by M. J. Fields
“Then you should have taken it off yourself if it was so hot,” Lexington tells him.
Everyone laughs, except London.
“That was funny,” Lexington whispers to her. “I was funny, like you’re supposed to be.”
“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Emma asks London.
She nods, and the smile appears. “I was just thinking it was a good thing CJ did, actually. You see”—she leans forward and tosses a thumb at me—“this one’s roommate led Christy to believe he liked her, then went after my other roommate Jamie.”
Tessa smiles. “Lucas’s Jamie?”
London nods. “Yep. I have the coolest friends in the world finally, and”—she shrugs—“I’m lying to them, and it’s wrong. But it’ll come to light, and I will be that girl all the little bitches from here said I was, only for real now.”
“London, you said bitches,” Lexington whispers.
“Sorry, Lexington. I’m just...” She shrugs. “I’m over it.”
“Then come home,” Lexington pleads.
“I’m sure I will end up back here sooner than later.”
“No one is going to find out, London,” Brody begins. “We’ve made sure—”
She laughs angrily and glares at me. “You know how cute you all thought it was that I had what may have been a little crush on him?”
Lexington giggles nervously, while I keep looking into her glacial stare.
“Well, all those bimbos from around here morphed into bimbos up there, and because you can’t stop trying to tell me what to do, or exposing my ‘innocence’ ”—she air quotes in front of an entire party—“I have the zombie apocalypse of plastic-enhanced sleaze buckets trying to find out who the girl is that The Missing Links is spending way too much time with instead of spreading around—” She stops herself.
“Spreading around what?” Lexington asks.
“Football cheer,” she answers.
“Like Christmas cheer at football time?”
“Exactly like that.” London nods then looks back at me.
“I didn’t mean to tell them you were a”—I pause and air quote—“ ‘innocent’.”
“But you did!” she yells at me. “You made me look like a complete and total idiot.”
“Well, had you listened to me and not played water pong with such large ‘stakes,’ maybe it wouldn’t have happened,” I retort.
“Well, maybe if you weren’t drinking so much ‘Kool-Aid,’ you’d have thought before you spoke.”
I hear Matthew and CJ chuckle and turn to glare at them.
“You two.” CJ laughs. “Man, this has been coming for years. Time to—”
“What exactly has been coming?” Brody asks.
CJ smirks. “Sorry to be the one to shed light on this subject, but London is way more Ross than you seem to realize.”
“Meaning?” Brody snarls.
“Meaning she’s full of piss and vinegar.” Dad laughs.
“I can assure you, Dad,” London says, leaning over to get a better look at him, “you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Brody’s eyes widen as he looks at me. “Better fucking not.”
“Dad, you said—”
“Don’t you even, young lady,” Emma interrupts her.
“I suggest the two of you go discuss this as adults in the other room,” Maddox finally pipes in.
“I think they’re good right here,” Brody says firmly.
“I messed up last night. I’m sorry, London. It was wrong. I was drinking—”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t drink!” she snaps.
I nod. “Maybe not.”
She pushes her chair back and walks out of the room.
I start to stand when Brody clears his throat. “On what planet would exposing one’s innocence amongst drunken football players be a way to protect a girl?”
“He said he was wrong and apologized. Damn sure drove all this way to do just that since he had no intentions of coming home, Hines,” my dad says, trying to keep his cool.
“I could also suggest the two of you”—Maddox points at Dad and Brody—“go discuss this as adults in a completely different room than them.”
Emma and Tessa smirk at each other. Shocks the hell out of me that Emma isn’t pissed.
“Might I suggest that I am loving the scholarly effects college is having on my husband who was once worse than them.” Harper leans over and kisses Maddox’s cheek.
“Sweetness, you may, but understand I’m still the same man you first met.” He winks.
“Only better.” She sighs and looks down at their new baby. “I can only imagine what you will become.”
No way will that ever be me, and that’s exactly what she deserves.
I walk outside and toward London, who is sitting under a tree.
She looks down, focusing on anything but me.
She looks cold. Those little sweaters she wears are thin as hell.
She looks fucking broken, but still beautiful.
I take off my jacket, throw it over her head, and start to sit when she whips it at me.
“Wow, I really—” I stop when she looks up. Her eyes aren’t hurt; they are angry.
“I don’t want to be around you. I don’t, Logan.”
“I said sorry, London. I mean it, too. I fucked up. I didn’t mean to say whatever it is I said.”
“That’s great,” she says and starts to stand.
I grip her knee. “I need this to be better, okay? And I need you to tell me the shit I don’t remember.”
“Is that what you need, Logan? What you want?”
“Fuck yes, it is. I don’t want this.” I reach up to pull my missing fucking hat down because I’m not sure what all this is, but I sure as fuck don’t need to expose myself any more than I must.
She’s not saying a word, so I fucking start.
“I’m sorry I didn’t invite you, but I thought you were going home.”
She huffs.
“I’m sorry about the chick in the bathroom, too.”
Her head pops up. “Do you think that’s why I’m not interested in being your friend?”
“I think we both know that it’s—”
“You called me pathetic.”
“London, I’m...”
She bats a tear away. I want to be the one to do that, but when I reach out to do so, she bats my hand away, too. It feels like the hardest hit I have ever taken.
“You said it like my dad used to say it to my mom.”
“London—”
“You were so loud, purposely so, that everyone heard you degrading and demeaning me. Everyone.”
I shake my head, my chest heating up. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You took some sort of sick pride in it.”
“I assure you, I didn—”
She crushes her hands against her chest. “You poked fun of me being a virgin. And I know dating was rough around here, but I wouldn’t have given that up to any of them. To me, it’s...” She stops talking and looks down, tears rolling off her cheeks.
“Wherever my head was when I said that, London, it wasn’t—”
“Just shut up, okay? Just...” She tries to stand again, but I won’t let her.
“I want to know more. I want you to tell me all the ways I fucked up, so I don’t do it again.”
She settles back down and pushes my hand off her. “You were violent. You threw a whole table on its side.”
I want to tell her this is when things get blurry, but I don’t want her to stop talking. I have to know what happened.
“I became violent. I pushed you! I put my hands on you and—”
“Guarantee I deserved it.”
“That’s not the point!” she screams louder than ever.
“Please don’t go.” I close my eyes. “Please.”
“You held me in your room and demanded I shower. I didn’t give a damn that I was covered in beer, but you wouldn’t let me go. You forced me into the
shower and—”
“Did I touch you?” I growl.
“No! But it was wrong, Logan.”
Relief floods through me.
“When I came out...” She stops and looks at me, shaking her head.
“Is this when you pulled the girl out of the room?” I ask quietly.
She looks at her restless hands. “After I heard you talking to her, calling her my name,” she whispers.
“What did I say?” My hands ball into fists.
“Doesn’t matter. You just—”
“Does to me,” I interrupt.
“You said I created a beast. You said you wouldn’t fuck me. You said you couldn’t. You said my name. You said London, and that’s the only reason I knew she was taking advantage of you.”
I have no fucking clue what to say.
“She tried to...” She stops. “She was going to...” She stops again. “You were so messed up. You...” This time, she looks at me. “You could have gotten a disease, gotten her pregnant, so many things could have happened, and she should go to jail. She should, and you told me to be quiet. You told me to be quiet, and you almost fell asleep standing out in the living room after I got rid of her, and then I had to help you in bed, and then you said you were sorry, and then you wouldn’t let go of me, so I just laid there and waited for you to fall asleep.”
“So, I didn’t...?” I clear my throat. “I didn’t touch you? Nothing happened between us? Between you and I?”
All sadness dissipates as she gives me a one-word, unemotional response. “No.”
“If I crossed a line, you need to tell me. I need to know.”
“You crossed many, but no, you didn’t touch me. You passed out, and then I waited till I could get the hell out of there.”
“How did you get home?”
“We walked.”
“You fucking walked!”
She huffs. “You lost any sort of clout you had with me last night, Logan. You don’t get to lord over me. You don’t get to pretend we’re friends—”
“That’s the thing, London. We are friends. You and I are—”
“We’re nothing.”
“Well, I won’t accept it,” I snap.
“We were never friends, Logan. That fact came across loud and clear last night.” Her face distorts from sadness to disgust. “I would never let anyone who could do that get that close to me.”
“I was fucking shit-faced, London.”
“You were shit-faced and mean to me. Anyone I call friend would know that was unacceptable and respect me enough they would never, never, ever, ever do that to me.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not your father, London.”
“You were last night.”
She stands, and now I know this is done. I know it is, and I can’t blame her.
“I will never choose a man like that as a friend or otherwise, so I beg you to leave me alone so maybe, maybe I can get through college not feeling less than. Because people in general suck, and they love making others hurt just to feel better about themselves.”
“Let me say one thing,” I call to her retreating back.
She stops, turns around, and looks at me as I stand up. Then she throws her hands in the air when I take too long. “What?”
“Unacceptable.”
She palms her face and groans.
I jog up to her.
Fuck it, just fuck it.
I hug her. I fucking hug her and tell her again, “I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry. I’m so sorry I wish I could say it in a million different languages, hoping one will fix what I did. I will leave you the hell alone. Well, I’ll try. Fuck, London, I don’t know, but we’re gonna see each other and shit. I won’t...I won’t do...you know.”
She clears her throat and steps back. “Logan, I need you to stay away.”
November Rain
London
On Thursday nights, we still do Quad Squad karaoke after lab, and I still enjoy it...until Logan and Mitch show up, which they do every week. Then I’m more uncomfortable and feel more judged than I ever have.
The first night, he simply sat there, at what is now “our” regular table, looking at me until I couldn’t stand it anymore. When I went to the bathroom, he followed me.
“If this isn’t cool, you let me know.”
My response was simple. “This isn’t cool.”
“Tell me how to make it...cool.”
I walked into the bathroom, and he was waiting outside when I came out.
“Still not cool,” I whispered as I walked by.
Ten minutes later, he was on stage, singing Bruno Mars’ “Count On Me.” For three weeks, he has done the same song. Every time, the entire table looks at me expectantly.
Jamie asked me the first night why I was being so hard on him. I wanted to ask her why she wasn’t being hard on Mitch anymore, but I didn’t, even though I really want to know.
It’s Thursday night again, and just like last week, I can’t bring myself to go, so I left lab with Fletcher, telling them I didn’t feel well again.
Once in the Uber, he asks me the same question he did the week before. “You wanna talk about it?”
I give him the same answer I did the week before, knowing no man wants to go there. “Cramps.”
“Wow, maybe you should see a doctor,” he says with a humorous undertone in his voice.
“I just don’t feel well.”
“Anything to do with Links and the signs?”
“What signs?” I ask.
He looks at me and raises his eyebrows while I wait for an answer.
“Fletcher, what signs?”
He runs his fingers through his waves and sighs. “I truly thought you knew.”
“Fletcher, spill it.”
“The ones posted on the outside of your quad every morning until a week ago when I announced that we now had cameras in the hallway.”
“Stop being vague.”
“Okay, then.” His face tightens. “V Squad.”
“Logan hangs signs on our door that says V Squad!”
He answers more softly, “No, Elle, Logan’s been taking them down.”
“I don’t understand. Who would do that?” And why does Logan even care?
He looks down. “When I talked to your friends, they told me about the, um, party.”
I palm my face and groan. “Why didn’t they tell me?”
“I’m sure it was to spare your feelings. For what it’s worth, I think it’s amazing that a girl like you would wait for the right one.”
“A girl like me?” God, I can only imagine what he must think of “a girl like me.”
“You are stunning, talented, funny, kind, and I’m sure you’ve had dozens of men vying for your attention, and yet, you haven’t given in.”
Pft, yeah right. None stuck around, and the only one I care about is an ass.
“And, for what it’s worth, I think what he did was very kind and truly sincere.”
“So, what? I should forgive him for what he did?”
“Forgive him so you can stop faking sick every Thursday night and enjoy what is left of the semester. You’ve missed two home games, two weeks of karaoke, and have spent every night in your dorm. Every time I saw you in the dining hall, you were so full of life, Elle. Now you don’t eat with your friends. Forgive him for you.” He pats my hand.
I don’t respond.
He gets out of the Uber and opens the door for me.
“Thanks.”
When I get out, he places his hand on my back and we start toward the door.
“You got a minute?” I hear Logan from behind me.
Fletcher removes his hand and nods to me. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”
I turn around and look at Logan. He looks like Logan always does, but instead of the overconfident, cocky jock who seems to own every place he stands, he looks nervous and out of place.
He takes in a deep breath then walks toward me. “Walk wi
th me?” he asks, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.
I consider telling him no, but then I think of what Fletcher said.
After a couple minutes of walking in silence, he stops and pulls his hat down. “I can’t fucking do this with you.” His voice is just a notch above a whisper. “I can’t fuck up your Thursdays, but I can’t stay away either. I can’t look up at Dad’s seats, not see you there, and focus. I can’t because, as much as I hate to say it, you are family, London. You are, and you hating me...it’s gotta fucking stop.” He turns his back to me and crouches down covering his hat with his hands.
I remain still, unable to say a word.
He then stands up and turns around. “Tell me what to do.”
I swallow hard and look away.
“Come on, London; tell me what the fuck I can do, because you and I, we...we don’t do this shit. We fuck with each other, we act pissy with each other. I always thought it annoyed the hell out of me until it was gone, until you were gone.”
I shake my head.
“Unacceptable!” he yells.
I turn to walk away, and he grabs me from behind and pulls me back, so my back is against his front. He wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on the top of my head.
“All those years we fought, we should have been doing this, London. No one fucking knows you like I do. No one fucking knows me like you do. I know I’m not even close to being that guy. Hell, that guy may be Fletcher, and if it is, I swear I’ll stay the fuck out of it. But you gotta stop avoiding me. Because me without you, something’s missing. Me without you sucks.”
“I forgive you,” I say as my body shakes in a silent sob.
He turns me around, and I swear I see tears building in his eyes. “Forgive me or you’ll stop avoiding me? Because you avoiding me is worse than you hating on me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I whisper, looking down.
“You said it. You said it a lot.” He sighs.
“Well, then I’m sorry for that,” I tell him, looking up.
His hands are still on my hips, and I put my hands over his, trying to make myself push them away. “Logan.”
His nostrils flare as his jaw muscles twitch. He leans in, and I can see it. I can see what he’s about to do. I have dreamt of it for years, so many years. It’s better than in my dreams, so much better.
