by A. J. Logan
“That I’m an inconsiderate, irresponsible, complete jackass even if I did Quinn a favor.”
“Hm. This sounds interesting. What brought on that realization?”
“Victoria. Apparently, she caught wind of the little setup I orchestrated last night, and neither she nor Quinn were very appreciative of my methods to get Grant the fuck away from Quinn.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t approve either but the further the douche is away from Quinn, the better.” And away from Victoria, far away.
“Is that not what you wanted to yell at me about too?” Asher gives me a curious look as he takes a swig from the bottle, waiting for me to unsuccessfully gather my wits.
“Yep. That was it. I just want to know why you didn’t clue me in.”
“Because Quinnster has some strange effect on you, and I didn’t want you to talk me out of it.”
“Understandable.” And it is absolutely understandable as it dawns on me that it’s one of the many reasons, I haven’t been forthcoming about Victoria. I don’t want him to talk me out of it. Without confessing to him, I still have a smidgen of hope that he won’t hate me forever. If I tell him, he might validate what I fear and order me to stay away from her.
Reclining back, I already know that I won’t be offering any confessions, so I ask for details of whatever he’d done. It’s a good distraction as he fills me in, not realizing that although I’m listening, my mind is miles away—with her.
19
Victoria
Moving one arm in front of the other, I glide through the water, diving under before flipping and pushing off the wall, dolphin kicking to the surface as I make my way back across the pool. Gripping the side of the pool, I look to the clock on the wall, realizing that class ends in a few minutes, but I need to keep going. Wearing out my body in the pool has helped me sleep, the exhaustion weighs on me at night, knocking me right out. The few times I’d attempted to swim laps at home, Elliot had been in the adjoining weight room, automatically canceling that option since it’s been my mission to avoid him as much as possible.
Coach calls final warning to get out of the pool as I make one more lap before hopping out, sitting on the pool’s edge before sluggishly standing. By the time I enter the locker room, my classmates have all scattered, gladly clearing out now that the school day is over. It’s the good thing about it being the last class of the day. Only, I’m not ready to go home and I wasn’t intending on heading that way just yet anyway. It’s Wednesday, so I plan to visit Olivia since she’s more than likely still not receiving any other visitors.
Lost in thought, I quickly rinse the chlorine off before heading to the lockers. Drying off, I grab a T-shirt and yoga pants, and after pulling them on, I close the locker, stepping back to twist my hair into a knot on top of my head.
Suddenly, I’m hauled back then flung forward. My hands fail to come up in time to shield my face from slamming into the metal locker. Fingers dig into my arm, yanking me around as I turn to see Grant, anger flashing across his face. His eyes are intent on me as I reach for the tender area on my cheek that crashed into the metal surface.
“It’s time.”
“What?” I shove my hands against his chest but he’s an unrelenting force as panic surges through me.
“It’s time for you to talk to your little friend.”
“Who?”
“Quinn. Tell her that your brother is a piece of shit and convince her to give me another chance.”
“No.” My voice is low but stern. There’s no way in hell I’m sending her back into the grips of this evil monster.
“Then it’s time for your little photo to go public.”
Bile rises in my throat when he drops his hand between us, fingers trailing down my stomach, moving lower between my legs with only the thin layer of material between his vile touch and my body. Struggling against his harsh grip, I scream for him to let me go. His taunting laugh is cut short and his hands are ripped away from me.
Elliot hauls him backwards. A deafening crash fills the room as Grant is slammed into the metal lockers opposite of the one he had me pinned against. Elliot’s hand snakes around Grant’s throat as his other balls into a fist, smashing into Grant’s face repeatedly. Grant fails to shield himself from Elliot’s continuous blows, fueled by a furious rage. Singularly focused on pummeling Grant as he falls to the ground, Elliot rears back, sinking his foot into Grant’s stomach. The gut-wrenching sound springs me into action. I scream for Elliot to stop his assault, not that Grant doesn’t deserve every bit of it, but my bigger concern is that Elliot isn’t going to stop. Yelling his name, I charge forward. Slamming into his back, I wrap my arms around him, pleading with him to stop. He goes completely still except for the rapid rising and falling of his breath. Standing rigid, he stares down at Grant, who moans, rolling onto his side before getting on all fours and attempting to crawl away. I feel Elliot tense, preparing to move forward, so I clutch tighter.
“Please stop,” I plead. And he does, he freezes in place as I cling to him. Emotions overtaking me, a sob escapes my lips.
Elliot’s powerful hand, which was just used to exact ferocious brutality, tenderly clasps my forearm, pulling it away from his body just enough to enable him to rotate to face me. I tuck my face against his chest as his strong arms snake around me, pulling me securely to him.
Grant braces against the lockers, rising to his feet with an exaggerated groan.
Feeling Elliot’s body shift in Grant’s direction, I squeeze my arms tighter. “Please don’t.”
He tenses but doesn’t make a further attempt to escape my grip, and I’m thankful, feeling safe and protected in his embrace. I’m uncertain if Grant would’ve stopped had Elliot not intervened, so I don’t want him to let me go anytime soon.
“If you even think of looking her way, I’ll kill you,” Elliot says to Grant. The threat sends a chill down my spine, still unsure if Elliot had planned to stop on his own.
Shoving off, Grant stumbles towards the exit, mumbling and cussing under his breath. Then the door opens and shuts in quick secession.
Finally, I’m able to take in a deep breath, relief flooding me that Grant is gone and Elliot is here. We stand unmoving for a few minutes before his hands caress up my back. His head dropping, face pressed against my neck, he whispers, “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” The breathless word probably doesn’t convince him any more than it convinces me.
His lips tenderly brush a kiss along my neck. “Why was he in here?”
“He wanted me to get Quinn to give him another chance.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” And now I have even more reason to make sure Quinn and I stay as far away from him as possible. “Why are you here?”
“You,” he whispers, stiffly pulling away to look at me. I don’t further question him. I don’t care why he was here, I’m just thankful he was because Grant caught me off guard yet again.
“Thank you.” My hands reluctantly move away from his torso as embarrassment and anger rise within me. I hate the frightened feeling still pulling at me.
“If he comes near you again, I want to know.”
“He won’t.” And even if he does, telling Elliot probably wouldn’t be the best idea. Grant deserved every bit of the pain inflicted upon him, but I don’t want Elliot involved. “He just caught me off guard.” Again.
“That night in the guesthouse, what happened?”
“No. I didn’t sleep with him.”
“I believe you, but something happened, and I want to know what. Did he hurt you?”
Shaking my head, I turn to grab my bag. This isn’t a conversation I want to have with Elliot of all people.
“Victoria, tell me.”
My back is to him, but I know exactly when he steps behind me. Still trying to calm his exasperated breathing, heat radiates from his pores.
“He followed me into the guesthouse. I didn’t know he was in the
re until I woke up with his hands on me. I got pissed, told him to leave, and I did the same.” Purposely, I leave out what happened before I woke up. There’s a good chance Grant will retaliate and send the photo out, but there’s a possibility he will fear the consequences since he just got his ass kicked again. Doubtful, but I can hope. And I do because I just want to forget all about it.
“I—”
“No. Don’t. I just want to forget … everything that happened that night.”
His face pains when I exaggerate the word everything because that includes him. Grabbing my bag, I walk out of the locker room. He trails a step behind in unnerving silence, following me to my car. I slide into the driver’s seat, shutting the door without a word as he walks away. He jerks the door of his NSX open before dropping inside and slamming it closed. Forcing my eyes off of him, I drive away, steering to the place I shouldn’t go because of him, but wanting to be there even more now because unlike Elliot Bass, Olivia makes me believe there is some hope left in the world.
20
Elliot
Sliding off the bed, my muscles ache with tension as I look around my well-appointed room in the Hastings’ house. I might’ve overdone it a bit last night because my head is pounding. I shower and pull on a fresh set of clothes. It’s Saturday and Asher’s parents are out of town so there’s bound to be a Saturday night party to follow up last night’s less-than-thrilling bash. I consider just heading home because it took every ounce of willpower I had not to crawl into bed with her last night. It’s been days since I found Grant in the locker room, but my anger hasn’t faded. It’s taken just as much strength not to corner him and finish taking all my fury out on him. There’re only two things stopping me—her plea to leave it alone and the fear that I’ll follow through on my threat and strangle the bastard to death without hesitation.
Yeah. It’s probably best if I head home. Even empty and silent, it’s best to be there and away from the temptation.
Heading downstairs, I spot Asher wrapping up a conversation and stepping away from one of the housekeepers.
“You disappeared last night.” He remains silent and I think I already know the answer to where he’d gone. I’m sure he was with Quinn, so I back off. “I’m gonna head home.”
We’re mid-conversation so I don’t pay much attention to the doorbell ringing until the housekeeper ushers in the guy I recognize from the art studio. What the hell?
From his confused look, he’s wondering why I’m here too. Then recognition dawns on his face, and he confirms the answer I didn’t want to know. “Is Victoria around?”
“Yeah,” Asher says, pointing upstairs. “She’s upstairs.”
The bastard moves like he’s welcome to walk up to her bedroom, so I step forward. “I’ll let her know she has company.”
“Thanks.” He flashes me a smug smile and I have the urge to remove it from his face, but I head upstairs instead.
Pounding my fist on her bedroom door, I all but yell her name just as the door flies open, and it just gets worse. She’s breathtaking in a royal blue sundress, and her red hair cascades over her shoulder. I want to thread my hand into it and haul her far away from the lucky bastard downstairs. “Art boy is downstairs waiting on you.”
Her hand drops from the doorknob and she steps back, quickly grabbing a pair of black ballerina flats. Sliding them on her feet, she curses under her breath and mumbles, “He’s early.”
“For what exactly?”
“None of your business.” Brushing past me, she hurries down the stairs. I watch as his eyes trail down her body and back up. She quickly clasps his arm as he greets her, and they hustle out the door.
I’m making it my business. “What was that?”
Asher shrugs, unconcerned. “I don’t know. He said something about the art museum and grabbing supper at Tennille’s.”
Damn it. It is a date, and a preplanned one, because you have to make reservations at least a week ahead at Tennille’s … unless you have a connection, that is. Shit. I already know she’s going to hate me, but is that any different than the current status of whatever the hell is going on between us? No matter, my mind is already made up. She continually drops me, even after I foolishly offered myself up to her. How could she move on so quickly with that ass wipe? She won’t walk away from him, like she does to me constantly. Why can’t I just leave it alone? Why can’t I just stay away, let her be happy? But I won’t, not if it’s on the arm of that dickwad—or anyone else, really, but he’s my only concern at the moment. Change of plans, I won’t be moping away at home. “I’ll be back later. Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”
“Same.”
Yeah. Not a chance there. Hurrying to my car, I steer out of the driveway, retrieving my phone. I don’t hesitate to make the call that will only push her further away from me. But I can handle that. What I can’t handle is her laughing, enjoying the afternoon with art boy—someone who she is actually compatible with, unlike me.
21
Victoria
“I loved it,” I say, exiting the doorway of the museum while Dalton holds the door open for me.
He steps around me when we reach his car, pulling the handle to open the passenger door. I’m just about to have a seat as he asks, “Are you sure?”
My fingers clutch the hard surface of the door frame and I hesitate to look to him. When I do, his warm smile still in place but there’s an uneasiness to his posture. “Yes, I had a great time.”
“I hope so. You seemed a little distant, so I wasn’t sure if you were really enjoying yourself.”
Dropping my hand to my side, I let out a frustrated breath. I know I’d been distracted, but I’d tried (and apparently failed) to not let him know. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a long week, but I really am enjoying myself.”
“Me too.” He smiles, motioning for me to get into the car. “And it’s not over yet, if you’re up for some good food.”
“Yes. That sounds good.” Mostly. Though I’m enjoying myself, I know I should’ve backed out. I’d considered it nearly every day this week, especially after what happened in the locker room with Grant and Elliot. The last two days of the week was spent simply going through the motions. I’d thought maybe this would pull me out of my funk, but I think it’s having the opposite effect. Now I know that no matter how much I try, Elliot Bass is ingrained in my heart and soul. I told myself I was hiding the date from him to avoid causing drama, but the hurt expression on his face made me realize that I hadn’t wanted him to know because I didn’t want to hurt him.
Dalton shuts the door after I’m safely situated in the seat, hurrying around to slide into the driver’s seat. He’s thoughtful, polite, uncomplicated, so why is the thought of him asking me out again making me so unsettled? I want stable. I want someone who doesn’t fly off the handle at the drop of a hat. I want someone reliable, someone I don’t have to second guess or wonder what he’s thinking. Or if he’s going to run away scared because he can’t separate his feelings for me from the fact that I’m his best friend’s sister. At least, those are all the reasons on repeat in my head as I continuously force the person I shouldn’t want, but still do, out of my mind.
The car pulls to a stop in front of Tennille’s the valet employee pulls the door open, Dalton hands his keys off then hurries around, holding his hand to me as I step out of the car. Placing my hand in his, I note how odd it feels but I don’t let go as he leads me to the door, pulling it open with this free hand as the other releases mine, gently pressing the small of my back as we step into the restaurant. As unnatural as his touch feels, I don’t shy away from it because I want to like him—the attractive, polite, uncomplicated guy who doesn’t change his mind every five minutes.
Dalton steps to my side as we walk up to the hostess. “Four o’clock reservation for Maynor.”
The hostess skims the list before looking back to Dalton. “Yes, here it is. My apologies, but there will be just a short wait before your table is
ready. Maybe twenty minutes.”
Dalton glances to his watch, looking to me, “Hm. It’s four now. Do you mind waiting?”
“No, not at all.”
The hostess motions to the small waiting area near the entrance as Dalton hesitantly clasps my hand. We walk to the small leather bench and have a seat, but he doesn’t release my hand. He makes small talk for about ten minutes before I begin to relax a bit. Even though his hand remains entwined with mine, it’s taken me a bit to think I have a chance at truly enjoying the rest of the evening. No sooner had the thought occurred to me than the restaurant’s door swings open and a large group of loud voices I’d recognize anywhere walk in, led by none other than the bane of my existence.
Elliot’s eyes quickly drop to Dalton’s hand joined with mine as he walks over to us.
Standing, I release Dalton’s hand. There’s no way this is accidental. “What are you doing here?”
“Grabbing a bite to eat. What else?” He smirks as Asher and Wade walk up next to him. “I told your brother it’s such a coincidence that my grandpa had a reservation up for grabs since he made it for a business meeting before remembering he’d be traveling this weekend.”
That asshole has an answer for everything, pulling a cover story out of his ass to explain any scenario. It’s tempting to say exactly what he’s up to, but the last thing I want is a scene in the middle of Tennille’s with Dalton watching on. “Yep. Big coincidence.”
“Enjoy your date.” He winks, continuing over to the hostess as he loudly announces, “Bass reservation, party of twenty.”
“Right this way.” The hostess gives him a warm smile, leading him and the other nineteen idiots to a section of tables. Kind of strange since we’re waiting on a table for two. How do I know that he went out of his way to ensure our wait? Whether he’d done it to stroke his own perceived importance or simply to piss me off doesn’t matter. I want to throat punch him all the same.