A Reputation Dark & Deadly (A Dark & Deadly Series Book 2)

by Heather C. Myers

  Plus, she didn't want to think about the kiss or the odd public display of affection. She didn't want to think about any of it anymore. She knew if she tried to rationalize or go deeper than normal, she would be like a dog chasing its tail and end up nowhere. Tonight was about fun and that was what she focused on.

  Peyton looked at herself in the mirror one last time. "No more thinking about Logan Jeffrey," she told herself before turning away and heading out for the night.

  Rikki looked fabulous, as usual. She had dark auburn hair that was naturally straight - something Peyton was jealous about - and chopped bangs that hung into her dark eyes. She wore cherry-red lipstick which clashed nicely with her pale skin tone. She wasn't as tall as Peyton was and, in everyday life, she preferred dark colors and ripped denim, adding an edge to her doll-like face. On occasion, she wore black baggy hoodies that made her look grumpy and hid her slender figure, but for the most part, she flaunted what she had.

  The party was across campus and deep into the student housing which was a good twenty-minute walk. The night was cold and bitter so the girls walked fast in order to keep warm. Rikki had a tight black dress that was more club-like than Peyton's innocent number - it almost looked like Peyton going to church and Rikki was going to a club.

  It was easy to tell where the party was located a block away due to the noise and the number of cars hanging out in front of the white fraternity house. There were already plastic red cups littering the grass and a puke stain on the driveway. Peyton furrowed her nose at the sight and her stomach twisted with unease. Suddenly, she wasn't as sure as she used to be whether or not she wanted to be here.

  "I'm so excited," Rikki murmured, grabbing Peyton's arm and squeezing her affectionately. Her breath fizzled into the air, a stark white against the black night. "After that awful undergrad year, I'm ready for a new start."

  "And this is where you want to get it?" Peyton asked, raising a questioning brow. She couldn't help the sarcasm but this was not the place to start over. It was a place for distractions and for forgetting, for pretending for a moment, but not the reality of day to day life.

  Rikki rolled her eyes and dropped Peyton's arm. "Come on, Peyton," she said. "Please don't lecture me tonight. After what happened sophomore year, I really need this."

  Peyton gave her a look and was glad it was too dark to decipher. "I didn't realize that whole Logan Jeffrey thing still bugged you," she murmured. She wasn't sure if she was speaking to herself or if she actually wanted to have a conversation about Logan Jeffrey with Rikki. She was worried she might let something slip and she definitely didn't want to hear about how Logan had stared at Rikki and how she really thought he was interested in her. An unpleasant feeling settled on her back, sliding slowly down her spine, until Peyton physically shifted her weight and shook the feeling off.

  "Of course it still bugs me, Peyton," Rikki said, shaking her head. She reached into her purse and pulled out a cigarette. Peyton almost lectured her about smoking in someone else's house without asking for their permission, but upon reaching walkway to the front door, the strong, pungent scent of weed hit her like a wall of bricks and she kept her opinion to herself. "I thought I was in love with the guy." Rikki lit her cigarette and took a long drag, making sure to exhale away from Peyton. "He kept staring at me all throughout class. I heard he had a thing for brunettes. I mean, all his TA's are brunette." She flicked her gaze at Peyton, almost accusingly. "Except you."

  Peyton was saved from having to respond because they reached the front door. Peyton was never sure what proper etiquette dictated when it came to parties. Did they knock? Did they just go in? Rikki, on the other hand, had no qualms with sticking her cigarette in her mouth and opening the door without announcing their presence.

  They stepped inside and Peyton felt her body tense on its own. The older fraternity house was white with dark accessories. The floor was a chestnut wood and the hallways were narrow though the rooms were wide and had a lot of space to occupy. It was just after eleven, so the hallways were filled with students, leaning, sitting, some even lying on the floor. Red cups littered the hallways, the tickling scent of spilled beer and hard alcohol filling her senses.

  "Hello!"

  A deep male voice came upon Peyton and Rikki and Peyton spun around instinctively. The student, probably a couple of years younger than she was, started laughing at her reaction.

  "Whoa, lady, no need to react that way," he said. He had to shout due to the heavy bass music. "We're all friendly here. Can I get you a beer? Can I get you a drink? Some pot's going on upstairs if that's more your thing."

  "It's not," Peyton said flatly.

  "God, you're such a wet blanket," Rikki muttered, rolling her eyes. She took another drag of her cigarette as the guy - whose name Peyton still didn't know - threw his head back and laughed. For a moment, Peyton wondered if his overly dramatic reactions were genuine or if they were drunk cries for attention. Then, she realized she didn't particularly care. "We'll take two rubies."

  "What's a ruby?" Peyton asked, shifting her eyes over to the guy, like he was going to help her. He gave her a wink and disappeared. Peyton hoped he didn't think he was being mysterious.

  Rikki rolled her eyes. "Come on, Peyton," she got out. "I know you're a virgin but you can't be that innocent."

  Peyton's eyes shot to the retreating figure of the guy. He stopped upon hearing the word virgin but didn't say anything. In fact, he didn't even look back and instead, continued to press through, going to fetch them their drinks.

  "I'm going home," Peyton said, throwing her arms up, her eyes throwing daggers at her friend. "Enjoy your misery, Rikki."

  "Okay, okay, okay." Rikki shut her heavily-lined eyes before slowly opening them and giving Peyton a soft look. "I'm sorry. I just haven't been all that happy. This whole grad school thing isn't what I thought."

  "Because you didn't get Logan as your advisor?" Peyton asked before she could stop herself.

  "Logan?" Rikki asked, furrowing his brow. "You're on a first-name basis?" She cut her eyes over to Peyton suspiciously before narrowing her eyes. "What does he call you?"

  "What?" Peyton asked, shifting due to the direction of where this conversation was going.

  "He calls everyone something," she explained slowly. "He called me Braids because I always had at least three or four braids in my hair during undergrad. I thought it was a term of endearment but..." She shook her head. "What does he call you?"

  Peyton thought long and hard about how she should respond. She knew that if she told her what Logan called her, it would start a fight. Rikki would get offended and huffy and storm off, probably abandoning her at the party in some way. Peyton would be upset and annoyed but not enough to leave her friend, especially since they came together. However, her night would be miserable and tonight was not about Logan Jeffrey indirectly making her night worse rather than better. She would not allow him to cause a rift between her and her friend. On the other hand, she also didn't want to lie to Rikki. Not only was she bad at it, but Rikki had this innate ability to find out the truth, no matter what that was.

  Before Peyton could respond with anything, the guy showed back up with two red cups in his hands.

  "What is this?" Peyton asked, tentatively taking the cup and looking at its contents with uncertainty.

  "A ruby," he said. "The name's Chuck. I'm a senior and one of the members of this frat."

  "Rikki," Rikki said and nodded over at Peyton. "Peyton."

  "Peyton Hart?" Chuck looked back at Peyton with an appreciative stare. "You're Jeffrey's TA, right? My little brothers taking his 101 class and wouldn't shut up about the hot TA in short shorts." His eyes dropped to take her in, his eyes taking over her before he met her gaze once again. Peyton shifted under the scrutiny, put off by the fact this guy thought he had the right to look at her this way just because his teenage brother saw her in a pair of shorts. "Wait, you're not sleeping with Jeffrey, are you?"

  "Excuse me?" Peyton's voice
was flat and unflinching, her eyes narrowed and unmoving.

  Rikki, on the other hand, reacted by throwing her head back to laugh. "Yeah, right," she did. She had stomped out her cigarette and was now taking long, quick gulps of her drink. "Logan Jeffrey isn't interested in the good girl, and Peyton here is the purest grad student you'll ever meet. See her dress?"

  Chuck swept his eyes back over to Peyton, his lips cocked up into a grin. Peyton squeezed the red cup within her hand, trying to ignore the fact that not only had her friend outed her as a virgin but she was laughing because Rikki thought someone like her didn't have a chance with Logan Jeffrey.

  What the hell was that supposed to mean?

  "Maybe," Chuck said slowly, "but I hear she's his only TA because he's arrogant as shit and nobody likes him. Desperate times and all that." He shrugged his shoulders.

  "I'm sorry," Peyton said, unable to keep quiet any longer. Her forest green gaze hardened to emerald as she looked at the frat kid. "Are you saying that if Logan Jeffrey were sleeping with me, it's only because he's desperate?"

  Chuck looked at Peyton and realization dawned on him that perhaps his choice of diction wasn't conducive to getting laid. He started to stutter, trying to backtrack and Rikki started laughing.

  "Peyton isn't bad to look at," Rikki said, after swallowing another sip, "she's just not his type. He likes more experienced girls. Not angels."

  Without thinking, Peyton took a long sip of her drink. Her throat burned and tears blurred her vision because of how strong the drink was, but she didn't care. She would show Rikki just how angelic she could be.

  Peyton hated drinking. Before tonight, she had only gotten drunk once before during her freshman year of college. She had a crush on one of the basketball players and had been to the majority of their games, including the away games. They had invited her to their after-season party and she ended up being an idiot, mixing beer with liquor, and getting completely drunk to the point where she started throwing up at the party. Before then, however, her crush took her upstairs and started making out with her, expecting it to go further than just that. Luckily, Peyton was still able to say no and the guy left her by herself.

  The next day, while Peyton suffered through her hangover, she promised herself that she would never get that bad again.

  Until tonight.

  Peyton was on her third ruby and couldn't walk right. Chuck hung onto her like a shadow and wouldn't get away from her no matter how much she tried. He wasn't that bad so she didn't think much of it until he took her upstairs. She didn't really have any idea what was going on. She was just going through the motions and it felt good to just let loose. She danced on tables with Rikki and it was nice to see Rikki smile. The only problem was, Rikki saw this as the perfect opportunity to start complaining about Logan which inspired Peyton to drink even more because she really didn't want to hear about Logan tonight.

  "I'm not having sex with you," Peyton mumbled, her head light and bubbly, fizzing like a soda can.

  Chuck looked down at her and gave her a soft smile, curling an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I know," he told her. The door was closed but there wasn't light; instead, shadows crossed over the lone bed in the middle of the room, the only piece of furniture present. The clouds were dark and grey, as though rain could spill from them at any moment, making the space more foreboding than it really was. Or maybe that was just Peyton's drunken stupor that was causing him to think this way.

  "It's your first time," he continued. His breath was in her face and it smelled like the strong scent of alcohol. Peyton's stomach twisted in silent protest. "You want it special. I can make it special for you. I promise."

  His words took a moment to sink into Peyton, which gave Chuck time to bend his head down and kissed her neck. Something in her churned and she wasn't sure if it was because of what he said or the fact that he was invading her space with his mouth.

  "No, no." She shook her head and tried to push him off of her but he was too strong and too solid. The alcohol wasn't affecting him the same way it was affecting her, making him impossible to move. "I said no."

  "I know," Chuck said, "and that's what we can tell everyone. You said no."

  Peyton shook her head. He wasn't understanding what he was saying. He didn't realize she was being serious. Her heart started to flutter and her stomach twisted even more. Fear shot through her. Was she going to get raped? Where the hell was Rikki? Why had Peyton consumed so much alcohol? Because of Logan Jeffrey? So not worth it.

  God, she was so stupid. So goddamn stupid.

  "No," she said, shaking her head. That did a number on her only because her head was already buzzing and moving it in any capacity blurred her vision and caused her nausea to double. How the hell was she supposed to get out of this? What was she going to do? "No, no, no."

  Chuck didn't even respond to her. Instead, he straddled her waist and leaned over to start kissing her neck. His fingers, soft and warm, started playing with one of the straps of her dress. She reached up to try and push him off but he always took her wrists in his hands and pushed them away, like they were little annoyances easily swatted away. However, the fact that she continued her ministrations, the fact that she didn't just stop caused Chuck to misjudge his grip on the strap, and without warning, he snapped the flimsy scrap of material so it ripped.

  "Oh, crap," he said, giving Peyton a look with his slate-blue eyes. "Look what you made me do."

  "Well, maybe if you stopped like I told you, you wouldn't have ripped my fucking dress!" Peyton had no idea why she was yelling. She had no idea why she was suddenly enraged. She could feel the heat get to her face and she was absolutely positive that her face was beet red.

  At that moment, the door was kicked in, the wood crunching under the sturdy boot of whoever it was that had knocked it in. Peyton's gaze was blurry but she blinked once, twice, until she made out a tall, domineering figure that looked vaguely familiar but entirely out of place. She could make out her black hair, a black jacket, and fury on his chiseled face.

  "Excuse my fucking French, you piece of shit, but I was under the impression that no meant no in every fucking language." That gravelly voice, like sandpaper over sharp rocks. Peyton blinked, still not fully believing that Logan Jeffrey was standing in a fraternity house. Why was he here? How did he know to find her? "If you don't get off of her now, I will smash your face in."

  "I could fire you," Chuck said, but his voice quivered and he got off of her without hesitation.

  "Did you just fucking threaten me?" Logan asked, placing his hands on his hips. It was hard for Peyton to see straight but she could see the anger in his tawny gaze and she was grateful that he wasn't employing that look at her. She never wanted him to look at her that way. "You know, not only do I having fucking tenure, I was preventing you from committing fucking rape. Are they really going to believe a low life piece of shit frat boy over a distinguished professor?" He raised his eyebrow. "Get the fuck out before I decide to break you."

  Chuck looked like he wanted to argue. However, he thought better of it and scrambled off, leaving Peyton alone with Logan. He turned to her, clenching his jaw. His eyes found hers and they were mixed with annoyance, a little sprinkle of anger, but more than anything, disappointment.

  "You're fucking better than this," he said, his voice so low Peyton felt a prickle of fear to creep up in the back of her head. She changed her mind about the way Logan had glared at Chuck. She would rather take that look over this solemn look of disappointment any day. He shifted his feet. "Can you walk?"

  Peyton nodded. She blinked once more, trying to get a hold of her senses. Her head was still spinning but she pushed herself into a sitting position and forced herself to stand. Immediately she lost balance and stumbled forward. If Logan hadn't caught her, she would have fallen face-first into the grey carpet beneath her feet.

  His arms wrapped around her frame, steadying her with gentle prodding. She was surprised how warm they were as he wrappe
d his arm around her waist, and before Peyton could think too much about it, she felt herself start to relax against his touch. Her forehead hit his arm and her eyes slipped close. He was nice and warm and comfortable, and it wasn't long before she felt slumber's unrelenting grip tug on her consciousness.

  "Oh, shit."

  His voice seemed far away, which was odd since his mouth was close to her ear.

  Before she realized what was happening, he swooped her up in his arms, like she was his bride, and started heading out of the room. He didn't seem to care that people would see him leave with her; he didn't even seem to care that he was here in the first place. Without meaning to, Peyton found the perfect place for her head - right under his arm - and quickly fell into a heavy sleep.

  To say Logan was pissed would be an understatement. When Karla called him and told him that Peyton was acting like a fool at a stupid fraternity party and some guy was following her like he was her goddamn shadow, his blood boiled. He was at the batting cages - an activity he partook in four days of the week. It helped clear his head and relieve any stress of tension that accumulated throughout the day and the week. It was an activity that he did not like to be disturbed during ; it was his only time of solitude. He didn't have to think about anything or anyone. All he needed to do was snack the balls as hard as he could.