“Yo, Isla,” Octavia calls out my name as she stumbles toward me with Demi. “You wanna hit this joint?”
I glance up at the two of them from the bench seat I’m sitting on and shake my head. “No, I’m good. I don’t really smoke weed.”
“Aww come on,” Demi throws her arm around Octavia’s shoulders, slurring her words with how sloppy drunk she already is. “A little bit of weed never hurt anyone. Plus, this is your first college party!”
Octavia grabs the joint from Demi as she waves it in my face, attempting to pressure me. “Let it go, Dem, she said no. Don’t be a bitch about it.”
Demi opens her mouth to say something, but then the song switches to something more upbeat through the speakers and she breaks out into a huge grin. “Oh my god, I love this song,” she yells out, pulling Octavia with her. “Let’s go dance!”
Octavia glances over her shoulder at me. “You coming, Isla?”
I shake my head, smiling back at her as I slowly sip my beer. It’s my fifth one of the night and I’m already starting to feel warm and fuzzy. Definitely tipsy. The last thing that I need to do right now is attempt to stand up. I’ve been to high school parties and have had my fair share of drunken nights, but it’s been a while since I’ve drank alcohol. And I can’t remember the last time I was drunk like this.
Sitting on the piece of lawn furniture, my eyes scan the patio area, watching everyone as they’re engaging in different conversations. There’s two beer pong tables set up and one with flip cup. It’s a chilly evening, but it’s still warm enough to be outside with a sweatshirt on. And the alcohol definitely helps with the chill in the air.
I don’t know any of the people here and even though I was introduced to some earlier, I’ve already forgotten their names. Remembering something like that has always been difficult for me, unless someone has a definitive impact on my life or makes their place known in my circle of friends. I’ve always been an introvert, so this is definitely out of my comfort zone—being here with a crowd of people that I don’t really know.
Hence, why I’m sitting here on the bench by myself. The circle of friends I’ve made the past two weeks at school are small and I’m perfectly okay with that. I’m just as content, sitting here drunk as hell, people watching like it’s no one’s business. It has always interested me, studying people and the way they interact.
And wondering why the hell I can’t do the same. It’s almost like they’re the replicas of how I wish I could be, interacting with people. They make it seem so easy, but every time I try to talk to someone I don’t know, I struggle with the small talk. Give me one-on-one conversation, something deep and with meaning and I’m more than good.
The cushion that I’m sitting on shifts and I glance over as Silas drops down beside me. His eyes are bloodshot and glazed over as he gives me a lopsided grin. “What are you doing, sitting over here by yourself? I thought I would have found you inside dancing with the girls.”
I shrug, taking another sip of my beer. “That’s not really my scene. I’m more content just hanging out here.”
“I get that,” he says with understanding as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one. I stare at the side of his face as he watches a group of guys playing flip cup. Silas is one of the only guys I’ve become friends with since my freshman year started and I like the friendship we’ve fallen into. He’s easy to talk to and even though he’s single, he’s never made me feel uncomfortable.
“Why aren’t you in there with them or playing beer pong or something?” I question him, my eyes trailing along the straight lines of his face. Silas is attractive, with his perfectly symmetrical face and deep green eyes. His olive skin stands out from his darker features and his dark brown hair is always perfectly styled. “I’m sure you don’t want to spend your night sitting here with a wet towel.”
Silas tilts his head back, laughing as a cloud of smoke curls into the night sky. He looks over at me, his green eyes finding mine. “You’re not a wet towel, Isla.” He smiles, chuckling lightly before his face falls serious. “This is exactly where I want to be right now.”
He inches closer, sliding across the cushion as his thigh rests against mine. Moving his cigarette to his other hand, he wraps his arm around the tops of my shoulders. The feeling is foreign, but it feels nice, tucked against his side. Silas is warm and it’s getting colder as the night grows longer. “Is this okay?” he asks, peering down at me.
My heart thrums harder in my chest and I nod slowly. I appreciate his respect for boundaries and the way he asks for consent for something so simple. I’ve never thought of him as more than a friend—and maybe it’s the alcohol—but right now, it feels nice being close to him.
“Get your fucking arm off her.”
Inhaling sharply, my breath gets caught in my throat as the sound of Logan’s voice sends a shiver down my spine. I glance behind the bench we’re sitting on and see him standing there, his expression dark as he glares at the two of us.
Silas ignores him, taking another drag of his cigarette. Neither of us move and I’m frozen in place, unable to tear my gaze away from Logan’s. He looks like he’s fucking livid right now and I don’t miss the way his hands curl into fists as he begins to walk around to the front of us.
“You have two options, asshole.” His voice is low, his tone harsh as he pins his gaze on Silas’s and rips the cigarette from his fingers and tosses it onto the ground. “Either you remove your arm from her shoulders or I remove it from your fucking body.”
“Ah… Logan fucking Knight.” Silas pauses, a harsh laugh falling from his lips. “How rich is this? I should have expected you to swoop in and pull some shit like this. This is what you and August always do, isn’t it?”
Logan narrows his eyes at Silas while he cracks his knuckles. “Now.”
“Fuck,” Silas mutters as he pulls his arm away and glances at me. “You’re cool with this?”
I swallow hard over the knives in my throat, feeling completely uncomfortable as my head swims from the alcohol. “It’s okay.” I nod at Silas. “Just go.”
I stare up at Logan, not bothering to pay attention to the shit that Silas mutters as he gets up and stalks away. I’m speechless and still frozen in place. Even though I’m tipsy, the way that Logan just acted completely surprised me. It threw me off guard, just like he did in the car when he made the comment about Silas watching me getting into Logan’s car.
And I don’t like feeling like I’m being pissed on like I’m someone’s property. There’s nothing between Logan and I. He made that crystal clear when I moved in with them. So, he has no right acting like this. I’m an adult now and I don’t need him to look after me like he did when we were kids.
Grabbing the side of the bench, I rise on unsteady feet and shove past Logan as I stumble away from him. I don’t get far before I feel his large hand wrapping around my bicep as he hauls me back toward him. “What the fuck, Isla?”
“Seriously, Logan? I should be asking you the same question.” I spin on my heel, shaking free from his grasp as I tilt my head up to look at him. He has a good foot on me in height, but my eyes meet his as I glare at him. “What the fuck was that? I don’t need you to keep an eye on me, okay? I can handle myself.”
“Bullshit,” he mutters, shaking his head as a shadow passes over his expression. “You’re drunk as shit and if I wouldn’t have showed up, he would have definitely been taking you upstairs to one of the bedrooms.”
My eyebrows pinch together. “And that’s any of your business because…? Last time I checked, you aren’t in charge of me, Logan. What I do, does not concern you.”
Logan closes the space between us, his hands finding the tops of my shoulders as his eyes bounce back and forth between mine. “That’s where you’re wrong, babe.” His voice is low, soft and warm, just like his palms on me. “Everything you do will always concern me.”
My hands find his chest and I attempt to shove him away from me, but it’s a feeble attempt with how solid he is. Instead, I stumble backward and his hands fall away from my shoulders. “No. You don’t get to do this to me.”
“Do what?” he asks, stepping back into my space. His expression softens and his gaze burns through mine. “Care about you? Make sure you’re safe?”
“Is this how you treat your friends? You practically piss on them like a goddamn dog marking its territory?”
A soft chuckle falls from his lips and he raises an eyebrow at me. “My dick has been in my pants all night, Isla.”
My breath catches in my throat and I quickly lift my beer to my lips, swallowing the rest of what is in the bottle in an effort to clear the lump that situated itself there. He’s my brother’s best friend. He’s my friend. A warmth spreads through the pit of my stomach and I know it’s from more than just the alcohol. Stop thinking about his dick.
Logan’s warm fingers brush against mine as he wraps them around the neck of the bottle and takes it from me. “I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”
“You’re not my keeper, Knight.” I glare up at him, feeling my body sway on unsteady legs. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.”
Logan’s face falls and he tilts his head to the side with a pained look in his eyes. “Don’t do that,” he whispers, his voice strained.
My eyebrows pinch together. “Do what?”
“Don’t call me Knight, like everyone else.”
“Your friends call you Knight.” I roll my eyes in a dramatic fashion before pushing past him. “I’m just making sure that I’m playing the part right.”
I leave Logan outside on the patio as I march back into the house, pushing my way through a sea of people. I don’t have time for these games with him. He wants to be friends, then he needs to act like my friend instead of some jealous and possessive boyfriend. Maybe there could be something between Silas and I, but how am I supposed to ever know if he just insists on inserting himself in places that he doesn’t belong?
As I make my way through the crowd of people, I finally reach the hallway that leads to the front door. Just as I turn the corner, I feel a set of hands grabbing my waist. I gasp in shock as I’m spun around and find Logan in my face, pushing me backward. He pushes me back through a door into the laundry room.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, my voice hoarse as he corners me. My back hits the wall as he plants his palms on either side of my head, caging me in. My tongue darts out to lick my lips as I stare into the depths of his ocean eyes. “Logan…”
“I don’t know how to be your friend, Isla.” He moves one hand from the wall, sliding it along the side of my face as he cups my cheek. His thumb is soft as he strokes my skin. “What if I don’t want you to play the part anymore?”
My breath catches in my throat as my heart pounds erratically in its cage, threatening to burst from my chest at any given moment. I drop my eyes to his plump lips before looking back into his eyes. “You don’t want to be friends?”
A ghost of a smile plays on his lips as he shakes his head. “I never wanted to be your friend.”
Logan slides his hand around the back of my neck as his mouth crashes into mine. His lips are warm and soft against mine, just as I remember him. It’s like we’re thrust back in time, to a different place, a different moment—but we’re not. We’re not in high school, sneaking touches and kisses when no one’s looking.
This isn’t just a dream or a memory…
This is really happening.
