“I don’t have the time nor the crayons to explain to you just how wrong you are. So maybe you should just step aside and let me leave,” I said in a clipped voice.
He took one step to the side, the grin still firmly plastered on his face. He was driving me absolutely bat-shit insane. Everything about him annoyed me, but I was mostly angry because of my conflicting feelings. Sure, I wanted to slap the shit out of him, but there was also a part of me that actually wanted to keep arguing with him. Whether that was for the sake of the migrant kids or for the way it made me feel down below, I couldn’t be sure.
“All right,” he said, raising his hands in defeat. “Just wanted to say, if you ever want to discuss something else, I’m here. I enjoy a heated discussion. Most people are too afraid to argue anything because they don’t want to rock the boat.”
“Only it’s not just a discussion, you know,” I said, my eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “With what we were talking about earlier—there are real kid’s lives on the line. Those children are suffering. They’ve been forced to leave their home country to escape horrible things, and you basically just convinced an entire classroom of people not to help them.”
I looked at his face again, and I was surprised to find regret etched into his features. He actually looked like he was thinking about what I’d said, as if he was finally considering my opinion as well as his own.
He let out a sigh.
“Look,” he said. “I didn’t want to get into a whole argument about this in front of everyone, but I’m not as big of an ass as you think. It’s not that I think the kids don’t deserve help. It’s just that I know one of the girls who runs a Facebook page for the migrants. She’s raising money for all the migrant kids and babies, or so she says. I know her personally and I can tell you for sure that the migrants aren’t going to see a cent of that money. She’s actually going to use it to sue her baby-daddy. That’s why I think people should donate their money to official causes instead, so they know people who actually need the money will get it in the end. That’s all I really meant.”
My eyes widened as he kept on talking, explaining everything that was wrong with soliciting donations on Facebook. He actually had a solid point, and after some time had passed, I started to feel like a total bitch for yelling at him in front of everyone in our class. I’d misinterpreted what he originally meant, and I was a damned fool.
“So as you said earlier, the best thing to do would be to gather actual resources instead of money,” he said. “I just don’t think we have the right solution yet. We’d need regular, inexpensive transportation to Europe to get those goods to them, but right now it’s expensive as hell to ship things overseas, and the average person doesn’t want to do that. So until someone sets that up, our hands are basically tied. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Like most people, I usually didn’t like admitting I was wrong, but the guy was right.
“Still think I’m a douchebag?” he asked, grinning at me. I rolled my eyes in response, a hint of a smile on my lips. “Anyway, I was serious about the discussion thing. You actually might be a good fit for the debate club.”
“You’re in the debate club?” I asked, barely able to suppress a giggle. This guy did not look like he frequented any clubs other than nightclubs, or perhaps the occasional strip club with his frat buddies.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh away.” It was his turn to roll his eyes now. “I have to be in it for my degree.”
We looked at each other one more time, this time with tentative smiles on our faces. I could feel myself blushing again, but this time it wasn’t because I was angry.
Maybe he was a nice guy after all.
“What’s your name, then?” he asked, sounding genuinely interested. “I know it says Sasha on your Matcher profile, but who knows—people always use fake names on those kinda things.”
“It really is Sasha.” I pushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear, feeling self-conscious. “What about you? It just says L.R. on yours.”
“I’m Logan.” He stuck his hand out and we shook awkwardly. His eyes were glued to mine, and once again, I was hot in places which I’d rather not have been aware of while I was on campus. “Well, Sasha. I guess I’ll see you around, then.”
“Not if I see you first,” I said cheekily. The words just spilled out; something my Dad and I used to say to jokingly insult each other. Embarrassed, I bit my lower lip, expecting to see a confused expression cloud Logan’s face, but instead, he grinned at me. I guess he had a sense of humor too.
He waved at me, and I couldn’t help but stare at his powerful biceps as he left, opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water. God, I was practically drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs.
Only seconds later, I realized I was all alone in the lecture theatre, and I hurried outside, my eyes glued to the floor of the hallway. If anyone looked closer, they wouldn’t be able to miss the smile on my lips, although I’d never admit I was grinning because of Matcher Guy-slash-Lecture Douche, who I now knew was named Logan.
A few minutes later, an intuitive feeling told me I should check my phone again, so I pulled it out of my bag. Sure enough, there was another message from Logan.
Sasha – good thing this app is all about matching, because I have a feeling you and I could be a ‘match’ made in heaven ;)
Urgh. Total cliché. Unless he was trying to be ironic and funny, maybe Logan wasn’t as cool as I’d started to think he was in the last few minutes.
But if that were the case, why did I desperately hope his last message was right?
Chapter 3
Logan
Well, that was probably the most fun I’d ever had at college.
As I left the campus after my first lecture of the year, my thoughts were still filled with the hot-as-fuck girl I’d argued with barely even half an hour ago. She’d said her name was Sasha. She was honestly the most gorgeous girl in my class; fuck, maybe even the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen, and I’d noticed her as soon as she walked in. She’d been with a friend, a tall redhead whom I might’ve been all over had it not been for Sasha. There was something about her…maybe those crazy corkscrew curls. Or maybe it was her warm chocolate eyes that drove me wild.
Oh, who the hell was I kidding? I was all about those curves too. I sure as hell wouldn’t mind having her on top of me, gyrating on my cock while I ran my hands all over the luscious hills and valleys of her body.
Professor MacDonald’s lecture had been the only one on my schedule today, so I was on my way home already. My house was pretty close by; only a few blocks away from college, so I didn’t need to drive unless it was pissing down with rain. I was still living at home with my father, despite the fact that I spent most of my time on campus or out with friends. I could’ve easily joined a frat or moved out on my own, but I guess I was just kinda worried about Dad…and feeling guilty about myself, too.
Ever since my Mom passed away when I was a kid, Dad and I had been drifting apart. Our relationship, which was once honest, loving and caring, had turned into something else entirely. He was always too busy with work and other commitments, because when Mom died, he’d finally decided to go after his dream career in politics. For the last few years, he’d been on the Texas State Senate, and six months ago, he’d assumed the office of Lieutenant Governor of Texas. There was an old political rumor that the Lieutenant Governor of Texas was more powerful than the actual State Governor, and let’s just say that the rumor was quite accurate. My Dad was a very powerful and important figure these days.
Before his foray into the political world, he’d been a moderately successful actor, but politics had always held a special place in his heart. However, Mom had never liked the idea of any of us entering that world, especially Dad. She’d always said he was too honest, too good. Nowadays, I questioned whether she was right about that, considering the way he ignored me most of the time.
I also questioned whether Mom would be alive if it w
eren’t for me.
I pulled my backpack higher on my shoulders, rubbing my eyes as I walked towards my house. As soon as I turned onto the street, I felt like I didn’t belong; a feeling I always experienced when I came home. No one really belonged here. All the houses were huge; way too big for the amount of people that actually lived in them, and everything was hidden away behind gates, fences and security screens.
I didn’t mean for it to happen, but the girl from class suddenly popped into my mind again. I could almost hear her voice, telling me to do something about the situation we’d been arguing about in class.
I used my keycard to get through the security gates, unlocking the door and letting myself inside, and I was greeted by Martha, the housekeeper who’d worked for us since Mom passed away.
“My boy,” she gushed as soon as she saw me. She flicked off a piece of invisible fluff from my shoulder, fussing over my appearance. “Have you had anything to eat? I have lunch almost ready.”
“Cool. What’s for lunch?” I asked, flashing her a wide grin. “I’m hungry as hell.”
Martha tsk-ed in disapproval, and I knew what she would say next before she even opened her mouth. “None of that language in this house, please,” she huffed and puffed. “Your mother wouldn’t have liked you talking like that.”
Martha was the only person who I talked to about Mom. As far as Dad was concerned, she was a taboo subject. Soon after her death, he’d gotten rid of every photo of her and every other trace of evidence that she’d ever been around…not that there was much left after what had happened the night she died.
The whole thing left me thinking that Dad didn’t want to remember her at all, and it fucking stung.
I smiled weakly at Martha, unable to give her a response. As per usual when we spoke about my mother, her eyes became slightly watery, and she softly patted my shoulder. She knew how alone I felt at times.
I went up to my room, trying to ignore the sadness clawing at me from inside. Some days, it was easy to ignore the fact that Mom had been gone for so long. Other times, it stung badly, and the guilt almost drove me insane. Today was one of the bad days.
Once I was in my room, I plopped down on my bed. I didn’t mean to, but I found myself opening the Matcher app one more time, and I saw that Sasha was online. She hadn’t yet responded to my last message, and unable to help myself, I sent a new message to her.
Fun meeting you today. Last message was just a dumb joke, by the way. Don’t worry, I’m not some crazy stalker who thinks we belong together just because we matched on an app. Haha :p
Her reply came through immediately.
???
Her message made me grin.
What? I texted back. What’s with the ???
Are you the same person? she asked.
I chuckled at her response. Yeah. Just worried I upset you, I replied.
It’s okay. I don’t let idiots like you get to me :)
We’ll see about that! I’ll prove you wrong, if you let me…
I put my phone down on one of the pillows when I heard my father calling my name. With a sigh, I got up from the bed and followed his voice outside.
He was waiting in the hallway, looking all kinds of awkward. “What’s up?” I asked, wanting to get back to my phone so I could chat to Sasha some more. Dad usually only called me out when he needed something.
“Can I talk to you for a moment, son?” he asked, clearing his throat. He was always like this around me; formal as fuck.
It had been going on ever since Mom passed—he’d been acting like he didn’t even know me; like I wasn’t his son. Like I was just some stranger randomly living in his house. Sometimes I wondered why I even bothered worrying about him. He was clearly fine without me.
“I guess.” I shrugged, following him into his study. Even the fact that we were about to speak in the room where he always talked business made me feel uncomfortable. I barely even knew him anymore.
I sat down on the chair opposite the desk, fidgeting with the leather. Dad sighed and asked me to look at him, and that only served to worsen my mood. He always treated me like I didn’t even exist, and then he expected respect from me. Totally hypocritical.
“I have to tell you something,” he said, his voice rigid.
“Okay.”
“I...” He looked nervous for a moment. “I got married last weekend.”
I stared at him blankly, waiting for someone to yell ‘surprise!’ and jump from behind the filing cabinet with a camera. This was just a bad prank, right?
“Er…what?” I asked.
Surely I’d misheard him. I could have sworn he said he’d gotten married, but there was no way that could be right.
“Yes.” He coughed nervously. “I would have told you sooner, but you know...you’re always off in your own world. I didn’t think you’d have any interest in attending. It was also a rather spur of the moment decision.”
Yeah, I’m off in my own world…that’s because you constantly ignore me, you prick, I thought, but I just pursed my lips in response, not wanting to make things even worse.
He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my response, and my heart sank. Fuck. Apparently he was serious. He’d actually gone and ahead and gotten married without telling his only son what he was planning on doing.
What the hell? I hadn’t even known he was seeing anyone, let alone engaged. I guess that showed what I knew. Nothing.
And to think that all this time, I’d stayed living at home and putting up with his bullshit because I’d felt guilty and worried about leaving him on his own. Clearly, I wasn’t needed. He had other people to care about him now, and I was just some sort of afterthought.
Great. Fucking great.
“Where?” I asked robotically, realizing I still hadn’t responded yet.
“Just a small ceremony at Memorial Park with a couple of my closest friends,” Dad replied, waving a hand. “It was a spur of the moment decision, like I said. All planned in just a matter of days.”
I stared at him blankly. His closest friends had attended, huh? And yet he didn’t invite his own son. What a jackass.
“So why are you telling me this now?” I asked, the bitter edge in my voice all too obvious. “Isn’t it a bit late to fill me in on your life, since you’ve already gotten hitched?”
He frowned at me, as if he were actually unsure as to why I was reacting so poorly to his news. “I wanted to let you know that we’d be having dinner tomorrow at Café du Monet. I hope you can make it. My new wife, Kari, will be there, along with her daughter—your new stepsister. I’d like you to get acquainted before they move in.”
Jesus fucking Christ. A new stepsister as well as a stepmother? Who the hell just decided to spring news like this on their children?
My Dad, apparently. Asshole.
I decided I didn’t give a shit about who this new stepfamily was, especially the stepsister. It was probably some eight year old girl with a My Little Pony obsession, or whatever it was kids were into these days. It didn’t matter. I didn’t have to have anything to do with her; this house was big enough to hold all of us without me having to interact with anyone else aside from Martha. Clearly, I wasn’t wanted anyway. Otherwise I might have received an invitation to the damn ceremony, right?
“I’ll see if my schedule opens up,” I said.
I got up, getting ready to walk out. Right now, I truly despised my father, and I didn’t want to look at him for a second longer.
“Logan?” Dad called out after me as I walked towards the door. I turned around, pure rage burning in my eyes.
“What do you want?” I asked, trying to not let my vulnerability show. His news had shocked me beyond belief, and at the same time, it somehow felt like he’d betrayed my Mom, even though it had been years since she’d died. The only way I knew how to mask my feelings was with anger.
He looked at me for a long moment. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “Please, get back to your studies or whatever else
it was you were doing.”
I glared for a moment longer, hoping he would go on, but he didn’t. Instead he cleared his throat and shuffled the papers on his desk one more time, and it only made the void between us grow larger.
I left, closing the door firmly behind me.
Fuck him.
***
When I got back to my room, a pair of cold hands covered my eyes as soon as I shut the door.
“Surprise,” a feminine voice purred in my ear.
Ugh. Chelsea.
Usually I would’ve been excited, but today, I was too beat. I didn’t have the energy to deal with this today.
“I’m tired,” I groaned, moving out of her reach and letting her hands slip away. “What are you doing here?”
I could tell she was already sulking by the awful silence in the room, but I didn’t give a fuck. My day had just slid into the toilet, and I didn’t want to deal with Chelsea Bennett, of all people…otherwise known as the Blonde Devil.
I suppose some people would refer to her as my on-and-off girlfriend; not that I really considered a girl I screwed occasionally to be a girlfriend. She was more like a fuck-buddy, but when she wasn’t pissed at me for one reason or another, she told people we were dating, no matter how many times I told everyone we weren’t. It drove me crazy. She was hot, but her IQ was about the same as the room temperature, and she was the shallowest girl I’d ever met. There was no way I’d get into a serious relationship with her; not unless she got a frontal lobotomy and drastically changed her personality as a result.
I wasn’t one of those douchebag guys who let women believe they were dating, either. I must have told her a hundred times now. I don’t want a serious relationship. You are free to see whoever else you want, and I am not your boyfriend.
I’d forever regret the day I told her my address, because she’d made a habit of dropping by unannounced whenever she damn well pleased.
She stepped over to the bed and lay down next to me, her fingers trailing down my chest until she reached my abs. I groaned out loud, thinking I’d been pretty clear about wanting to be left alone, but she apparently misunderstood my grumbling for sounds of lust.
Mask - A Stepbrother Romance Page 21