Some Kind of Hell

by London Casey

  Logan put his hands to my body again, this time lifting me to the table.

  “Don’t move,” he said.

  I nodded.

  He slipped away and came back a few seconds later with the bottle of vodka. He took a drink and positioned himself between my legs. He leaned close and touched the table with his hands.

  “Talk to me,” he said. “Annie. Please talk to me.”

  I don’t know what came over me when it did. Maybe the emotion. Maybe the vodka. Maybe reading Logan’s notebook and trusting him - and those killer eyes of his - but I began to spill it all. I talked about Jared. How we met. How we were together. How it went to hell but I figured it would just run its course or something, I really didn’t know. It was all routine and habit by the time Jared told me what he had done. Then came the kicker of telling Logan about that. Jared didn’t just cheat; he got another girl pregnant.

  When I stopped talking, I took a breath and felt tears rush to my eyes again.

  “Have a drink,” he said. “Fuck.”

  I took a drink and asked, “Can you relate now?”

  “Nope,” he said. “But I’m sure it feels good to get that off your chest like that, doesn’t it?”

  I had to hand it to Logan, it definitely felt good to get it all off my chest like that. He stared at me until I finally gave in and just smiled.

  “Perfect,” he said, lifting the bottle to his lips.

  He drank and offered me a drink.

  I took it and as I started to slide off the table, Logan’s hands clamped at my legs, stopping me.

  “You’re staying the night, right?” he asked.

  I looked beyond him and realized I hadn’t thought that part of the night out. From what I gathered, Tripp owned the garage and the house. With Maggie drinking, she couldn’t drive me home. I certainly couldn’t drive and wouldn’t even let the thought cross my mind for a second.

  “I guess I have no choice,” I said.

  “There’s always a choice,” Logan said. “Some might be right, some might be wrong, but there’s always a choice.”

  I felt like he was taunting me, the way the words flowed from his lips. They looked as delicious as the vodka, but I worried if they would sting the same as the vodka did going down…

  I felt myself leaning towards Logan, getting more lost in him.

  I wanted to kiss him.

  I wanted my tongue to flick at his lips.

  Logan pulled back for every inch I came at him, smiling the entire time. He knew what he was doing. He was letting the tension build. Letting me become more and more frustrated. I finally just jumped from the table and pushed him out of the way.

  “Whatever,” I said.

  “Yeah, tough girl,” he called to me. “You can snuggle with me tonight.”

  “You can snuggle with your hand,” I yelled, bringing life back to the little party we were all having.

  Everyone looked at me and then at Logan. I looked over my shoulder for a second to see him looking flustered.

  “Dude,” Tatum said, “this one’s tough.”

  “You have no idea,” Maggie said. “She beat up a guy once.”

  “I didn’t beat him up,” I said. “I hit him until he cried.”

  “And pissed himself,” Maggie added.

  “That too.”

  “In grade school?” Tripp asked.

  I laughed. “Tenth grade.”

  “Fuck,” Tatum said. He shook his head and looked at Logan.

  Logan walked over to the table, purposely walking up behind me but not touching me. He left that small space between us and I could feel things building that shouldn’t have been building.

  I was going to get myself into trouble… but that’s kind of what I set out for, right?

  5

  When Tripp lifted the last vodka bottle and cried out, “last call!” I fumbled for my phone and realized it was seriously two in the morning. Somehow we had all hung out for hours, sharing drinks, laughs, jokes, stories, and relaxing. It was the most free and relaxed I’d been in month. Well, when Logan didn’t act like an ass.

  He had a built-in switch where he could go from the guy writing a beautiful acoustic song, flirting with me, tearing me apart with his eyes, to this larger than life egotistical asshole who walked around like he owned the world.

  Tripp finished off the bottle with six shot glasses in front of him. They were all brimmed and spilling everywhere but nobody cared one bit.

  “Last drink,” he announced. “I want to make this the greatest fucking drink of our lives, okay? This is the drink we take and know that we’ll always remember this moment. The moment we finally had that giant step toward our dream.”

  “DownCrash,” Tatum said.

  “DownCrash,” Logan repeated.

  “DownCrash,” Tripp said and smiled.

  The six of us clanked our glasses together, spilling vodka everywhere. We all took our shots and Tripp screamed in celebration and yelled, “Break the glasses!”

  So we all did.

  Just so dumb and random like that, throwing shot glasses at the side wall of the garage, listening to the small pings of glasses shattering.

  “Good… fucking… night…”

  Tripp turned and took Scarlett with him.

  My nerves started to pinch.

  What was I supposed to do?

  I tried to get Maggie’s attention, but she was long lost in Tatum. They were walking their way to the couches near the front of the garage. I shivered wondering how many people had done stuff on those couches. They were probably better off being lit on fire and buying new ones.

  “Shall I take you to your room?” Logan asked with a flirty whisper.

  “Good luck with whatever your mind is telling you,” I said.

  The sad part of it was that my mind was the one filling in the blanks with some wild details that I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  “My mind is telling me that you need to know which room you’re sleeping in,” Logan said. “There’s four bedrooms. One is Tripp and Scarlett’s. Stay far from there.”

  I shook my head and walked to the door of the garage. Logan followed with a smile on his face. I hated him. I really did. In that moment, he could burn in the couch fire for all I cared. He opened the door and we walked down the gravel driveway along the side of the garage in the darkness. The only light came from the moon. The sound of stones moving and crunching beneath our feet was the only sound around.

  I looked at Logan for a second but that was it.

  The air was cool and I didn’t mean to shiver when I did, but it happened.

  Logan put his arm around me, “Are you cold?”

  “Are you making a move?” I shot back.

  “No. My moves are much better than this. This is just me being nice.”

  And yet I didn’t stop him. I didn’t move his arm off me. In fact, I moved closer to him, feeling his hand gripping my shoulder. So strong. So tight. I smelled him, first by accident as I took a deep breath. But after that, I couldn’t get enough of it. I could smell his soap, his cologne, and even the show on him. A little hint of sweat but I didn’t care.

  Once we were inside Tripp’s house, Logan turned on some lights.

  “Kitchen is straight through there. Need anything?”

  “Uh, no,” I said. “I’m well beyond another drink.”

  The short walk from the garage to the house sent that last shot of vodka straight through me.

  Right at the bottom of the steps, I stumbled over nothing. I threw my arms out and yelled like a damn fool. Of course Logan was right there, his hands touching me, catching me as I really did end up almost falling.

  “Wow, and you didn’t even get to the steps yet,” he said.

  That was the last straw for me.

  I had two choices right then.

  I could punch him in the face like I wanted to do so badly… or I could kiss him.

  I kissed him.

  And not just a kiss. I like totall
y slobbered all over him. I felt my lips touch his and I couldn’t help myself as I opened my mouth wanting more. I suddenly realized that this was the first guy I’d kissed since Jared. My mind scrambled to find the date or some kind of timeframe since I had kissed Jared. And each time it did that, I tried to kiss Logan harder, with more passion.

  He quickly pulled me away, ending our kiss in about ten seconds.

  “Hey, Annie,” he said. “I…”

  “Oh, fuck this,” I said and pushed him away from me.

  If I had been sober I could have run up the steps and out of his reach with ease. But when I looked up, I saw three sets of steps for a few seconds. And when I started walking up them, they were like rubber and they were moving.

  I suddenly hated being drunk and hated myself for getting into this position. Now Logan could run off and tell everyone how I got shit faced drunk and kissed him.

  “Annie, wait,” Logan yelled.

  “I hate you,” I said and continued up the steps.

  Logan chased after me, catching up to me a second later. He grabbed my waist and I thrashed at him, almost sending both of us down the steps.

  “Fuck,” he cried out as I felt my elbow connect with his face.

  I turned and saw his eyes burning at me. Not with anger. Not with rage. Not even close.

  He looked at me with care.

  He touched his face.

  I lost control and felt the tears stream down my cheeks.

  “Annie,” Logan whispered, “you don’t have to be in so much pain…”

  “You don’t get it,” I whispered. “I just want to go to bed, okay?”

  “That’s what I was doing,” Logan said. “Helping you…”

  “Whatever,” I said.

  I turned and made it to the top of the steps. Logan was right behind me. I could feel the softest touch of his fingertips to my back as I walked, knowing he was right there with me the entire time.

  I felt like such an idiot. A complete mess of a fool.

  “Take this room,” Logan said.

  He opened the door and turned the light on. I was instantly hit with the smell of Logan.

  “This is kind of my room away from home,” he said. “I have an annoying roommate right now and never sleep at my apartment.”

  “Why have the apartment then?” I asked as if it really freaking mattered.

  “Because I owe it to him as a favor to pay half the rent,” Logan said. “Everything is clean. Stay here so I can get you a bucket in case you puke.”

  I took a step on my own and reached for the bed but was still too far away to do so. Logan’s hands were at my hips again, leaving my body racing.

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “Are you going to swing at me again?” he asked, half joking.

  “Haha… no…”

  I saw the look in his eyes. That caring look again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I’m not like this…”

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  He touched my sides and forced me to sit down. “Stay here.”

  I was eye level with Logan’s belt. But trust me, it wasn’t his belt my mind was interested in right then. He thankfully turned and left the room before I could do anything else stupid.

  I kicked off my shoes and slowly climbed back on the bed. I got under the covers and the second my head touched the pillow, I took a huge breath. The smell of Logan filtered through my entire body. It left my body aching. My toes curled, and I was so turned on, I could even feel my panties pulling at me. I tried to chase all the thoughts away but any sense of rationale was long gone thanks to the vodka.

  Logan came back into the room with a white bucket and a towel. He put it next to the bed and when he bent over, I noticed the way his shirt pulled up. I saw something on his right side and pointed to it.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  Leave it to drunk Annie to just barge into people’s personal lives, right?

  Logan stood up and looked around. “What?”

  “On your side,” I said. “You don’t have a tattoo or something, do you?”

  “No,” Logan said. “Not at all. I leave the tattoos and piercings to the other guys.”

  “Well, what is it?” I insisted.

  “Annie, get some sleep.”

  Logan turned the light off and walked back to the bed and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. It was the perfect amount of light… for… well, a guy and girl to have in a room together, alone.

  “No, I won’t get some sleep,” I said and started to sit up.

  Logan reached for me and I swatted his hand out of the way.

  “Annie…”

  “Logan…”

  We looked at each other. He slowly touched me again. His fingers touching my cheek. He shook his head and smiled.

  “You are so complicated,” he said. “And I barely know you.”

  “You don’t know a thing,” I said.

  “I do,” Logan said. “You’re holding onto time for comfort because you’re afraid to let something - or someone - go.” I opened my mouth but Logan wasn’t done talking. “The same reason why I have the roommate I do.”

  “You know what? Whatever.”

  Logan laughed. “Whatever…” He mocked me and curled his lip. “You want to see whatever? You want to know about whatever?”

  Logan stood from the bed and for a second I saw him leaving. I saw him storming out of the room and slamming the door. Sure, I had been pushing him - maybe from the second I met him and his beautiful eyes - wanting him to storm away, but did I really want him to leave?

  No.

  I wanted him to be there.

  To stay with me.

  To talk to me.

  To never give up on me.

  I wanted the attention and I thought I deserved it.

  Logan stood for a few seconds looking at me. I could tell he debated on what to do. What I expected was him to tell me something important. What I didn’t expect was for him to tear his shirt off his body. As it went up and over his head, my jaw dropped. I wanted to say something but my breath was stolen for a few seconds.

  His body was clean and toned.

  Like really toned.

  I could see the outlines of every possible muscle imaginable. He turned just the top half of his body, making his stomach muscles flex in such a way that I knew I’d never forget it. He lifted his arm and showed me what I had been wanting to see.

  The jagged line coming out of his pants was a scar.

  “Oh, shit,” I said. “Logan… what happened?”

  “Well, it’s a two part story,” he said. “One that involves my grandfather saving me and one involving music saving me.”

  I swallowed and sat up. My head spun and hurt, but I forced myself to focus on Logan. I wanted to hear everything. I hated to admit that I enjoyed seeing someone else in pain, but I did. Especially Logan. I thought maybe he and I could connect like Scarlett and Tripp did.

  “I was born with some problems,” Logan said.

  I laughed. I didn’t mean to, but the way he said it…

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “It’s cool. Whatever. But I needed surgery right after I was born. Everything went well, obviously, but that was sort of the beginning. When I was six, I woke up with pain everywhere. I don’t remember much of being a kid, but I remember that pain. It was everywhere inside me. So bad that I eventually blacked out from it. I was rushed to the hospital and went into surgery again. I had an infection or something, I don’t remember that part of it. Just the pain. So much fucking pain. Even after the surgery and even with the medicine, there was so much pain. I figured everyone just assumed it was me being a baby, right? Like I didn’t know what real pain felt like.”

  “Christ, Logan,” I said. “Were you okay?”

  “I’m here right now,” Logan said. “So you obviously know the ending to the story.”

  I smiled. “Keep going then.”

  “If things couldn’t get worse, I s
ort of slipped into a coma.”

  “A coma?”

  “Well, not really a coma… but something like it. I wouldn’t respond. I wouldn’t eat. I was moved to ICU and doctors just said I had to wait it out. Whatever the fuck that meant. But that’s when music took over my life, Annie.”

  “While you were sleeping?”

  “My grandfather,” Logan said.

  Logan sat on the bed and turned the top half of his body to face me. I tried so hard to keep my eyes on his eyes and not his amazing muscles. It occurred to me that Logan may have been one of those guys that didn’t actually realize how hot he was.

  Talk about driving me wild.

  “He came to my room to see me every single day,” Logan said. “My parents worked and never stopped working. My mother was a nurse and my father a lawyer. Kind of sad because it was like a storybook life for me. You know? Nice house. Nice neighborhood. That kind of stuff. But behind the big house and big bedroom and all that shit, it was terrible inside my house. My father drank, my mother took pills, they fought each other - sometimes literally - and sometimes they fought about me. I was… well, I was a mistake…”

  “No,” Annie. “No. Never think that.”

  “Oh, I don’t need to think it,” Logan said. “I was told that my whole life. My parents planned on having kids later but I came and fucked up their plan. And later when they tried to have more kids, they couldn’t. Turned into a big mess and my father ended up leaving and having three kids with another woman.”

  My stomach turned and it had nothing to do with the vodka.

  Logan got it. He understood what I went through. To watch someone walk away and start a new life with the snap of fingers. Just how Jared had.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “Nobody said you had to say anything,” Logan said. “That’s long after my hospital stay. Back at the hospital… my grandfather came everyday to be with me. He would tell me stories, read me comics, watch cartoons. I don’t remember the cartoons but I remember him laughing. He had a little whistle in his laugh. Sometimes when he’d really get into it, laughing hard I mean, we would joke and yell, “The tea’s done!”. He started bringing his guitar to the hospital. He would play for hours, strumming chords, plucking notes, singing songs to me. Granted, he wasn’t the greatest guitar player in the world, but he just kept going and going. I swear to you, Annie, that’s what brought me out of it all. I woke up and slowly started to get better. Two weeks later when I was sent home, my parents asked me if I needed anything.