by Dakota Lee
“I know.”
She hurries down the path, disappearing around the corner, and even though she can no longer hear me; I admit she should hate me. Knowing that, acknowledging that, doesn’t mean I’m not dying to have her with me.
* * *
I stalk back towards the party. I can’t make her listen, and my words will never be enough to prove to her just how sorry I am. But I can fix this mess I’ve created. Will’s in the corner with a girl who looks barely coherent. I grab him by the shirt and order her to leave.
“What’s your problem, man?”
“Jordanna. What did you do?”
“What did she say I did?” He asks, lips stretching into a mocking smile. “Oh wait, she didn’t say anything, because she doesn’t kiss and tell.” He laughs to himself. “All those months no one knew what was hiding behind that sweet exterior. Until you shared those photos.” He’s sips his drink slowly through a swizzle straw, knowing he has my attention. “But let’s just say, we were all over each other until we were interrupted.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I? You mean the two of you never got into it at a party? You were never so hot for her that you couldn’t wait to slip between her thighs?”
I shove him against the wall, pressing my forearm against his neck. “Careful what you say next.”
Smirking at me, he says, “My, my, my, you’re pretty testy. Over a girl.”
“Jordanna is off limits.”
“Would now be a good time to mention I don’t care?”
“Sure, it you think it’s a good time to mention your daddy’s profile might take a little tumble if you go near her again.” His smile disappears and my hold against his neck tightens. “Oh yeah. I know all about that. Stay away from her.”
“That’s a hard ask. The way she fights, and screams…”
I lose it then, slamming my fist into his face. The crunch of his nose isn’t enough so I do it again and again.
“Logan…” I shrug off the hand that’s landed on my shoulder. “Buddy, people are watching.” Hal says, trying to get me to calm down.
“I don’t give a fuck.”
Staring down at Will, I see I’ve damn near rearranged the bone structure in his face. “If I catch you anywhere near her I won’t stop until you’re eating through a tube.”
I let go watching him sag against the wall. Hal’s right on my heels as I walk towards the door. “Logan, that was stupid.”
So was agreeing to that bet and trying to convince myself I could handle pushing Jordanna away.
Thirteen
Jordanna
I’m ready to ditch class the moment I see there’s been a change in seating arrangements. I’ve enjoyed this month in the back of the room, away from Logan’s cold, dead eyes. Now he’s sitting in Gredin’s chair.
“Don’t worry. I’m not sitting here today, I just wanted a second to talk to you.”
Dropping my bag at my feet, with an aggravated huff, I slide onto my stool. He can talk, that doesn’t mean I have to respond.
“You were right about my behavior influencing the ideas people may have about you, and I’m sorry.”
I remain quiet while I set my up my canvas, placing my brushes on the lip of the easel. If he thought I’d disagree with him, he’s wrong.
“I can’t change what I did, Jordy, but I want you to know, that no one is going to do what Will tried ever again. I’ll make sure of that.”
Three showers that night, and I still thought I smelled his breath in my hair. A sudden pressure on my hand jolts me back to the present. When did Logan move close enough to touch me? He’s rubbing circles on the inside of my wrist with his thumb. “Are you okay?”
Pulling my hand from his grasp, I bite out, “I don’t need your fake concern. You can go back to your seat now.”
I’m relieved when he listens, but it takes a considerable amount of effort to focus enough to paint.
For four days I’ve been pretending to be fine, because I can’t give anyone else any more reasons to think I’m weak. But, I’m not fine. Walking through campus alone, I’m peering into shadows, worried that Will or someone else will come up to me and try to take advantage of me again. Pepper told me to use my femininity and sexuality, but all I want to do is hide it away.
All day today, I’ve heard Logan’s voice in my head telling me I should embrace what scares me, and that I can’t let this hinder me. There’s only one way I know to do that. Pulling out my cell, I call a cab, and twenty minutes later I’m stabbing at the buzzer to his studio.
“Yeah?” The intercom distorts his voice, making him sound like a robot. I guess in a way he is, since he has no feelings.
“It’s Jordanna.”
The door buzzes, and I yank on the handle before I have a chance to change my mind about being here.
I take calming breathes as I roll the gate up after the elevator stops on his floor. I walk forward, ignoring the hollow feeling in my stomach. He’s standing in the doorway wearing ripped jeans and a wife beater. His feet are bare and there're splotches of clay on his arms.
His eyes settle on my satchel before meeting mine. “I didn’t wanna go to the studio on campus alone. I know I have no right to ask, but would you mind if I-”
He steps aside, letting me in. The door closes behind us with a soft click. I watch as he drags an easel to the center of the floor and places a stool in front of it. I let him help me out of my coat, and when I sit in front of the canvas, I’m ready to paint. I need to paint, so I can forget about what happened.
I flood my ears with music and let the anger, the fear, the confusion pour out of me, taking life through my painting. I move on to another canvas, and then another. By the time I’m done, there are four of them. At some point, Logan picked them up from the floor and set them against the wall to dry.
It’s not enough. Looking around, I need something else to exorcise this anger and paralyzing fear from my mind. I walk across the studio towards Logan, snatching a knife off the table. He eyes me warily, but makes no move to stop me when I point the sharp blade in his direction. I back away toward the paintings I’ve just made and I rip into them, slashing and shredding, like a woman possessed. Destroying what I’ve taken time to create because that’s how I feel. Destroyed. Gutted. Torn to shreds.
When I’m done, my voice is horse, and I realize it’s because I’ve been screaming. Logan comes over, wrapping his arms around me, forcing the blade from my hand. My knees buckle and he lifts me, carrying me over to the bed, sitting me in his lap.
“This is all your fault.” I yell, pummeling his chest.
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
He sits there taking my punches, just holding me. Taking my words of hate.
“How can I fix this?”
“You can’t.” I want him to hurt the way he hurt me. That’s the only thing that will help. His hands reach under my shirt, caressing my back. Slowly my sobs turn to hiccups, and I become aware that there’s something else lingering under the anger and the hurt. It’s lust. Desire.
His hand grips my hip and I can tell he feels it, too. I know it’s going to happen before he makes a move and I do nothing to stop him from kissing me. Use it, Pepper said. My hands reach up, gripping his hair as I suck on his tongue. The hand he has on my thigh moves to my breasts, palming and squeezing it. I moan into his mouth, my body responding by pressing against his hand. It feels good to be touched by him. I slip my leg over his, straddling him. Rocking against the bulge in his pants.
Logan shifts us and I’m falling backwards. My back hits the mattress, and he settles between my parted thighs. We continue to kiss, our hips rolling together. It’s not enough, and he seems to know it. His hand is in my pants, pressing against the damp triangle of my panties. He kisses the shell of my ear as I rock against his hand. I whimper when I feel his finger slide through my damp folds. I know it’s wrong. I shouldn’t let him do this. I have to stop him before this heat between us eclipses ev
erything else. My hand reaches down to push him away. But he’s not having that. He pulls it over my head, holding both wrists in his, and slips a finger inside me.
This is what Will said, that I like to fight and pretend, but wasn’t he wrong? And if so, why am I getting wetter, being restrained by Logan?
“That’s it Jordy, let me make you feel good.” He’s two fingers in, knuckles deep. “Do you hate me so much that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have my face buried between your legs? Cause I’m dying for a taste. Do you want me to suck on this sweet pussy?,” he asks against my ear.
My head shakes no, but my body arches into his touch.
“And what about when I fucked you? Is the hate you feel strong enough to wipe out the memory of how deep I was inside you? Making you so sore you felt me days later?” I buck against his hand. Getting closer. “Can hate overcome the way you’re responding to me right now?”
It should, but it doesn’t. I want him to finish me. I want this release.
“That’s it, Jordy. I want you to cum around my fingers, and then you’re gonna cum around my cock.”
His thumb presses against my clit causing me to spasm around his fingers. My walls clamp down trying to pull them in further. The cry I was holding back breaks free as I convulse against him riding his fingers until the last shock recedes. The bed dips as he shifts to his side, releasing my wrists. When I open my eyes, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in his hand.
My blood freezes in my veins, and I sit up slowly, eyeing the offending device. “What the hell did you just do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Yeah, sure. You just happen to have a phone with a camera in your hand?” I yell, scrambling off the bed.
He frowns glancing over at me. “Jordanna, don’t overreact.”
“What was I thinking? God, I know I can’t trust you. But at least this time, you’re doing it in my face, right?”
“Are you freaking out because I have my phone, or because I just made you cum all over my hand?”
“It’ll never happen again, and if I find pictures of me anywhere, I’ll sue your ass.”
“I didn’t take any fucking pictures!”
“I don’t believe you!”
He stands too, thrusting his phone at me. “Check for yourself, and when you’re done, take those goddamn clothes off and get back on the bed.”
“Are you shitting me? I’m not sleeping with you, and just because I let you touch me doesn’t mean I owe you sex.”
He nods, stepping closer. “You’re right. You don’t owe me. But you want me and I sure as fuck wanna bury my cock inside you. Now get your ass on the goddamn bed Jordy, so I can finish what I started.”
He’s got to be high if he thinks I’ll do anything he says. “I’m good, thanks.”
“I’m not good, Jordanna. I want to fuck. So stop playing games.”
I feel better now. I’m clearer headed, and those emotions the lust numbed are back with a vengeance. “You wanna fuck go find one of your little playthings at The Rift.”
Snatching my things off the floor, and my coat from the hook by the door, I step into the hallway, wishing he had a normal door that I could slam hard enough to make the rafters shake. I didn’t scroll through his phone to see if he took a picture. I didn’t have to, to know his ass is up to something. The messages between him and Bella were still up on his notification screen.
* * *
She’s nobody. Just here to scratch an itch.
The blowjob will have to wait. Meet us at the cafe in a hr
Fourteen
Logan
I’m an idiot. I was so focused on proving to Jordanna that I wasn’t taking pictures of her that I forgot to close out the chat message with Bella. I’m not about to share my business with her and give her any more reasons to come after Jordanna, so I told her I was with some random chick from one of my classes.
That lie is just one more obstacle I’ll have to overcome trying to win Jordanna back. My phone buzzes with a status update on Prospectus. One’s from Noel mentioning an art exhibit in the city. Of course he tags Jordanna, and she responds with heart eye emojis.
I saw the posting for the trip and dismissed it. But if Jordanna’s going, I’m going too. There’s no fucking way I’m letting her run loose in New York City with Noel. When I go to the website and click on the sign-up sheet, I get a message that all the slots are booked. We’ll just have to see about that. I scroll through the list of names, trying to find someone I can boot. My good buddy Montanna. Yeah, he can sit this one out. Because I don’t want him anywhere near her either.
* * *
As I expected, Montanna puts up a fight about canceling his trip. “Man, there’s gonna be some prime drinking and ass-having on this trip. Why would I back out?”
“Because it’s booked and I need the slot.”
“Isn’t there someone else you can ask to stay behind?”
“Let’s get something straight, Monty. I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. And you’re more than happy to comply because I haven’t come after you for that job you pulled for Bella.” He pales and stammers the beginning of an apology, and I cut off whatever excuse he’s about to give. “I hope whatever she promised you was worth it.” I know Bella, and I know it wasn’t.
“She never paid up.”
Of course she didn’t. If there’s an escape route, she takes it every time. “So you did the job, didn’t get what you wanted for doing the job, and you still have to deal with me. And I guarantee you’re not gonna like what I come up with as retribution.”
“If I skip the trip, we’ll be even?”
“Don’t be stupid. But this will buy you more time before I focus on finding creative ways to make you pay.”
He nods, pulling out his phone to cancel his reservation for the trip, knowing this is as close to a pass as he’s gonna get.
“What’s up Tabby?” I ask, letting her into the studio.
“You’ve been MIA for a few days, so I came to get proof of life to send to your father.”
“Lemme guess, he called you when I didn’t show up at the club on Sunday.”
She drops her bag by the door and goes to the fridge. “He texted my mom, and she called me, when she was in the middle of something that sounded a lot like a waxing.” She comes back with a beer and shrugs. “Or she could’ve been banging the pool boy. Sometimes they sound the same.”
“You sure it wasn’t your dad?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. He’s on the other end of the globe. And, that was one time, which we all regret.” Wiggling her brows, she says, “Maybe it was your dad, and the text was an elaborate rouse to cover their tracks.”
I grab my beer off the floor with one hand and toss a food menu at her with the other. “If it were my dad, she wouldn’t have been able to talk.”
She grimaces at that alternative. I don’t blame her. The memory of our parents going at it is an uncomfortable visual for both of us.
“Did you want to do something after the ribbon cutting ceremony for the new auditorium?” She asks, changing the subject.
Our high school has built a second event center. There was nothing wrong with the first one, but someone donated a lot of money and decided they’d like their name on the side of a building.
“I’m gonna take a pass on that.”
“You’re not going?”
“I hate that I’m going to miss it, but I signed up for the trip to New York that weekend.”
She pulls a face and says, “Oh, I can tell you’re so broken up about it. Seriously though, you don’t usually jump on the school trips. What’s happening with this one?”
“Nothing. I was looking for an excuse to skip going home and this turned out to be it.”
“I can’t stay.” She finishes her beer, passing the menu back to me. “I hope whatever you’re working on is worth it.”
Tabby never ceases to amaze me with her powers of perception. I don�
�t acknowledge her insinuation and instead promise to meet up with her for breakfast in the morning. I’m secretly hoping the effort I’m about to put in with Jordanna is worth it too.
She’s blocked me on Prospectus, but since I’m an owner and admin, I can get around it. We left things unfinished, and it’s time to make sure she’s spending as much time thinking about me as I do thinking about her.
Jordanna
Here’s the thing about watching people. No matter how much you do it, how much you tell yourself you’ve seen enough, there’s always the urge to see more.
Hal is a fascinating subject to watch and to be honest he’s the one I thought I’d have to be most patient with to uncover his secrets. Everyone knows he parties hard, drinks like a fish, and ingests whatever will get him to an altered state of consciousness. But I’ve stumbled across something no one else knows. Not even his friends.
Unfortunately his thing means, I have to confront my own. I guess I owe the BP’s a thanks. They’re the reason I can walk in here without lying, because the return of my panic attacks is a very real and valid issue that needs to be addressed.
The therapist looks at me, waiting for me to speak. It takes everything in me to open my mouth and say the words. I hate talking like this, even more so when it’s in a group setting.
“Jordanna, this is a safe space. These are your peers.”
“I know it’s supposed to be, but the truth is, when I look around all I see are the faces of the people who hurt me.”
Dr. Chan does this thing with his eyes. Questioning me without trying to read too much into my answer. “Not physically, but emotionally. They were cruel, and now whenever I get in a group and the voices get louder, I feel like I’m sinking to the bottom of the ocean.”
“We’ve discussed before about swimming to the surface.”