by Bailey B
Gunner digs in the front pocket of his shorts and pulls out a small plastic baggie with two white pills inside. “Want one?”
I force a smile that’s sure to look like a grimace. I don’t do drugs, never been curious enough to try. I haven’t even smoked pot and it’s legal in California. My friends did all kinds of stuff when we partied, but after years of saying no they didn’t waste their breath offering. “What is it?”
“E.” Gunner places one pill on his tongue and swallows, expecting me to do the same.
I shake my head. I’ve obviously never tried ecstasy before and don’t plan on my first time being with some guy I barely know, even if he does like me. Gunner tucks the pill back in the baggie and slips it in his pocket again. “Your loss. Come on.”
He pulls me to the middle of the dance floor where Sarah, Melody, Rachel, Tad, and Jake are. Sarah holds her hands out and pulls me into a hug. She leans into my hair and yells, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I yell back because it’s pointless to have this conversation now. Sarah hasn’t been the best friend that past few days. Sure, she still picked me up and brought me home from school, but that’s as far as her kindness went. We didn’t talk in the car, let alone on campus. If not for her semi-welcoming smile at lunch, I’d think driving me was a chore and we weren’t friends anymore. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”
Gunner steps behind me, grabbing hold of my waist and pulling me against him, ending my conversation with Sarah. Our bodies move like one as we fall in rhythm to the music. Too many songs later I’m out of breath. I stop moving as the music changes over and look around. Sarah is still going strong, dancing with some chick in my math class. Jake and Rachel are practically screwing each other on the dance floor, Tad’s locking lips with a brunette I’ve never seen, and Melody and Gunner are nowhere in sight. When did they disappear?
I step around people, slowly making my way to the stairs to the main floor. The living room feels a hundred degrees cooler, making my skin break out in goosebumps again. I amble through the house and find my way back to the kitchen. I’m dying of thirst but have no desire for beer or anything of that nature.
“The keg is outside,” Logan says while I open the cabinet nearest me.
My stomach comes to life, flipping and jumping at the sound of his voice. I thought he’d left after the bathroom debacle, but I guess he stayed. It dawns on me that we’re the only ones in the kitchen, everyone else is either outside on the patio or down in the basement, which makes me oddly uncomfortable, especially now that I’ve seen his dick.
I swallow the knot in my throat and turn around, pretending to be unfazed by Logan’s presence when really, I feel my pulse everywhere; toes included. “I wanted a glass of water.”
Logan steps around the kitchen island in the center of the room to the fridge and opens the door like he owns the place. I know he doesn’t, but whoever lives here must throw a lot of parties because everyone seems to be more than comfortable. He grabs a bottle of water from the rack on the door and tosses it to me. “Here.”
Despite my best efforts, I’m at war with myself whenever Logan is near. The logical part of my brain tells me he’s bad news. He’s a player. A punk. He’s everything I don’t need in my life. But then my heart flutters and my stomach flips and every fiber in my body goes haywire leaving me a hot, confused mess that apparently makes questionable decisions.
I catch the water, twist the cap off, and take a sip. The cool liquid feels heavenly against my dry throat. I’m hotter than I realized, possibly because Logan has that effect on me. “Is this your form of an apology for acting like a dick all week?”
Logan ignores my question and hops onto the kitchen island. He leans forward, gripping the edge of the counter, the dark ink on his arm flexing.
Maybe it’s because of what we did in the bathroom, or maybe I’m finally losing the battle against my feelings, but I need Logan to talk to me. I have this nagging fear that if we can’t find a way to communicate now, there will never be anything between us beyond that one moment of pride dipped in lust. “What’s your tattoo of?”
Logan holds out his forearm and smirks. It’s an octopus whose tentacles wrap around the rest of his forearm. I run my fingers across the ink taking in all the details. He shudders under my touch but doesn’t pull away.
My fingers trail across his palm and he closes his hand around mine. I look up into his ember eyes, noticing the clear ring around his irises from his contacts. We stay like this, the tension between us thickening with each breath. I know he feels this pull. There’s no way this is one sided.
“I’m surprised your mom let you get one.”
Logan retracts his hand back and grips the edge of the counter. His jaw tenses, and I get the feeling his family dynamic isn’t picture perfect anymore. “Saw your boyfriend a little while ago.”
I hate the assumption that because Gunner and I have kissed that we’re together. I don’t take relationships lightly. Committing yourself to one person like that is a huge step in my book. Not to mention, boyfriends expect more than kissing. I have to really like someone to take things to that level. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“That’s good, because Gunner and Melody are upstairs fucking each other’s brains out right now,” Logan says, his voice a temerarious purr.
I clench my jaw to keep it from falling open. I can’t be mad at Gunner, although I kind of want to be. Just a few hours ago, I had Logan’s dick in my hand and at lunch I would have kissed him in a heartbeat if he would have let me. We aren’t together, not really. I have no claim on him, but the thought of him balls deep in Melody is disgusting.
“Hey, doll face,” Gunner says, choosing that moment to walk into the kitchen, Melody a few steps behind him. “Where'd you disappear to? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He pulls me by the hips into a backwards hug and wraps his arms around me. He smells like a keg that’s gone swimming in a pool of cologne.
I cross my arms, Logan’s words fresh in my mind. But Gunner is supposed to be the nice guy. Nice guys don’t cheat. It’s not cheating if we’re not dating, I remind myself. “You’re the one who disappeared, Gunner. Not me.”
Gunner steps in front of me and tucks his thumb under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His usually bright blue eyes are bloodshot, likely from the pill he took. I swallow hard, wishing I felt something more for him than frustration.
“I had to take a piss. When I got back you were gone.” Gunner’s voice is smooth like honey and sticky with what feels like a lie.
My gut tells me not to believe him, that something more happened than what he’s letting on. But my head tells me to take a breath. Calm down. And think logically. “What about Melody?
“What about her? She’s Logan’s girl.”
My eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. I thought Melody was overreacting the other day in the hallway. I don’t feel bad for beating the shit out of her, the bitch started it, but if she truly is Logan’s girlfriend, Melody had every right to be pissed at me…and all the other girls he’s cheated with.
Logan drops his chin to his chest and shakes his head. As if on cue, Melody slinks over to Logan and steps between his legs. She sets her hands on his thighs rubbing dangerously close to his cock and the same fire I felt around Emily ignites in my veins.
I don’t want Melody touching him.
I don’t want anybody touching him.
Logan grunts and shoves her back a step. “Quit.”
My imagination runs rampant, torturing me with images of a naked Melody writhing beneath Logan. Her sweat glistened body arching as Logan buries himself between her legs. The image flickers into motion, only Melody is no longer beneath Logan. I am.
I clear my throat and drop my gaze to the floor. “I should get home. Dad will ground me if I break curfew.”
It's only eleven-thirty and I don’t have a curfew, but Gunner doesn’t know that. I just want to go home, take a shower, and figure out what I’
m doing before someone gets hurt. i.e.: me.
“Okay, doll face. Let’s go.” Gunner dips his head, pressing his lips to my crown. He looks at me with bedroom eyes and I have a feeling that his definition of taking things slow and mine are completely different. I could maybe consider going a little farther than kissing if I felt something, anything, when we are together but I don’t.
“No. Stay with your friends. It’s not your fault I have an early curfew tonight. I’ll catch an Uber or something.”
“I’ll take you,” Logan slides off the counter. Melody cups Logan’s cheek with one hand, desperate for his attention, but he ignores her and pushes her hand away.
Gunner pulls my hair to the side and sinks his teeth into my neck. My breath hitches, heart racing a little faster as my body reacts to the way his mouth feels against my skin. As thrilled as I am to finally feel something for him, this whole situation seems dirty. Like a show of dominance between two predators. He pulls me tighter against him and chuckles darkly. “Tell me, why would Danika go anywhere with you?”
Logan stares intently, gazed focused on where Gunner’s lips met my skin. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off because I can see this situation getting physical fast. I step forward, out of Gunner’s reach and brush my palm against my neck. “Actually, Logan, that would be great.”
9
Danika
“So, you and Melody are a thing, huh?” I twist the seatbelt between my fingers. Logan hasn’t spoken a word since we left the party ten minutes ago and it’s killing me. I take a ragged breath, forcing my lungs to expand even though it feels like they’re being squeezed by a rubber band.
He grunts and squeezes his steering wheel, the leather making a rubbing sound under his hands. “Yes and no.”
I shift one leg under me and turn in the seat to face him. Even under a blanket of darkness, the air between us is thick. I can’t tell if the tension is from the conversation or because I’m in his car but I ignore it and pretend everything is fine between us. “Care to explain?”
“Not really.”
I shake my head. This isn’t the Logan I used to know. He would never string girls along or show such little respect for someone as to cheat on them. “I need you to try, Logan. I can’t do whatever this is we’re doing anymore if you don’t.”
He looks over at me, and our stares hold for a moment before his gaze finds the road again. We’re almost home, which means any minute this conversation will end. “What is it you think we are, Danika?”
My chin falls to my chest and I exhale a heavy breath. I don’t know what we are, or what I want us to be. My body shakes with nervous trembles. I hug myself, rubbing my arms, and pretend I’m cold so Logan doesn’t see the effect he has on me but of course he notices, and turns on the heat.
We pull into the Harris’ driveway and park beside Cooper’s Jeep. Surprisingly, Logan doesn’t bolt out of the car. He reclines his seat back and stares up at the headliner, brows bunched together. After a long stretch of silence, he says, “I hate Melody.”
“Then why are you with her?”
Logan laces his fingers behind his head and closes his eyes, his shirt stretching across his chest. “We’re not. I’ve never touched Melody, never will, but she’s insisted we were together since sophomore year.”
“Bitch sounds crazy,” I mumble.
Logan chuckles and turns his head. He opens his eyes and even in the dark I can see his pupils have swallowed that beautiful brown again. “She’s a level of crazy that puts Jessica from Love is Blind to shame.”
“You watched that?” I ask, a grin taking over my face.
“Don’t judge me.” He smirks and looks back up at the roof. “Anyway, last year I stopped fighting her on it. She wanted the title without the benefits, fine. I could still hook up with whoever I wanted and she got to say she was my...whatever. It’s never been a problem.”
I tuck my hair behind my ears simply to have something to do with my hands. I still can’t decide if what they’re doing is cheating, but I guess it doesn’t matter so I change the subject. “Does this mean you’re officially done being a jerk? Because I missed you, Logan.”
Logan's silhouette rocks, I think he’s nodding but it’s hard to be sure in the dark. After a few more moments of awkward silence, I reach for the handle but like a shock to the heart his voice short circuits my brain. “I’m sorry. I thought if I made you afraid of me, I could intimidate you into keeping quiet.”
“Oh, Logan.” I exhale loudly, leaning back against the cushion of the seat. “I honestly have no clue what secret it is you think I know, but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone. You should know me better than that.”
“Good. It was killing me being such a jerk to you.” Logan looks down at his hands and fidgets with his car keys. “What do you see in him?”
“Who?”
“Gunner,” he says, his voice rough and gravely. There’s pain in the way he says Gunner’s name, maybe even a little jealousy too but I don’t read into it. The last thing I need is to overanalyze our conversations and start fixating on every detail. Not gonna cross that crazy line.
“He’s cute I guess, and nice.”
Logan snorts. “That fucker is far from nice.”
“Says the man who has been nothing but a jerk to me all week.”
Silence fills the space until he says, “You could do better.”
“With who? You?” My heart’s beating so fast I can barely breathe. How did I get here? How am I in Logan’s car asking a hypothetical question I’m dying to know the answer to. What happens if he says yes? Do I end my thing with Gunner to be with Logan? Will he end his weird arrangement with Melody for me? My head’s spinning, coming up with more questions than I can feasibly answer.
I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly. I’m dancing on that crazy line again. I need to calm down. For all I know, Logan will laugh and play my question off like it’s a joke and we’ll be nothing more than friends, like we used to be. I try to swallow, but the knot in my throat won’t allow it and I choke on my saliva.
The flick of a flame from a lighter illuminates Logan's face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw. The man truly is beautiful. Something inside him is broken, that’s clear as day, but he’s beautiful, nonetheless. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, holding the smoke deep within his lungs. “Maybe, but I’m no good for you.”
10
Danika
I left my phone in Logan’s car. I keep telling myself it was an accident, but subconsciously I don’t think it was. I want to finish our conversation. After Logan’s declaration he bolted, practically running into the house. I stayed in the car for a solid minute, alone in the dark, mulling over one single word.
Maybe.
Standing on the porch of the Harris home, the white wooden door is open behind the screen. Don’t these guys know how dangerous it is to keep your home wide open this time of night? Then again, there are only two cars in the driveway. Maybe they are waiting for Mrs. Harris to get home.
“Logan!” Cooper yells from somewhere inside the house. The hair on the back of my neck stands. There are only so many reasons someone’s voice has that much fear and pain in it at the same time.
None of them are good.
I lean to the left, trying to see if I can peek a little deeper inside the house. Whatever is happening is a family matter. I should leave, but my feet are cemented in place.
Logan runs out of what I assume is his bedroom and stops in the hallway. I have a clear shot from where I stand and even from twenty feet away, I can see the color drain from his face.
“Call 911, Logan. Hurry!” his brother cries. “Don’t do this to me Piper. Come on, baby, stay with me.”
Logan’s still standing in the hallway, frozen. I watch for a solid three seconds, my heart beating so hard against my ribs they’re sure to be bruised, waiting for him to do something to help Cooper, but he’s a statue.
I yank the screen door o
pen and run to where Logan’s stuck, staring. “What’s the—” I can’t get the words out. My heart sinks to my feet. I’ve seen people shot. I’ve seen overdoses of all sorts, but I’ve never seen this. Not in person.
Cooper sits in a puddle of blood, cradling a limp Piper in his lap. Her head falls against his chest, eyes closed. Pajama shorts and a shirt cling to her body, the tips of her dark hair looking like snakes splayed against her fair skin, skin that’s paler than normal.
Cooper visibly shakes, holding onto Piper as if his life depends on it, not hers. A bloody handprint mars the wall from where he reached for the towel that’s pressed against her wrists. Crimson water has spilled onto the floor, staining the porcelain tub red, pooling around him on the ceramic tiles.
Cooper looks up at me with tear stained cheeks. “I don’t know what to do.” He glances down at Piper and kisses the crown of her head, then whispers. “Please don’t leave me.”
“Stay there. You’re doing great,” I assure him. My fight or flight instincts kick in, only I’m not fighting for my life. I’m fighting for Piper’s. My dad’s dinner chatter mixed with a million Grey’s Anatomy episodes come to mind. We can do this. We can save her. “Just keep pressure on the cuts.”
I scan the room, taking in every detail in a fraction of a second. There is a lot of blood. I know the bathtub water makes it look like Piper lost more than she actually did, but it’s such a deep red and there’s just as much on the floor. It’s hard to say if anyone will get here in time, but I keep this to myself. Cooper’s already panicking, whispering prayers of hope into Piper’s ear. Best not to add to his stress.
I step over to Logan. He’s pale faced, wide eyed, just staring.