by Bailey B
‘Listen here, you little—” Melody doesn’t finish her sentence. The movement of a silhouette catches her eye and she immediately rearranges the snarl on her face into a smile.
Of all the people in this tiny town and all the stores in the mall, Logan Harris walks into this one. Perfect.
“Oh. Em. Gee. Logan!” Melody squeals in her over the top, fake voice. “What are you doing here?”
My whole body tenses as Logan draws near. He’s ignored me all week but hasn’t gone out of his way to avoid me like before. In fact, it’s the opposite. I see him everywhere, each time locked onto a different set of lips. The kisses are always hungry, with roaming hands. My cheeks heat just thinking about them.
Logan ignores Melody and walks past us like we don’t exist, heading straight for the clerk’s counter. He and the sales lady have a quiet conversation before the woman disappears into the back. She returns with a bag, probably holding a pre-order purse, and he hands the woman his credit card.
Obviously frustrated that nothing in this store is going her way, Melody turns her attention back to me. “That’s a pretty necklace, Danika. Are you going to buy it?”
Without bothering to look at the tag, I put the necklace back on the display. This wannabe boutique is overpriced and way out of my league. Even if the necklace is beautiful, I don’t have the money to waste on it. “No.”
Melody arches her brows at me, her lips curling into a sinister smirk. “Why? Is it too expensive for you? Maybe the thrift store down the block is more your speed.”
“Anyway,” Sarah interrupts, stepping between me and Melody, using her body as a shield against Melody’s harsh words. “We should probably get going. If we’re going to make it down to West Palm before rush hour hits.”
Melody juts out her bottom lip, fake pouting. “Awe, is pretty little Danika too good to watch her boyfriend play football tonight?”
I hate this bitch. If I was a lesser woman, I’d fire back and spit more nastiness in the air than Melody would know what to do with. But I was raised better, and this is a testament to Melody’s character, not mine. Instead, I tuck my long chocolate strands behind my ear and say, “Gunner is not my boyfriend.”
“Of course he’s not,” She smirks triumphantly. “He doesn’t do monogamy or have you not realized that yet?”
A blanket of heat covers my skin, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck react to Logan’s proximity. I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of his cologne, letting myself get carried away by how heavenly it is.
“You’re not coming tonight?” He asks from behind me, his voice devoid of emotion, because he couldn’t care less what I do anymore. “You used to go to all of my games.”
“You used to be a better friend.”
“Um.” Melody crosses her arms. She glares, likely trying to figure out what’s happening between Logan and me. It seems like most people forgot that we have history. I would to by the way he treats me.
Melody points her manicured finger between Logan and me. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”
“No,” Logan growls. He turns and walks away but not before bumping his shoulder against mine as he passes.
17
Danika
The doorbell sings its melodic tune and my stomach twists. When Dad asked who I was going to the homecoming dance with tonight, I told him the truth. Gunner asked me in the most epic of ways, and even though I don’t feel much for him I couldn’t say no. Dad, of course, still wants to pull the whole protective father act. If he had friends and guns, they'd be here ready to intimidate. But he has no friends, I have no boyfriend, and when it comes down to it, we both know there’s nothing to worry about tonight.
All of this considered, the thought of Gunner waiting outside my door with a corsage in his hand still sends my pulse racing. My last boyfriend refused to go to school functions. It was his pathetic attempt to rebel against his parents. All the other dances, I went stag with a group of friends. While my date might not be my first choice, I’m still excited to experience tonight.
I rush down the stairs, my royal blue Converse sneakers paired to match my dress. I can’t walk in heels to save my life, let alone dance in them. Unlike Sarah, and probably every other girl tonight, I want to enjoy myself. Not complain about my feet and end up barefoot.
Dad, of course, is waiting like a snake in the grass to attack and beats me to the door. His broad frame fills the doorway, blocking any chance for me to see if Gunner has gone for the full blazer and tie look, or a simple button down.
“You must be Gunner,” Dad’s voice is deeper than normal. I roll my eyes at his attempt to intimidate. Dad may be a large man, but he’s a big softie.
“No, sir.”
My heart pounds in my chest, making me lightheaded as I try to figure out what Logan is doing at my door. I stand on my tip-toes, barely catching a glimpse of his dark hair over my dad’s shoulder. Dad’s arm extends as he shakes Logan’s hand, giving him what I’m sure is a death grip to establish dominance. Men.
“I’m your neighbor, Logan,” he says, hesitantly. They exchange a few hushed whispers then Logan asks, “Is Danika still here? I have something for her.”
With a small sigh, my dad steps to the side and sits on the couch. Logan comes inside and looks around. There’s no judgement in his eyes, but that doesn’t make me any less insecure about where we live. Our home is much simpler than most in the neighborhood, which makes sense if this was meant to be a guest house.
Where Logan’s house is a modern two-story U-shaped design built around an enclosed pool, mine is one big open square. The living-room dining-room combo and kitchen are what you see as soon as you walk through the door. We also have a laundry room and a bathroom down here with two bathrooms and two bedrooms upstairs. For the average person, this is a nice place. When you compare it to the others in the neighborhood, we’re practically living in a shack.
Logan takes me in from head to toe, gaze stopping on my shoes for a beat, a small smile tugging at his lips, before finding my face again. “That doesn’t look like anything our mall sells.”
I twist my hips, letting the drop-waist skirt of my thigh-length A-line dress sway. Of all the dresses in my closet, this one is my favorite. “I’ll take that as a compliment. You know, you’re supposed to be going to a dance tonight and not a funeral. Right?”
Logan smirks and shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. We stand there in silence, the tension in the air building between us. Logan looks good, really good, in his black slacks and matching long-sleeved button-down shirt. I reach out and touch his tie, my fingers slipping down the smooth satin. “We match.”
“I… uh... got you something,” he stammers, pulling a small white box from his pocket.
I look at Logan, my brows pushed together in confusion, as he lifts the lid, exposing the gold necklace with a teardrop gem I was looking at yesterday. “How did you…”
“I saw you put it back on the display before Melody became a raging cunt,” he says, handing me the box.
The necklace is even prettier than I remember. The thin gold chain, which I’m hoping is fake, is eighteen-inches long with a teardrop sapphire at the end. Considering how expensive everything in that store was, I’m hoping the stone is overpriced costume jewelry and not a real gemstone. That would be too much.
“But when?” I feel like an idiot and should probably say thank you, but no one’s ever given me jewelry before. Everything I own is the five-dollar costume stuff.
“After you left with Sarah.” He shrugs again. “It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? Logan, this is huge! Thank you.” I throw my arms around his neck. Logan drives me crazy and I hate him half the time, but I love that even though we aren’t what we used to be, he’s trying. In his weird Logany way, he’s trying.
Logan’s arms wrap around my waist, squeezing me tight against him. I look up into his brown eyes, noticing for the first time the green ring around his irises and the gold bi
ts in them that look like lightning.
All the fluttery, jittery, flippy emotions my head has been fighting the past few weeks win and I have the sudden urge to kiss him again. I know it’s wrong. Gunner is on his way, in the limo he refused to let me chip in on, and here I am pining over Logan. I’m going to hell.
I slide my hand up Logan’s neck, brushing my thumb against his cheek. I swipe my tongue against my lips, hoping he’ll get the hint. After all, this is Logan Harris, notorious womanizer. If he can’t read my neon sign, I’m going to suggest he start wearing his glasses again.
Just as I see a glimmer of understanding cross Logan’s face, my dad clears his throat reminding me that we aren’t alone. Hiding my disappointment, I tuck my hair behind my ears and take a step back. “Can you help me put it on?”
Logan silently nods. I hand him the box and turn. The pillows of his fingers drift across my neck as he sweeps my hair to one side. I shiver and grab my long locks, twisting the curls simply to force my mind to focus on something besides the way I react to him.
“Done,” Logan whispers.
Thank God I’m not in heels because the deep, gravelly voice of his would have knocked me on my ass. Logan’s fingers skate across the back of my neck, drifting to my collarbone. I stand, still as a statue, until the warmth of his lips press against the crook of my neck. I gasp and look over my shoulder. He tilts his head, waiting for me to signal again that it’s okay to kiss me when a horn honks outside.
Beep! Beep!
Logan takes a step back and exhales the same moment I do. The guilt I felt on the football field washes over me like a tidal wave. I’m drowning in regret because I wish Logan was my date tonight and not Gunner. Too bad I already made my bed, now I have to lie in it. “You should come with us.”
“Nah,” Logan says, running a hand through his intentionally disheveled hair. He’s got that sexy just-been-fucked look and I have to force myself not to wonder what it actually looks like after sex. “I don’t like not having my car.”
“Isn’t half the fun of a dance getting drunk and not having to worry about driving?” Not that I have any intention of getting drunk tonight. I’m sure there will be beer or something in the limo and probably more at the after party. I just don’t plan on having more than two drinks tonight.
Logan leans against the door and crosses his arms, pulling his shirt tight across his chest. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to a dance before.”
Damn he’s hot. How is it humanly possible for one person to look this good?
“Why are you going to this one?” I step around him, pushing the curtain aside to peer out the window. Our time is running out. The back passenger door of the stretch limo opens and Gunner steps out. He looks good in his tailored suit that probably costs twice as much as my dad’s car payment, but Logan looks better. “Do you have a date?”
Logan takes my hand and nervous tingles climb my arm. I turn my gaze to him, letting myself get lost in his eyes that I swear just twinkled. He brings my palm to his lips, kissing the tender spot beneath my thumb. “No, but someone made it known that I’ve been a shitty friend. I’m going for you, Danika, just in case something happens.”
“It’s a school dance. How much trouble can I get into?”
Logan chuckles darkly, and I can't help but wonder if he knows something I don't. “Guess we’ll find out.”
18
Logan
I think St. A’s has every dance at the Horizon Hotel. I thought I heard once that someone’s aunt or something owns the place and gives us a discount or whatever. I don’t actually know because the line I gave Danika about not having been to a dance wasn’t bullshit.
I’ve never had a girlfriend, never wanted one, so the desire to go to one of these functions was nonexistent. But I’d go to the ends of the Earth for Danika. I may have avoided her and been a tool the past few weeks, but that’s only because I hate seeing her and Gunner together. I’ve tried to push her from my mind, replace her with everyone I could sink my teeth in.
They always felt wrong.
Their hands don’t set my skin on fire. Their lips never tasted right. And when they’d reach for my cock, I’d pull away. Danika was the last girl to touch me. I don’t want anyone to erase what that felt like. But having someone, anyone, in my arms when the urge to hold Danika takes over is better than no one.
Danika leaves the safety of the rented ballroom and finds me outside, sitting on the railing that separates the beach from the hotel. I pull a cigarette from my shirt pocket and tuck it between my lips. I have no intention of lighting it but chewing on the filter helps silence the incessant chatter in my head.
“I was wondering when you’d get here.” Her tiny fingers grip the skirt of her dress so it doesn’t fly in the breeze. I wish it would. I’d love to see her perky ass. I’m sure my imagination isn’t doing it justice.
“Didn’t think you’d notice the way Gunner is all over you.”
Scratch that, I think I will light the damn thing. Thinking about Gunner with his hands roaming Danika’s backside, settling on that ass while she does nothing but shake her head and giggle, ignites my nerves into a flaming inferno.
I flick the spinner of my lighter and shield my cigarette with my free hand. When the cherry burns red, I inhale, letting the sting of smoke chip away at my soul. “Seems like you two are getting serious. He can’t keep his hands off you.”
“He’s been ridiculously clingy.” Danika rolls her lined eyes, butterfly lashes fluttering. “But I think I’m finally willing to admit there’s nothing between Gunner and me.”
“You thought there was?” I ask on an exhale, immediately taking another drag. The cigarette is helping. A drink would be better, but my flask is empty and beggars can’t be choosers.
“No, but I wanted there to be.”
“And why’s that?” I hold the smoke a little longer than usual. My lungs burn, begging me to give them clean air but I need the cloud in my chest to set fire to my feelings and make them go away. I had my chance, in the cafeteria once, and I blew it. Case and point by our lack of kiss today.
“Because I was using him to forget about you,” she half whispers.
What? I choke on the smoke in my lungs and release it with a coughing fit. My eyes water as I beat my fist against my chest. When my alveoli open again, Danika’s disappeared back into the ballroom.
I drop what’s left of my cigarette on the ground and head into the dance. I’ve never chased after a girl before—literally or metaphorically—so tonight is a night of firsts. But I’ve also never met someone who drives me crazy the way Danika does.
“I don’t want to,” Danika says, her back to me, arms crossed.
“Come on, babe,” Gunner replies in his slickest of voices. “It’s got the best view. You’ll love it up there.”
“Look, I’m sorry if I’ve led you on, but I’m not going up to your room.”
Gunner puts his hand on Danika’s lower back and escorts her towards the refreshment table. She digs her heels into the ground, trying her best not to cause a scene and still hold her ground. “Let’s get a drink. Dance some more. We’ll talk about it later.”
“Dani!” I shout, jogging across the dance floor. She looks over her shoulder at me, eyebrows pushed together in confusion at the faux-panic in my voice. “Hey, I’m glad I found you. Your dad called; said he couldn’t get a hold of you. Something’s wrong with your cat. You’ve got to get home.”
“My cat?” She asks, scanning my face for clarification. I lift my eyebrows and nod, hoping she’ll catch on. Something clicks and she covers her mouth with her hands. “Mr. Scratchems? Oh, my goodness.” She turns to Gunner and rests her hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Gunner, but I have to go. Logan, can you give me a ride?”
“Yeah, of course.” I link my fingers with Danika’s and pull her away from that prick. We dart across the ballroom and out the double sliding doors of the hotel. Adrenaline courses through my veins, pumping with th
e same ferocity as it does in a fight.
When we reach my car, Danika leans against the black paint and giggles. “Really? My cat? You know I’m allergic.”
I shrug and reach for another cigarette. My heart is pounding in my chest, harder than it usually does when Danika is around. Thank fuck I stuck two in my pocket. I don’t light this one. Instead I let it hang between my lips and swing my keys on my middle finger. “I need to tell you something.”
Danika kicks one foot up against my door and looks up at the stars. “Oh, mercy. What now?”
If she were anyone else, I’d tell her to get her shoe off my car. But this girl… she could get away with murder. “Gunner had a running bet that he could get you up to his room and fuck you. I overheard some guys in the locker room talking about it after the game last night.”
Danika turns her head to look at me, eyes wide. Her lips part, a question hanging on the edge of them she’s not willing to ask. I hate that I caused her pain. Technically, Gunner is the one making her cry, but delivering the news hurts me almost as much as it hurts her.
“And Jake spiked the punch, which is why Gunner wanted you to have another drink.”
“So that’s why you came,” Danika whispers, her gaze falling to her shoes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, likely trying to bite back the wetness pooling in her eyes.
I step in front of her, my feet on either side of those royal blue Converse and lift her chin with two fingers. My heart thumps in my chest, my body vibrating in rhythm with each pulsating beat. Her big brown eyes look up at me, filled with water after the first round of tears trail down her cheek. She sniffles, fighting to keep control of her emotions.
I’m fighting too, only my battle is completely different. Danika’s not just the first girl I’ve felt a connection with, she’s the first person. Period. All my life I’ve been an outsider in my own home. The buy-one-get-one-free kid my parents never really wanted. The punching bag when dad got drunk. The one left behind and forgotten on more than one occasion. The embarrassment with a stutter. And always, always in Cooper’s fucking shadow. But when I’m with Danika, everything fades to black.