Logan Kade

by Tijan

  he got up to go, I almost called him out. He looked tired. He’d run his hand over his face a few times during class, and his eyes seemed heavy. Something was wrong…. But I couldn’t handle my own stuff, so how could I take on someone else’s? And Logan was gone before I could ask if he was okay or not.

  In class, Jeremy, who I now tried to call Mr. Fuller because using his first name made me uncomfortable, mentioned the Honors Study Group one more time. And as I opened my mouth to tell him again that I couldn’t, he interrupted. He placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “Just think about it. It helps to have friends in high places sometimes.”

  It did. I couldn’t deny that, but my dad… Finally, I nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Great.”

  After that I ducked out of the room, and now here I was, filling out my third job application. The first had been for the university library, the second for the coffee shop on campus. This one was for a small pub a couple of miles from my house. It was off-campus, had nothing to do with Cain University, and though the owner said she knew my dad, she didn’t seem to care one iota about him. It was perfect.

  Then Logan walked in.

  I looked up, my pen poised in my hand, and stared at him.

  He came in with another guy, throwing the door open wide, and they sauntered like they owned the place. A week ago I would’ve hated that cockiness and the smug smirk that adorned his face, but today? I swallowed over a small ball forming in my throat.

  I was not excited to see him, and I ignored the little flutter in my stomach. I was just glad to see that whatever had been bothering him was gone now. His normal flair had returned, and I held still as he scanned the room.

  He found me in the corner eventually and did a little double take. His smirk grew as his eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. He said something to his friend, who nodded and headed for the bar. Then Logan came my way, sliding onto the bar stool across from me. He didn’t ask what I was doing there. He pulled the application away from me and began reading it out loud.

  I grabbed it back, glaring. “That’s private.”

  “Bruce.” He shook his head with a playful tsking sound. “Nothing’s private about my friends.”

  I frowned. “We’re friends?”

  “We haven’t had sex, and you haven’t called me an asshole or slapped me yet, so yeah.” He winked at me. “That classifies us as friends in my book.”

  There had to be some retort for that, but it wasn’t coming to me. I just stared at him. He scooted his barstool over so he could lean against the wall and brought his legs up to rest on another stool in front of him. Everything about him was relaxed, and for a moment, a warm surge rose in me. I liked this side of him. I got the sense that Logan didn’t classify a lot of people as friends. Or maybe he had a thousand friends, and I was just one of them, but it didn’t stop the flutter inside me.

  I felt included.

  I had Jason and Claire, but this was different. I didn’t know what it was, and I didn’t want to analyze it. I just wanted to enjoy the feeling.

  Logan signaled for the guy he’d come in with and caught me staring at him. His eyes narrowed briefly. “What?”

  “What?”

  “You’re giving me a weird look.”

  His friend placed a pitcher of beer onto the table. Logan moved his feet so the guy could sit. As he did, he nodded to me in silent greeting.

  Logan snapped his fingers. “Nate Monson. Taylor Bruce. You’ve been introduced.”

  Nate nodded again, asking Logan, “Bruce?”

  “Mason’s coach.”

  I tensed. Some guys flipped out when they found out who my dad was, but not this one. I knew Logan didn’t care either. So I relaxed. Nate had jet-black hair and features that would’ve looked at home on a runway. He wasn’t as lean as Logan, but he was a little taller. As he got comfortable and poured some beer in a glass, I glanced back and forth between the two. Nate seemed reserved, quiet, and very unlike Logan, who watched me as I sized them up.

  “Bruce,” Logan started, leaning closer to me over the table, his hand wrapped around the beer. “What are you doing applying for a job here?”

  I glanced at Nate. Was he going to chime in? But he just lifted his beer to take a sip and turned to watch the bar. He didn’t seem to care about Logan’s question.

  I shrugged. “I need a job.”

  “Bullshit. I’ve seen that house you live in. You guys have money.”

  Nate glanced at Logan then, a small smile on his face. Logan saw it, and his own lips curved, but neither said a word to the other.

  Logan arched an eyebrow at me.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I need a job. That’s it.”

  I needed something to do outside of school and my studies. I didn’t want to depend on Jason and Claire to always be there to entertain me, and I didn’t want any other friends. I wasn’t ready to wade into the drama friendships sometimes brought.

  Logan leaned back, raising his beer again. “I call bullshit, but whatever.” He glanced around. “This is a good place to work. Beer isn’t too watered down. We get free snacks.” He gestured to the popcorn machine. “And good tunes.” He nodded to the stage where a band was setting up, then to the jukebox.

  Nate chimed in, a low, smooth baritone, “It’s far enough from school that you don’t get a lot of sorority chicks either.”

  Logan nodded in agreement.

  “Is that normally a problem?”

  Both guys looked at me.

  I shrugged, feeling a little intimidated. “I mean, don’t guys want drunk sorority girls at a bar?”

  Nate grunted. “Sure, if you want a cheap lay. I’d rather have a sober girl at the end of the night, or at least one who knows who she is, not someone so insecure she’ll do anything I ask of her.”

  “You guys are reverse snobs.”

  They both frowned at me, confused.

  “What do you mean?” Logan asked.

  “Guys like wasted girls.”

  Logan shook his head. “Insecure guys want wasted girls. I’ve got a rep. I know that. But none of those girls were wasted. No way.”

  Eric always liked getting me tipsy. He didn’t care if I was drunk or not. This made me look at Logan a little differently. Something close to respect had started to form in me.

  I needed to go. That was dangerous. I already looked forward to his jokes, but if I respected him, too? That was just bad all around. Those things could lead to something more, something deep, so I had to go.

  I grabbed my purse and slid off my stool.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I, uh...”

  Nate wasn’t paying any attention. He watched the band setting up on the stage. But Logan almost seemed disappointed. I grabbed the application, crinkling it into a ball.

  “I have to go home.”

  “You’re not going to apply now?”

  “No.” My tongue lay heavy on the bottom of my mouth. I turned to go. My hand rested on the table.

  “Hey.” Logan scooted off his stool and came around to me. He crowded in, moving closer so I could feel his body heat. He rested his hand next to mine and his finger grazed against mine. He barred me from slipping out and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  He cared. I didn’t expect that from him. I reminded myself that I didn’t really know him. A week ago, I hadn’t known him at all.

  “Taylor?”

  “Use my last name.” I moved him back a little so I had some breathing room. I tried not to notice how good he felt, or how strong his arm was under my touch. “It’s more appropriate.”

  “What?”

  There it was again. Genuine confusion. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t getting defensive. He was just confused.

  “What’s going on here?” He edged back one more step. “You okay?”

  “No.” I waved my hand at him. “It’s you.”

  “Me?”

  “Because you’re bad.”
>
  He smirked. “I know I am.”

  I gave him a dark look. “You’re bad news. I can’t handle you.”

  He groaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. “Do you know how many directions I could take that? Seriously, Tay—Bruce. Watch your words if you don’t want me hitting you with one-liners.”

  I paused. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He forced out a breath. “Go on. I’m bad news. Why?”

  “Because I can’t hand—” I started to repeat my words, but Logan let out a closed-mouth half growl. “I can’t deal with the attention that follows you around,” I offered instead.

  He let out a breath he’d been holding. “Thank you. I didn’t think I could hold back anymore if you didn’t stop.”

  I pressed my lips together. I was trying to ditch him, and he was crafting his Loganisms, even if he wasn’t delivering them. Of course he was, and he was amused by the whole thing. The more his smile grew, the more I wanted to forget that I needed to stay away. Part of me wanted to stay. I wanted to hang out with him and Nate. They didn’t care. I didn’t understand, but I liked it, whatever it was they didn’t care about. I needed it.

  Logan studied me, and it was like he could read my mind. He threw an arm around my shoulders, and a rush of warm emotions swept over me. He turned me back to the stool and patted my hip. “Okay. Hop up there.”

  I ignored how good his hand felt, touching my hip. And once I was back on the stool, I didn’t think about how I missed the weight of him and how safe I’d felt, tucked into his side.

  He sat on the empty stool next to me, across from Nate, and turned to face me. I thought he was going to put his arm around me again, and I wanted it, though I shouldn’t have. I held my breath, but he didn’t.

  Logan filled the third glass Nate had brought to the table and nudged the beer toward me. “Come on, Bruce.” He touched the rim of his cup to mine. “I don’t like drunk girls to screw, but I do like drunk friends to hang out with.” His eyes peered right into mine.

  I licked my lips. That damn flutter was back in my stomach. “Friends?”

  He grinned down at me, his eyes darkening with promise. “To friends, Bruce.”

  Still watching each other, we lifted our glasses and took a sip. That was when I knew it.

  Logan Kade had really become my friend. God help me.

  LOGAN

  Shit.

  I wanted to fuck her. No. I wanted to do a whole lot more to her, but she wasn’t ready. She wanted a friend, so fine. I’d be the best fucking kind of friend there was. I scanned her up and down, and I grew hard, looking at the cut of her jeans, how her shirt shifted and I could see the side of her breast. How soft her skin looked, how soft her hand felt.

  Nope. I’d put on a hat I rarely wore and do what she wanted, and with that thought I glanced up. Two girls had been eyeing our table. I moved so I was facing them, and then I stared. That was all it took.

  They shared a look between themselves, then grabbed their purses and their drinks. They came over. And I could sit next to the girl I wanted, hit on the girl I didn’t want, and be a friend.

  Fucking hell.

  TAYLOR

  Three hours later I stared at my empty pitcher of beer. No, I wasn’t just staring at it. I was clutching it in my hands and inspecting the hell out of it—turning it over, looking inside, sniffing inside, and then placing it back on the table. All that beer. Was gone. Consumed by me.

  I was drunk.

  The first hour had gone by fast. It was fun being Logan’s friend. His one-liners turned from sexual to just wickedly smart. He liked to rile Nate up. I learned that real quick. A few choice words from Logan and he would stiffen, glare, then finally roll his eyes at himself and shoot back an insult. Logan lapped that up, usually turning the insult back on him.

  The girls had come at hour two. That was when I learned I really was Logan’s friend. He still sat beside me, but he had turned toward the two girls standing at the end of our table. Nate had disappeared from the table with another girl. I nudged Logan and asked who she was. He said he had no clue, just that Nate liked to get some mouth-on-dick action when he could. He said it so casually, like he was telling me the time. That was the beginning of my solo journey with this pitcher of beer.

  It had taken me an hour to drink it.

  That wasn’t counting the three beers Logan had poured for me before, or the shots Nate brought over for all of us, or my empty stomach. I’d stopped here on the way home to fill out the application. Nate and Logan had both ordered food earlier, but I hadn’t been hungry then.

  My stomach growled.

  I looked down at it. I was hungry now.

  “Logan.” I tugged on his sleeve.

  He glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t turn away from the girls. “Hmmm?”

  See? I was one of the guys now. It sucked.

  “I have to eat, or I have to go home.” I tried to give him my most serious face. “What do you propose we do?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was trying to hold back a grin. “Well, friend.” He emphasized that word.

  I winked at him, shooting him with my finger. “Good one.”

  He shrugged, looking proud of himself. “I’m being good. I haven’t hit on you once tonight, have I? I held back. I was being a good friend.”

  I nodded, then stopped. I don’t think I wanted to encourage that, did I? Then my stomach rumbled again. If I could feel it when I was this drunk, I knew I would’ve been starving if I were sober. “How do you propose we get home? Or get food? The grill closed an hour ago, right after dinner, didn’t it?”

  His chuckle slipped over and caressed me. I wanted to close my eyes to savor it, but instead, a goofy grin came to my face.

  Logan straightened from the table and scanned the bar. Then he rotated on his stool to face me. This put his back to the two girls, and both seemed irritated, but this was Motherfucking Logan Kade—his words two hours earlier, not mine. They weren’t going to argue.

  Grinning at my thoughts, my body jerked awake as Logan placed his hands on my knees. He leaned forward and murmured, “I’m not being such a good friend now. I should apologize, but I’m not going to.”

  I almost closed my eyes, letting his words slide over me. They warmed me, and I was fast not caring if we were friends or not. His knees also rested against mine, trapping me between his legs. Then his hands started a slow slide. They left my knees and progressed to my thighs at a snail’s pace. All I could do was hang my head and watch them. They stopped right before touching my stomach, and his fingers splayed out. His thumbs rested very close to my happy spot.

  I held my breath. “I’m a bit inebriated, Logan.”

  He grinned and good God, my heart leapt into my chest. My body was burning up. It was a fucking Sahara in here, then he said, “Me, too.” His forehead rested on mine, and he was right there, like right there. Our eyes were looking into each other. His breath was teasing me, acting likes its own seductive caress. This guy was dangerous, with a capital D. I needed to start fanning myself because I was losing all senses here.

  I glanced down. I had to do something, or my lips would be on his and that’d be trouble, so much trouble, but I felt Logan’s attention was fully focused on me. My body was still burning. I was on fire. I gulped, and I started to lick my lips, but I heard his groan. I stopped, or I tried to stop. My body leaned forward. It was edging just a centimeter toward him.

  No! Stop, Taylor. I tried to command myself, but I felt my body going. He wanted me, too, but he was waiting for me. He’d made the first move, and now it was my turn. One move from me, and it was game on.