook my head. She didn’t seem to care though, a goofy grin on her face. She linked our elbows and moved us around to a hallway, where we could spy on the kitchen, but the people packed in there couldn’t see us.