Page 7

7

LOGAN

“ C ome with me.”

Three little words that I’d probably always follow. Quentin hopped off the stool and held out his hand, and of course, I took it.

He was straightforward, kind, and complimented me the same way Jordan did.

Despite my own assumptions about him and athletes, he surprised me. I could totally see myself having a crush on him if it weren’t for the whole mess of my own life and the fact he said he didn’t date.

We were two peas in a pod, not preferring to date anyone because we’d self-proclaimed our lives were a mess. I had questions about his, a million of them, but tonight was about Rebecca and Gage.

“Okay, boss,” I quipped, setting my hand in his. His was rougher than mine and much bigger. I liked how he kept his thumb out of the embrace and on my wrist, like a nice little layer of extra protection. That spot on my body was super sensitive too. Every time he brushed his thumb over it, I wanted to squeal.

Jordan told me to enjoy the moment while here, experience the party to the fullest, and I definitely hadn’t yet. I had too many questions and worries. But as Quentin led me through the basement, back up the stairs, I took it all in. The laughter and people drinking. The music and the way people danced. The couples making out in corners and not caring that everyone saw them.

The groups of friends all hanging on each other, amused and having a good time.

I even snuck a glance at Rebecca, who watched us with a furrowed brow. My heart slammed as she grabbed her phone. Is she texting Gage? Would he show up here?

Did I want him to?

No.

I didn’t.

“Here.” He stopped us as we neared a table with a ton of bottles all over it. Some were on ice, others sat already opened. “Rule number one—never accept a drink from someone you don’t trust. And if you can find a bottle unopened already, that’s better.”

He held up two bottles of beer and winked. “Beer is best tonight. Especially if you aren’t a partyer.”

He opened the can and passed it to me, cracking his next. “Cheers, girlfriend.”

“Cheers,” I repeated, admiring the shape of his arm and the bulge of his muscles while he took a large swig. Figuring I should do the same, I took a small sip and tried not to wince. It burned. Tasted like socks and bread. “Mm.” I faked, holding the beer up again. “So great.”

“Jesus.” He snatched the bottle from me, his lips quirking up. “You’re a shit liar.”

“Yeahhh, that’s one of my flaws. I can’t fake a thing.” I shrugged, oddly at peace with him knowing I didn’t like beer. Gage would want me to finish it or at least hold it. He’d disregard my feelings and worry about reputation.

“Don’t fake anything with me, got it?” His eyes flashed. “That sounded dirty, but I do mean it. We have no reason to lie to each other.”

“I faked a lot with Gage,” I teased, wanting to see what happened. His nostrils flared before he shook his head, glancing toward the crowd at the front of the house. “I pretended to like pineapples on pizza, that I found The Office funny, and that I really liked him using gel. I faked it all. ”

Quentin’s dimples popped out as he turned toward me, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Those green babies looked like emeralds with how the light hit off them. “You’re a brat.”

“Eh, I’ll accept that term of endearment.”

“If you don’t like beer, what would you like to try?”

“Honestly, I’m alright. I’m not a big drinker.”

His jaw tensed, and the same gross feeling I got around Gage returned. My stomach clenched, and I clasped my hands together, wishing I hadn’t said it. Gage would ridicule me for even coming to the party, and the thought of disappointing Quentin had my stomach aching. “Sorry, I?—”

“Don’t apologize for a thing, Logan. I wished you would’ve told me that. I wouldn’t have made you try one.” He pursed his lips and reached up with one hand to cup the side of my face. “Do not try to appease me or guess what you think I want you to say. I want your truths, that’s it.”

“Even if they aren’t what you want?” I whispered, hating the self-doubt and leftover esteem issues. I was so used to being what Gage wanted that this was new.

He blinked slowly again, and when he opened his eyes, the greens softened. His thumb stroked my jaw in gentle circles as he said, “I really want to know the real you. Not someone else’s version. Now, if you need some time to get used to that, that’s fine. We’ll be friends doing this for a few months, and I’m patient. You tell me what you want or don’t want. My opinion doesn’t matter more than yours.”

I nodded, my eyes feeling a little watery. He wasn’t being mean, but his words hurt. They showed me that I had a lot of work to do on myself. Why had I let Gage take my own voice away? Why had I lost myself to please him? I’d hidden my real thoughts because it was easier to go with his. Had our relationship even been real or all catered to Gage’s wants? One tear slipped all the way out, landing on the ground in front of me.

He winced. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to make you sad. I’m such an asshole.” He released his grip on me and stepped back.

It was wild how much I missed his comforting touch.

“No, you’re actually not.” I reached for his shirt, pulling him toward me. To anyone else, we looked like we were having a deep conversation. I stood chest to chest to him, so every time I breathed in my boobs touched his stomach. Glancing up, I placed a hand over his heart. “Thank you.”

“For making you cry?”

I snorted. “Obviously not that. I meant for putting me first. Jordan knows me too well, so she doesn’t count in this, but no one in my life pauses to ask what I want or what I’m thinking.”

“It’s the least I can do as your fake boyfriend.” One dimple appeared.

“You’re a good human, Quentin Hawthorne.”

“Nah. Average at best, most days a shitty one.” He stepped back again, glancing at his smartwatch before frowning. “What the fuck?”

His eyes widened as he grabbed his phone from his pocket, his lips moving as he read something on his screen. “We gotta go right now.”

“Okay, what’s… going on?”

He put an arm around my shoulder and guided us out of the house fast. He held his phone to his other ear, his tone urgent and almost scared. “Where are you, Em? What streets?”

I had no idea who Em was, but Quentin’s body had turned to ice.

“Okay, we’re like five minutes away. Stay there. Remain on the phone with me. Is anyone else near you?”

I couldn’t hear her response, but Quentin cussed.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I know it hurts right now. You can cry, Em. I don’t care.”

Quentin walked faster, causing me to jog to keep up with him. Sweat beaded on my forehead as we approached campus.

“Hey,” I whispered, tugging on his hand. “Do you want me to head home?”

“No,” he fired back, his grip on me tightening. “Stay with me.”

I paused, honestly torn between what to do. He cared for Em a lot. I had no idea if she was in trouble or what, but Quentin wanted to go to her, and I felt weird tagging along. It wasn’t jealousy, but there was a gross sensation in my gut at how fast he left the party, all without talking to me about it.

I knew there had to be a good reason, but it still left me wondering, doubting. The few times Gage changed our plans abruptly, he’d never told me why. Just a team thing. He’d be out to dinner, and he’d get a text, then apologize and call me an Uber home. I’d always get flowers the next day but never an explanation.

And I let him do it. I never pushed. I hated how I accepted that behavior, that I didn’t demand more. It made me feel weak, but I wasn’t that girl anymore.

“Please, Logan,” Quentin whispered, his expression twisting. “I promise I’ll explain, but I might need your help.”

“Okay.” I nodded just as he took off walking fast again. He kept asking Em questions, and my curiosity about who she was to him grew. His voice was different, more authoritative and in control. Yet his posture was stiff.

“Around the corner. Almost there.”

Once we turned onto Green Street, everything seemed off. It was dark and humid, typical for late August, but there was no one on the street. It should’ve been filled with students. A lone girl sat on a bench, a phone pressed to her ear as she wrapped her arms around her knees.

She glanced up, mouth parting, before she ran toward Quentin. Tears streamed down her face, black makeup lining her cheeks. Her sobs echoed on the street as Quentin released my hand and prepared for Em to slam into him. And slam she did.

She released a cry as Quentin grunted. He patted her head, his face looking murderous as he stared down the road. I felt like an intruder on the moment, but I had no idea what to do.

“I-I-I can’t believe he did that. To m-m-me.” She hiccupped, then fell to the ground. “I loved him. And he did this.”

“He’s a fucking asshole.” Quentin crouched to the ground with her, keeping a hand on her shoulder. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“No-no you can’t.” Em cried harder.

My heart hurt for her. The pain and agony in her tone was familiar. My eyes watered from my initial reaction of walking in on Gage cheating on me with Rebecca. I’d wanted to scream and throw up and hurt someone. This was similar pain. Utter betrayal hurt deep and didn’t heal entirely. You lived with it the rest of your life. My heart called out to this girl who meant something to Quentin.

“You’re not going back there. You can stay at the house with us,” Quentin said, rubbing her upper back. “Take my room.”

“Q, I’m not doing t-that.” She sniffed and lifted her head. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Quentin held her hair right before she puked all over the road. It was a horrible sound, the mess getting on Quentin’s shoes. The smell surrounded us as he met my eyes, pain all around them. He mouthed I’m so sorry before he helped Em up. “Hey, we gotta walk. It’s a good ten minutes. Do you need me to carry you?”

“No. Just leave me here. I deserve to sleep on the sidewalk tonight.”

“First, I’d never do that. Second, my sister would murder me if I left you. Third, Theo would worse than murder me. There is no situation where I’d leave anyone by themselves. You either walk, or I carry you.”

“I’ll do it. I have one ounce of dignity left.”

“Eh, that’s questionable,” he replied.

Em snorted but then grabbed her head. “I’m drunk and heartbroken. This is the lowest moment of my life.”

“Well, then look on the bright side. It’s only up from here.” Quentin sighed before pointing back toward the direction we came. His shoulders sagged, and he kept rubbing his forehead as we slowly walked home.

Em stumbled into me a few times, apologizing over and over before she cried. It wasn’t until we neared the house before she hiccupped and gasped. “Quentin! Were you on a date? Oh no. Oh no, no.”

“Em, don’t worry about me and Logan, alright? You need to drink some water and sober up. You’re gonna feel like hell tomorrow.”

“Already do.”

Then, Em threw up on herself.

“Shit.” Quentin ran a hand through his hair, his face pained as we stood on the front porch of the house. “She needs to get out of those clothes. Logan, is there any way you could help her? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

“Of course.” My heart hurt for the girl. She was young. A mess. Sad. “I can help her into the shower and let her borrow some clothes.”

“Thank you.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I owe you so fucking much. She’s important—to my sister, to her fiancé. Me too. Just, she needs our help.”

“Hey, don’t stress on my behalf.” I squeezed his forearm. “You go change the puke off you, alright? I’ll take care of her.”

His jaw flexed as he unlocked the door to our house. It was only eleven, so Preston and Jordan were still up and playing a video game on the couch. Once Jordan saw me and Em, she paused. “Oh no.”

“Can you help me clean her up?”

“Yes. Preston, pause the game and don’t cheat.”

“I wouldn’t do that!”

“Yes, you would!”

Jordan’s face twisted in worry as she approached Em and me. The poor girl was barely hanging on. “What happened?”

“Not exactly sure, but Quentin said she’s really important and asked me for help. The girl’s heart was broken tonight, and I think she was left somewhere alone?”

“Damn, okay, let’s get her to the shower.”

It didn’t take long before we had the water running and Em sitting naked on the side of the tub. My chest ached for her. She whimpered and kept repeating that she and her boyfriend were supposed to get married. That her roommate wanted him. That two people she trusted betrayed her.

I related so hard. It made me feel heartbroken all over again, somehow opening up the wound that had started to heal. Thank god I’d had a Jordan with me. Did Em have someone to help her through this? I hoped so.

“It’s okay, honey. You’ll heal.” Jordan washed the puke out of her hair and kept saying kind things. She’d done the same for me, and our gazes met with understanding.

Em had a long journey ahead of her.

We cleaned her up, let her borrow one of my T-shirt and a pair of shorts, and walked her back into the hallway where Quentin stood. He wore loose gray shorts and a plain blue shirt, his hair wet from a shower, and damn. He was a sight.

“Thank you both. I wouldn’t have been able to do that for her.” He ran a hand through his hair, his expression worried. “Is she any better?”

“She’s clean, but she’s gonna be in so much pain tomorrow.” As I said the words, Em leaned into me, so I supported all her weight. Grunting, I held onto her. “Where should she sleep?”

“I could give her my bed. I crash on the couch all the time,” Jordan offered.

“No, she’s my family. She’ll take mine.” Quentin gently crouched to be in front of Em. “Em, I’m gonna let you use my bed, okay? There’s a large water on the table and a trash can if you need to throw up. Will you be okay?”

Em nodded. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“I know, hon.” Quentin took her out of my arms and guided her down the hall, the two of them disappearing into his room.

“You alright?” Jordan nudged my arm. Her tone held a deeper meaning.

I knew what she meant.

“Surprisingly, yeah. It showed me how far I’ve come from the day I found out.” I rubbed my chest, my hearting beat faster than normal. “Couldn’t get a lot of details, but it sounds similar to what happened to me.”

“I know. I feel for her. So she’s his family?” She tilted her head, frowning as she stared down the hall. “You run into her or how did you find her?”

“She called him, and we went to get her. He…he dropped everything and ran to her. It was admirable. She matters to him.”

“Mm, well, definitely a side of him I hadn’t expected. Won’t ask how the hard launch went then since you weren’t gone long.”

“It was fine. Jordan, I’m con?—”

“Hey, seriously, thank you both.” Quentin walked down the hall, hands in his pockets and his emerald-green eyes focusing on me. “Can I speak with you a minute, Logan?”

“Uh, sure.”

Jordan squeezed my arm before saying, “Let us know if you need more help, okay? She seems young, and I want to protect her now.”

Quentin smiled. “Yeah, I appreciate that. She’s gonna be mortified tomorrow. Not sure what that means, but I might sleep on the couch a few days if that’s okay?”

“Fine with me.” Jordan shrugged. “I’m gonna finish playing with Preston though. Log, we’ll chat tomorrow.”

Jordan jogged downstairs with thuds, leaving Quentin and I in the hallway alone. My stomach fluttered with nerves for reasons unbeknownst to me. Maybe it was how he stared at me, all intense and unfiltered.

“You okay?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. It felt weird to still be in my party outfit when we were back. He was showered, and Em was in his room.

“I was gonna ask you that.” He ran a hand over his jaw, his left cheek twitching before he let it fall to his side. “You’re being patient and kind by not asking intruding questions, which I appreciate, but I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

I shook my head. “None needed.”

“Then humor me.” He gestured down the stairs. “Let me treat you to a Hawthorne secret dessert. Very good, very cheap, very strange.”

“With an invite like that, how could I refuse?”

He smiled briefly before placing his hand on my lower back and guiding us down the stairs. I liked how warm his hand was, and his skin touching my bare back sent goose bumps over my arms. He smelled amazing after his shower, and yeah, maybe I did want an explanation because the gross, almost-jealousy-but-definitely-wasn’t feeling returned. He cared for Em deeply, and I wanted to know what it felt like to be cared for by Quentin. Fake or not.