The waitress brought me a large mug full of frothy coffee. I thanked her and sipped at it. It was scalding hot, so I quickly put it back down to let it cool and went back to typing and researching.
I lost myself in the paper and all the work that went with it, so when a thin body plopped down in the chair across from me, I didn’t even realize who it was until she spoke.
“I’m surprised.”
I was surprised, too. My head jerked up to see Lexie sitting across from me, wearing leggings and UGGs. Her eyes were etched out in black and a pretty shade of blue that didn’t do much for her eyes, but looked great with her sweater. Those eyes were narrowed at me now, suspicious and maybe more than a little judgmental.
“I thought you were smarter than that,” she continued, sipping at her latte.
Frowning, I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”
Her face pinched together, making her look like she was sucking on a lemon instead of sipping at steaming, extra sweet coffee and milk. “I told you about Logan to warn you,” she said, her voice dripping with something that might have been as strong as hatred or as weak as annoyance. I couldn’t really tell. “He’s bad news, and what do you do? Instead of running the opposite direction, you go straight into his arms?”
I paled a little. Did Lexie know about me and Logan? And if she did, just how much did she know…?
“I didn’t go straight into his arms,” I argued, closing my laptop so that I could face her more fully.
She rolled her eyes. “Sure. And I’m sure it was a school project that had you sneaking into Old Main after hours a few nights ago.”
I froze. She saw us together for our ‘date.’ “That was…” I struggled to find some reasonable, rational explanation, but nothing came to mind. She was right. We had most definitely not snuck in there to work on some project, much less with Logan of all people. But I wasn’t prepared to explain to her our complicated relationship… if you could call our brief interactions that. Mostly, I wasn’t sure how to explain us. And now, it didn’t really seem to matter, because there was no us.
The only person it mattered to was Miranda, and I was set on convincing her he was no one to me.
Lexie smirked. “Oh, you act so much more mature than us, like you don’t have those primal desires like we do,” she said, her voice heavily laden with that sneering tone. “But when it comes right down to it, perfect little straight A’s Addy is just as horny as everyone else.” She laughed, and it was an unattractive sound to say the least.
“What is your problem, exactly?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable with her words and her attitude. The last time we’d had a conversation—in a coffee shop, about Logan no less—we’d been friends. But right now? It seemed a lot like we were enemies pitted against each other.
I just didn’t really understand why.
Folding her arms across her chest, her lemon expression came back in full. “My problem is that you think you’re so perfect,” she snapped, making me jerk back against her words. “And now I know that you’re not. You’re just a little college slut like the rest of us.”
I opened my mouth to tell her that she was out of her mind, but she just smirked and pushed her chair back. Leaving her latte and everything, she got up and headed for the door. She gave me a little wave from the door, then left the coffee shop altogether.
I stared after her for a long time, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she was being so… crazy. And I didn’t even really understand why. She suddenly seemed to hate me, when it used to be that we were friends. Sure, we had never been super close or anything, but we hadn’t had an active issue between us. Mostly, we kept topics light and unimportant, leaving us in a safe zone of not having to pick a fight with the other over social, political, or moral grounds.
Now, that seemed to have changed. Things were different now, and I just couldn’t really understand what it was that had caused that change.
After several minutes of just staring at the door, I finally shook my head and opened up my laptop again. I typed in my password quickly and brought up the draft of my paper. I spent twenty minutes just staring at the screen, trying to figure out what to type—or even what my train of thought had been when I last left off. But I couldn’t come up with anything. I was so wrapped up in Lexie and Logan and what right did she have to be upset about anything anyway?
“She’s crazy,” I muttered to myself.
Leaning back in my chair and pushing my computer off to the side, I pulled my coffee towards me and wondered why she was so upset.
I sipped at my coffee, discovering it was finally cool enough to drink, and mulled it over. I hadn’t done anything to her, and even when I figured out she was probably lying about Logan and their activities together. I hadn’t told anyone about that.
Which, you know, probably no one would have believed me, but that wasn’t why I didn’t tell anyone. I just felt that she had her reasons and could take care of herself.
So then what was her problem?
I saw a couple at the counter ordering a coffee. The lady at the register was smiling, friendly because it was her job to be, and the guy was being friendly back. The girlfriend however did not appreciate the polite, formality of being friendly that was happening between them. She smacked her boyfriend’s arm and the look on her face told me that the words she whispered under her breath were not words of love and encouragement.
And that’s when I realized it. “She’s jealous!” It was ridiculous—it wasn’t like they were together, and according to Logan, they hadn’t ever been together—but now that the idea had popped into my head, I was positive that was what it was. Lexie was jealous of me. The girl who was supposed to be some kind of nerd girl.
Shaking my head, I almost laughed out loud, it was so ridiculous. I half felt like telling her that there wasn’t anything between Logan and me anymore and if she wanted him, all she had to do was go through that skinny little blonde freshman he was trying to charm the pants off of.
And probably had.
But thinking of Logan getting any girl’s pants off, especially some tart like Lexie or that bubble gum chewing blonde, well, it made my stomach churn. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea.
In fact, the only thing that gave me any peace of mind was the knowledge that Logan had already turned Lexie down.
“At least he doesn’t want her.”
Chapter 4
My date with Derek was tonight, and I wasn’t really sure how I was feeling about it. On the one hand, it was a good thing. Derek seemed like a really great guy and I thought he was pretty attractive. On the other hand, after the disaster with Miranda at the party with Mason, I wasn’t really sure I was up for much of anything.
Mostly, I felt like sitting in at home and hoping no one would bother me.
That’s why I was sitting on the edge of my bed wrapped up in my fluffy robe holding my phone out in the palm of my hand. I was debating whether or not to text Derek to cancel on him. It wasn’t too late. He didn’t live far from the bar where we were meeting and I hadn’t started to get ready yet. If I canceled now, there would be no real damage done.
Biting my lip, I opened up a new message to send to Derek. Nervous, I got up from the bed and began to pace. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to cancel, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go either. Why wasn’t there some middle ground, I wondered?
There is, stupid, I thought to myself. It’s called staying in, and it usually means taking off all of your clothes. Like I had the other night with Logan… I could picture his body built strongly with hard muscles that fit together so deliciously perfectly that I couldn’t help but burn at the thought of his body. I reacted physically to him, there was no denying it. And with his deep, stormy blue eyes and that long blonde hair… well, it was hard not to get lost in his physical appeal.
But I also remembered the way his hands shook as they came to my waist, the care he took as he couched my body with his trembling hands.
And the tattoos. One for each scar on his beautiful body. I couldn’t bring myself to ask any more than he was willing to explain, I think, what that meant, but I could guess. An abusive father… I could only imagine the kind of hell he went through to receive those scars and I knew without ever experiencing it myself that the worst scars he had were the ones he couldn’t cover up with ink.
I thought that maybe it was this intimate knowledge of what he’d gone through, not just the physical reaction my body got from his, that made him so constantly wrapped around my mind.
I paced in front of my window, chewing on my lower lip as I thought more and more of Logan—and the things we did that night. My first time…
As I turned around so that I could start pacing the other way again, I happened to glance out the window. And just in time, too. There, on the sidewalk just below me, was Logan. He was walking arm in arm with some girl. Not the blonde from the other day, but another girl. A pretty one.
Prettier than the blonde, I thought. She didn’t look like a ditzy bimbo, I thought. And that was worse. Instead, she looked like she was a bit of a bad girl with her leather jacket and her nose piercing, but she also didn’t look like she was throwing herself at Logan.
In fact, I had a feeling that she was the kind of girl who didn’t throw herself at anyone. She was tough, I thought, and probably the perfect match for Logan.
Well, good for him, right?
I was moving on and so was he. On the same night even. How perfect. We couldn’t be together, no point in being lonely, right?
I shoved off my robe, tossing it into the hamper. I marched naked to my drawers to find my underwear and bra. Searching through pair after pair, I couldn’t figure out why none of them looked like what I wanted right now.
Logan had found his perfect rebel biker chick and I had found my premed, stand up citizen, probably likes to play Yahtzee with his grandparents type guy and everything was perfect.
No one had to have hurt feelings anymore. It was great. Just great.
I found a matching set of panties and bra. They were both black with lacy trim along the seams. The bra was a push up, making my already ample cleavage look even better, and the panties hung low on my hips and were in a bikini cut, the lace surprisingly soft along my shaved skin.
In fact, if Logan had a girlfriend and I had a boyfriend—who was not destined to become a criminal or a cage fighter or something else equally ridiculous—then Miranda would have to see that I had changed, right? I could prove to her that I was a stand up citizen now. No doing bad, stupid things anymore.
I debated what to wear tonight, going through my closet kind of aimlessly for a while as I tried to find the perfect outfit. I passed pants and blouses and that stupid interview dress that made me look like Wednesday from the Adams Family. None of it was what I wanted.
Finally, my hand stopped at the silky dress that I hadn’t worn in a long time. It was a layered bodycon dress, with the under layer being a dark, racy red and the outer layer being a black mesh. The combination gave the dress a shimmering, morphing type quality that was seductive if you wanted it to be. Or if you added a nice jacket, it could be formal.
Of course, it was a little short to be formal. It stopped somewhere at my upper thighs and for a moment I reconsidered the dress.
The walk was going to be cold. Did I really want to be wearing something that was going to expose the majority of my legs?
My mind flashed to Logan with his arm around that girl…
I pulled the dress on over my head and grabbed a long coat and scarf. It would keep me mostly warm anyway and if it got too cold, I’d just walk faster. Movement worked great for keeping people warm…
My first date with Derek happened to be the second time I saw Miranda. We were all at a bar and I wasn’t sure how she got in, since I knew she wasn’t twenty one yet, but then, neither was I so it was clearly possible.
The more I learned about Miranda, the more I realized she wasn’t the same little girl that I remembered.
I had my arm snaked through Derek’s and was smiling easily as he led the way to a table. It wasn’t a fancy place or anything, no reservations or expectations, just a bar, a dance floor, and some tables set up for those looking to avoid the humiliation of dancing.
Derek led me to one of these.
He pulled out my chair for me, and I sat, pulling my dress hem under me. There was a quick moment where I worried my dress was too sexy for the occasion, but looking around me it became clear I fit right in.
Before Derek took his seat, he leaned down near me so that his warm breath tickled at my ear as he whispered, “Do you want anything to drink?” He used his thumb to motion towards the bar.
I looked up at him, and offered a smile, shaking my head. He smiled at me as he nodded his head once before heading to the bar. I watched him go and decided, as I had the other night, that he’s handsome. He was tall with those lean muscles that were strong enough to lift me, if not to toss me around, and his hair was a deep shade of brown that he styled very deliberately. He was clean cut and nicely dressed, but with just enough sex appeal to make me wonder what he looked like beneath those stylish clothes.
My mind flashed to an image of Logan’s scarred skin, covered with intricately woven tattoos. One for each scar.
The image caused a mixture of heat and sympathy to rush through me. I didn’t think that there could be anyone who looked—or felt, my mind whispered treacherously—like Logan did.
Not in a million years.
Derek came back a moment later carrying two drinks. He placed one in front of me. “Club soda,” he called in answer to my unasked question as he placed it down. His looked to be a foamy pale ale.
I squashed the urge to ask for one myself, instead sliding my nonalcoholic drink closer to me. “Thanks.”
I asked him to dance for little reason other than distraction and to enjoy the nearness of someone else’s body—and maybe to secretly pretend it was Logan. But instead of saying yes and taking the chance to slide his hands along my body in time with the music, Derek’s cheeks turned a little pink. He laughed, running a hand through his hair.
Looking at me, his eyes a pleasant, warm shade of brown, he said, “Sorry, but any rhythm I might have goes as far as music and not a lick farther. There are three year olds who dance better than I do.”
His self-depreciation was so light and he sounded so amused with himself that I couldn’t help but smile. I’d been so wrapped up in my past and the promise of the train wreck that was Logan, I had almost forgotten how nice it was to just enjoy an easy going moment with someone.
“Well, in your defense,” I said, smiling slyly, “I’m pretty sure those three year olds are on Dance Moms and their lives suck.”
Derek grinned at me, folding his arms along the table so he could lean a little closer to me. “True. I should be grateful that I have no idea how to coordinate my feet—and that my mom isn’t insane.”
My face fell a little. My own mother wasn’t crazy. She was probably one of the most sane, responsible people out there—which was exactly why I found myself fighting so hard against her. When I was younger, I had thought she was crazy. Talking about medical school and all the things I had to be and to do with my life. She had my whole life and persona planned out by the time I was out of the womb.
And I couldn’t do it. I knew long before she did that I would never live up to her beautiful dreams, but she kept pushing and pushing.
Then, she stopped. She figured out the hard way that I was never going to be that model person she had always envisioned.
I just wished it hadn’t been something so awful that convinced her.
“—at least that’s what Kass said,” Derek said, unaware that I had drifted into myself and missed half of what he had just said. “I can’t imagine making such a huge change like that. California to Massachusetts?” He shook his head. “That’s crazy. Do you regret it at all?”
I smiled at him, shoving asid
e tainted memories of home. “Not right now,” I told him, batting my eyelashes just a little to let him know that I was talking about him.
It worked. His eyes became bright and his smile softened to one that was almost tender. Sliding his hand over the surface of the table, he brushed his fingertips along mine. “Good,” he said.
The rest of the date went well. We talked about everything—his dreams of being a singing physician slash family man and my hopes to be a great business woman; what it was liking growing up (for him, not for me - I wasn’t ready to go there with anyone just yet) and his secret fear of yipping puppies. By the end of the night I felt like I’d known him forever. We were a comfortable pair who could tell jokes or walk in silence without worrying about what the other was thinking.
That’s how things were supposed to be, right?
Things were going so well that I almost didn’t spot her. I was so focused on Derek, that I was pleasantly numb to the things that were driving my world upside down. But my subconscious was all too happy to point her out to me.
In a bright yellow dress that was clinging to her tiny, frail looking body, Miranda danced in the middle of the floor. Her dance was seductive, closer to sex than dancing, and her partner was more interested in trying to feel her up than matching her rhythm.
He definitely wasn’t Mark, either.
As soon as I spotted her, my heart dropped into my stomach. I couldn’t even hear Derek anymore as he continued on with the story about his tabby gray cat who went missing when he was a kid. All I could focus on was Miranda, dancing as though she didn’t have a care in the damn world.
I did my best to write it off as a coincidence. She was just dancing and letting off steam and this was a popular club for college kids. She was new in town and was just getting to know the place, so she came here. Right?
Wrecked Book 3 Page 4
