by Amanda Abram
“Yeah. We.”
“We’re going to a party?”
Logan sighed like he was already tired of this exchange. “Yes. We are going to a party.”
I shook my head adamantly. “No. No way. I’m not going to a party. Especially not with you.”
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and I reveled in the thought I might be giving him a headache. “Emma, do you want to get Matt to fall for you, or what? He likes parties. He likes girls who like parties. He’s going to be there tonight. This is kind of a no-brainer.”
He was right, of course, but I hated parties. Detested them. They were just an excuse for kids to get loud and drunk and grope each other. I shuddered at the thought of having to attend one.
“What else is on your list?” I inquired, leaning closer to him to try and see the screen on his phone.
He was quick to jerk it away. “Sorry, you’re going to have to wait. You’ll find out each one right before we do it. That way, you won’t have time to overthink things and back out.”
“But you’re giving me plenty of time to back out of going to the party, if it’s not until tonight,” I pointed out.
He thought about it for a moment. “True. But you’re not going to back out.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure?”
He gave me a lopsided grin. “The fact I’m not going to let you back out. You bought a couple of hot outfits I know for sure will grab Matt’s attention. And I also know, deep down, you’re curious. You’ve never been to a high school party before, have you?”
The answer to that question was obvious, so I didn’t even bother to respond.
“I figured. So, here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to put on those shorts and that white top you bought earlier, I’m going to knock on your door tonight at seven o’clock sharp, and you’re going to answer it. We’re going to get into my car, and we’re going to that party. End of discussion.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he didn’t want to hear it. “End. Of. Discussion,” he repeated, with a little more emphasis this time. He stood from the bench and motioned for me to follow.
Our little afternoon excursion was over, and it was now time to prepare for our evening one.
I was going to a party. With Logan Reynolds.
I must have been more desperate than I thought.
***
“I’m sorry, you’re going where with whom?” Chloe asked me through the screen of my laptop. She, Sophia and I were once again video chatting while I got ready for the party.
She’d heard me just fine, but I repeated myself anyway. “I’m going to a party with Logan.”
I was inside my closet, changing into the clothes I’d bought earlier, so I didn’t get to see the girls’ faces when I told them the news. Instead, I got to listen to the stunned silence that made me briefly wonder if our connection had been cut off.
“You guys still there?” I called out as I pulled the white halter top over my head, completing the outfit.
“Yeah,” Sophia answered. “We’re just…not sure we heard you correctly. Either time.”
I stepped out of the closet and into the view of the laptop. As soon as Sophia and Chloe saw me, they both gasped.
“Holy bananas, Em,” Chloe said. “What are you wearing?”
Glancing down at myself subconsciously, I said, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Are you planning on Logan getting you pregnant at this party?” Sophia joked, a mischievous grin forming on her face.
My jaw dropped at her question, as the thought of ever doing anything with Logan that could lead to me getting pregnant suddenly made me want to hurl.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Soph?”
Chloe giggled. “It’s a fair question, Em. You look hella hot in that outfit. If those shorts were any shorter, they could pass for denim panties.”
I saw Sophia cringe. “Chloe, you know how I feel about that word.”
Chloe turned to Sophia and said directly into her ear, “Panties. Panties. Panties. Panti—”
Sophia placed a hand over Chloe’s face and shoved her out of view of the webcam. “Seriously, Em, what’s up with that outfit, anyway? And how did you end up getting invited to go to a party with Logan?”
I hadn’t told the girls yet about Logan’s offer to help me get a boyfriend—specifically Matt—and I still wasn’t sure I wanted to. “It’s kind of a long story,” I said, pulling my hair back into a loose ponytail and tying it with an elastic. “I’ll fill you guys in later, I promise. Logan’s going to be here any minute.”
“No,” Chloe said. “Emma, you can’t leave us in suspense like this!”
“Sorry, guys! Got to go! Love you!” I blew them a kiss and disconnected before they could say another word.
I glanced at the alarm clock next to my bed. I had about five minutes before Logan claimed he would be there to pick me up, which meant I probably had closer to twenty to finish getting ready. I figured I would use that time to attempt to put on some makeup.
I wasn’t going to do what Chloe and Sophia referred to as “the works”, which included concealers, toners, foundations and blushes (to be honest, I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to that lesson), and instead decided to go with just eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara—the “eye trifecta”, as the girls often liked to call it.
In less than five minutes, I managed to apply the eyeliner, the shadow, and the mascara. I was pleasantly surprised at the outcome. The makeup made me look older, more mature. Maybe even borderline sexy. The smoky eyes look was the only one I knew how to do because that’s the one Chloe and Sophia had taught me. But it was the only one I needed to know because it looked awesome.
As soon as I stepped out of the bathroom, I heard a knock at the front door. Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I checked the time. He was only two minutes late.
Impressive.
“I’ll get it!” I called out to my parents as I ran down the stairs and threw open the door.
As expected, Logan was standing on the other side, and also as expected, he looked good. Not that it was a surprise. Logan always looked good. I may have hated him, but even I couldn’t dispute that fact. He was wearing a pair of faded light blue jeans and a black Pink Floyd graphic tee that clung nicely to the muscles in his chest and upper arms. His slightly wavy hair was a bit unruly, like he’d just run his hands through it a couple of times to intentionally mess it up.
It had probably taken him less than a minute to get ready, yet he looked like a walking Abercrombie & Fitch advertisement. Why did guys have it so easy?
His eyes widened when I opened the door. He let his gaze slowly travel down the length of my body, lingering on certain areas as he brought his eyes back up to meet with mine. “Whoa, Dawson. Not bad. It actually looks like you put some effort into this.”
My own eyes narrowed into a glare. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment, since I’m sure that’s the best you can do.”
Logan gave me a smirk, but quickly morphed it into a sincere smile when he saw my dad walk up behind me.
“Mr. Dawson,” he said brightly. Pleasantly. “Hello, sir, how are you?”
My dad shook his head. “Logan, how many times do we have to go over this? Start calling me Jake and stop calling me ‘sir’. It makes me feel old.” He shuddered.
“Sorry, Jake,” Logan said with a grin. I couldn’t believe how different he was around my parents than he was around me. It was safe to say Logan adored them as much as they adored him—the unfortunate downside to our dads having been engaged in a lifelong bromance.
I, however, was no different around Logan’s dad, and even his stepmother, Rachel. Mr. Reynolds—or Mark, as he liked me to call him—had always been like a second father to me. And technically, I guess he sort of was, since he was listed as one of my godparents. It was too bad Logan and I didn’t get along, or we’d all be one big, happy family.
“So,�
�� Dad said, glancing between me and Logan. “You’re going to a party together, huh? I didn’t realize you two were friends.”
“We’re not,” Logan and I said at the same time.
We stared at each other, wide-eyed. “Jinx!” we also both said at the same time, after which we proceeded to glare at each other.
Dad chuckled softly. “Ah, you two and your jinxing. Brings back memories of when you were little. You guys used to end up in simultaneous jinxes all the time and it was always so nice to have that reprieve from your constant bickering.”
Logan and I both turned to my dad with pleading eyes. It was childish, but apparently Logan and I still took jinxes very seriously. Dad was right. When Logan and I were kids, we used to somehow manage to jinx each other quite often and nobody would say our names for what seemed like forever. I guess now we knew they’d done that on purpose.
And while I loved the idea of never having to hear Logan speak again, I wanted to be able to talk again at some point. If only I could telepathically ask my father to say my name and not Logan’s…
“Emma, Logan,” Dad said finally, a look of pure amusement on his face, “you are both unjinxed.”
At our release, Logan and I both breathed a sigh of relief at the same time and exchanged a wary glance, as if wondering whether simultaneous sighing was a jinxable offense. With a simultaneous shrug, we silently concluded it was not.
“Logan’s…helping me with something,” I explained, hoping my father wouldn’t press me for specific details.
“At a party?” Dad asked, looking confused. He glanced down at me with a slight frown as he seemed to suddenly take notice of my appearance. “Emma, sweetie, are you going to be warm enough?” This was Dad-speak that loosely translated into, “I see what you’re wearing is quite revealing, but I feel uncomfortable approaching the issue, so I’m going to find a subtle way of making you put more clothes on without coming out and asking you to.”
“Dad, it’s still nearly eighty degrees out. I think I’ll be fine.” To make him feel better, though, I added, “But I’ll go grab a hoodie, just in case.”
“Great idea, honey,” he said with a smile.
I quickly ran upstairs and grabbed the hoodie I knew he’d approve of the most: an over-sized navy-blue zip-up that came down past my shorts.
When I made it back to the foyer with the hoodie in hand, Dad and Logan were so busy laughing about something, neither one had noticed my return.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
Dad slapped Logan on the back and said, “Oh, nothing. You two have fun tonight.”
I didn’t like how chummy they were acting with each other, so I quickly ushered Logan out of the house, saying goodbye to my father as he closed the door behind us.
“It must pay to be a goody-goody,” Logan said as he led me to his car. Surprisingly, he opened the door for me like a gentleman would.
“Why do you say that?” I asked, mentally slapping myself for not giving him crap for calling me a ‘goody-goody’.
“Well, for one, your father is letting you leave the house looking like that.” He motioned to my outfit. “And he’s letting you go to a party. With a guy you’re not even friends with.”
“He trusts me.”
“I know. He trusts you because he knows his precious little girl would never do anything wrong or inappropriate.” He placed a hand on the top edge of the passenger door and leaned in close—too close for my comfort; his face was only a few inches from mine. “Well, tonight, we’re going to break that trust.”
A small smirk began to form on his face as I gaped at him. I did not like the sound of that. At all.
I knew I was making a huge mistake by going to this party with Logan, but I got in the car anyway. And I did so because…well, because I was tired of being thought of as a ‘goody-goody’. I was tired of sitting home alone while my friends had the time of their lives in Florida.
Maybe Logan was right. I needed to start living a little.
Chapter Eleven
LOGAN
Parties. I wasn’t a big fan of them. I knew Emma wasn’t either, which was why I chose to bring her to one. I knew she would feel uncomfortable, awkward and out-of-place, and that’s exactly how I wanted her to feel. Not only because I experienced great pleasure in watching her squirm, but also because I wanted to toughen her up a little bit.
As soon as we walked in, I saw her tense up and freeze in place, like a deer caught in headlights.
This was going to be fun.
I hadn’t shown Emma the list on my phone earlier, because so far, the only thing on that list was this party. I figured I would wait and see how things went before bothering to come up with anything else. I had to know for sure that she was going to be able to step out of her comfort zone without having some sort of monumental panic attack or something.
Absent-mindedly, I reached out my hand and placed it on the small of her back. My sudden touch made her jump.
She turned to look at me and for a split second, I regretted bringing her. She looked almost…scared. Fragile. If we were friends, I would have wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close and whispered into her hair that everything was going to be okay.
But we weren’t. So, I didn’t.
“Hey,” I said, leaning in closer so she could hear me over the music. “There’s no need to freak out, alright? This is just a party with a bunch of kids you go to school with. No big deal.”
She gave me a look that clearly said, “Yeah, right.”
“So, what’s the plan?” she asked, glancing nervously around.
“The plan,” I replied, “is we stay here for a little while. I bring you around to a few people—specifically Matt and his friends—and then we can leave.”
Her eyes widened. “Matt? You’re going to bring me to Matt?”
“Yes, I’m going to bring you to Matt. Why wouldn’t I bring you to Matt? He’s the reason we’re here.”
“But I’m not ready for that,” she said softly.
I threw her a curious look. “You’re not ready for what? To talk to him? I hate to tell you, Emma, but when you start dating him, you’re going to have to talk to him.”
Emma narrowed her eyes at me. “When I start dating him? That’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”
“Not at all. I know what I’m doing.”
She shook her head in disagreement as we began to make our way through the crowd. I grabbed her hand so I wouldn’t lose track of her and she immediately yanked it away. Okay, apparently, she didn’t like to be touched. That would be another thing we’d have to work on.
I was scanning the living room looking for Matt when a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
“Dude!”
I recognized the voice as belonging to the party’s host, Justin Daniels. Justin was one of the most popular guys at our school. Football player. Class President. Last year’s Prom King. And he was also a womanizer. A player. A giant tool. He and I weren’t close, we just ran in the same circles, and had some of the same friends. I never made it a habit to hang out with him, because for the most part, he sucked.
“Hey, man,” I said. “Nice party.” That’s how our conversations usually went: three or four words each and we were done.
“Thanks,” he said with a grin. His gaze flickered over to Emma and something changed in his expression. And whatever it was, I didn’t like it.
Instinctively, I moved to block her from his view, but he gave me a playful shove, moving me out of the way.
“Emma Dawson, is that you?”
“Yeah,” she answered in a voice so small, it could barely be heard over the music.
“Wow.” He blatantly began to check her out, his eyes lowering to her chest and staying there for a moment before taking in the rest of her. I was surprised he didn’t ask her to turn around for him, so he could check out her ass too. “Damn, girl, you look good.”
Her face grew pink at his compliment. “Thank you.�
�
Justin briefly returned his attention to me. “Heads up, bro. Your girl is making her way over here and she looks pissed.”
I groaned. ‘My girl’ was Grace. I knew she would be at the party—she was at all the parties—but I guess I hadn’t given any thought to the fact I’d have to face her. Or maybe I knew I’d have to face her, but I felt it was safer to do so in a crowded area. Where there were plenty of witnesses.
“Logan,” I heard her voice call out behind me. I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly, holding my breath until I began to see stars.
After counting to five, I turned around and found myself face-to-face with my sometimes-girlfriend.
She looked hot. Hotter than usual. Maybe it was the fact I hadn’t seen or talked to her in a few days. Or maybe it was the fact she knew I would be at this party and she wanted to make sure to look her best so she could seduce me into being “on-again” with her. Either way, her appearance instantly made me forget the reason I was there in the first place.
“Hey, Grace,” I said casually. I couldn’t let on that I was aware she was angry. It was best to pretend like I hadn’t done anything wrong. Otherwise, she would smell my fear and use it against me.
She stopped about a foot away and put her hands on her hips. She glared up at me and said, “Logan, where the hell have you been? Why haven’t you been answering any of my calls or texts?”
She was incredibly sexy when she was angry. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy?” she echoed. She flipped her hair over her shoulder—something she often did right before she attacked. “Doing what?” Her gaze flickered over my shoulder. “And what are you doing here?”
It took me a second to realize she was talking to Emma. I’d almost forgotten she was still there, standing silently behind me, probably wanting to crawl into a hole somewhere.
Emma’s eyes widened and opened her mouth as if to respond, but Grace didn’t give her the opportunity.
Returning her full attention to me, Grace said, “Did you come here with her?” She thrust an accusatory finger in Emma’s direction.