Too Wrong: Chapter 8

I can’t tell.

“I’m in love!” she squeals.

Horny. Definitely horny.

“Already? Doesn’t take you long, does it?” I turn toward the mirror to check the state of my make-up and hair. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

She grips my forearm tighter, stepping from foot to foot like an impatient, ecstatic child. “Adrian, the guy who’s always with Nico and Toby. We used to text a bit, but he lost interest, and now…” she squeals again. “I think he’s ready to start over! What am I supposed to do? I want him. I really, really want him! I want him for longer. Maybe forever.”

That’s not a first. MJ falls in love three times a month on average. Her affection dies as fast as it comes to life like a cheap firework. Timothy is a prime example; I love him! fast forward two weeks, and I hate him! She’s a challenge to please.

I rack my brain, combing through the dates, trying to recall Adrian and my general impression of the guy, but since Logan sat at my table, I’ve been watching him through a single-point focus lens, and every other man became a blur.

MJ snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Cass. What’s up? Who are the dreamy eyes for?”

“No one worth my time,” I say aloud as a reminder of the dreaded fact that keeps eluding me. “About Adrian… I have no idea what you’re supposed to do. Wrong person to ask. I’ve not been out on a decent date in a long time.”

“But guys keep coming back to you regardless! Take James. He’s been staring at you all night! He wants you even though you cut him loose an hour into your date.”

“James wants to get in my pants. I assume Adrian already was in yours. Maybe try and make him work for it this time?”

She kisses my cheeks as if I’ve unraveled an ancient secret. As soon as we’re back in the dimly lit room, James blocks my path. MJ flees, winking at me out of his view, her heart and mind set on playing cupid.

“Hey, babe,” he drawls with a cocky grin. “How about you give me another chance? Let’s ditch this place and grab dinner, hmm? What do you say, babe?”

I want to say don’t call me babe; it sounds cheap, but I have an unclear feeling it might spur him on. He touches his hand to my face, caressing my cheek, and stares into my eyes in a way he considers seductive but comes off creepy.

“You’re not stupid, so I don’t know which part of I’m not interested you don’t get.” I step back so he can’t touch me. “There won’t be another date.”

His jaw tics, and his patience wears off just like during our first date. He cuffs my wrist, forcing me to follow him into the corner of the room. He pushes me against the wall, looming over me, still holding my wrist. My heart thumps faster. His hot breath fans my face, making me break out in chills.

“What the hell is your problem, Cass? Take that stick out of your ass and let’s go have fun. You’ll love what I’ll do with you.”

A small smile blossoms on my lips when Logan materializes behind him and grips his shoulder, knuckles white the harder he squeezes, yanking James back, a stormy glare aimed at the back of his skull. “I can’t say you’ll love what I’ll do with you if you don’t let her go. It doesn’t take me much to snap, so I suggest you back the fuck off.”

James rolls his eyes, not anticipating what he’ll find behind him. “You got a problem?” He turns around, shrinking in on himself when he’s forced to tilt his head back to meet Logan’s stare. “This doesn’t concern you, man. Cassidy is here with me.”

What? Who does he think he is?

“I’m not,” I clip, pushing away from the wall.

Logan’s eyes dart to me, sliding down my body briefly before he focuses his attention back on James. “As I said, I don’t take long to snap, man. You’re on borrowed time already. Keep that in mind while you decide what your next move should be.”

James’s hands ball into tight fists at his sides, and for a short moment, I think he’ll throw care to the wind, take a leap of faith in his questionable abilities, and hit Logan, but a heartbeat later, he shrugs out of his grasp and storms away.

“Thank you. He’s very frustrating.” I step closer, drawn to Logan, the safety he offers, and the intoxicating smell of his toned body.

“Yeah, I can see that. Get back to your table. We’re about to start the next round.” He gently pushes me in the right direction, heat pooling in my stomach when his big hand connects with the small of my back. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

Half an hour that couldn’t have passed any slower. I try my best not to glance in Logan’s general direction, not to watch him entertain the women who stare at him as if they can telepathically force him to fuck them right here. The few times I cave and steal a glance, his eyes are on me, and a shiver slides down my spine, my pulse racing.

Adrian sits at my table not long later. He mostly talks and asks about MJ which is a nice change of topic from the standard date questions: favorite everything. I finish my drink when Logan comes back with a glass of daiquiri in hand, his face unreadable.

He slides the drink across the table, eyeing my lips for a fraction of a second before he averts his gaze. “Are you staying for the afterparty?”

“Afterparty?” I echo. No one mentioned that before.

“Yeah, Toby said that once the dates are over, people stay behind to get to know each other better.”

“Is that before or after I’m supposed to hand out my phone number?”

“After. How many guys will get it, Cass?”

Zero.

“I’m not sure yet.”

His eyes narrow, and he grits his teeth, I think. He composes himself so fast I’m not sure if I really saw a shadow of annoyance flicker across his face or if I made that up. “Adrian, Nico and Toby won’t get your number. Neither will that idiot… James, was it? You’re down to eleven.”

“The man in the polo shirt won’t get it, either. Ten.”

He leans back in the chair. “The guy at table seven is picking his nose. Nine.”

“Table thirteen; he’s a gynecologist and lectured me about the tell-tale symptoms of ovarian cancer.”

We narrow the list of possible candidates down to three, and with each one we eliminate, the reasons get sillier.

“Table one,” Logan says in a hushed voice, hands resting on the table, our faces inches away while we whisper not to be overheard by the men we’re ruling out. “He’s got something stuck in his teeth. Two.”

A shadow of a smile, barely a suggestion of one, plays across his full lips. He’s so damn handsome. The smell of his cologne wraps around me, nuzzling me into a false sense of security. All I want is to curve myself into his body and fall asleep with my face buried in the crook of his neck. I want his arms around me. I want his lips on my temple. I want him to want me.

To care about me.

“Cass?” He nudges my hand with his finger. “What are you thinking about?”

“Sorry.” I quickly glance around the room. “I’m not sure who’s left, but whoever the second to last guy is, he’s too something, so that leaves one.”

“I think you’re stuck with me, princess.”

I hope to God he can’t see how much that endearment affects me. Memories hit me square in the jaw as the night we spent together replays in my mind. “Aren’t you spoken for by the cute blonde at the next table?” I say, forcing my vocal cords to work as I inhale an inconspicuous, calming breath. “Besides, you already have my number.”

His face falls, a muscle feathering his jaw, and he draws his eyebrows together when the bell rings as if he forgot during the last five minutes that I’m the enemy and the girl who slept with his brother.

I arrange my mouth into a believable smile, despite feeling like a kicked puppy.

One chance. That’s all I want. One chance to start over and show him how much I could love him. I never had anyone in my life who I truly loved. The feelings stir within me, waiting for an outlet. Logan would be happy with me. I’d make sure of it if he’d only let me in.

He bobs his head in agreement, his lips sealed, and with one last look at me, he walks away to take care of the pretty little blonde sitting behind me.

I steal a quick glance, watching the man I can’t get out of my head flirt with someone else.

“And?” MJ asks when we exit the cocktail bar after the Express Dates end. To my surprise, she didn’t want to stay behind for the afterparty and cling to Adrian. She decided we should hit the club, and if Adrian wants to find her, he has her number. “How many guys got your number?!”

“Two.” I look left and right before crossing the street.

“Two?! What the hell, Cassidy? Why just two? There were so many hot guys there tonight! And I’m sure every one of them would give an arm and a leg to take you out. Well, apart from Adrian, obviously. Who are the lucky two?”

I wouldn’t consider them lucky. I’ll probably ditch their calls if they decide to get in touch. There’s no point in accepting a date invitation while Logan’s so deep under my skin.

“Mathias and Wes. How many got your number?”

“Six!” she huffs, hooking her elbow with mine. “You know, in case Adrian doesn’t call. If he does, though… God, I’m so nervous! I think I’m in love with him!”

Ever so dramatic.

“He’ll call. He’d be an idiot not to. Come on. I’ll buy you a drink.” I start us on a stroll down the main street.

We arrive in front of Q, the hottest club in Newport, but we don’t get through the door before MJ freezes mid-step and drops her bag on the ground. She falls to her knees, frantically searching for her phone. The way her hands tremble and lips stretch into a wide grin, I know she hopes it’s Adrian.

“Hello?” Cue an even bigger smile. “Oh, okay. Yeah, sure. We’re about to get into Q.” Her face falls a bit. “Oh… well, I…” She glances at me with a pained frown.

I don’t need an explanation for her sudden stuttering. It’s Adrian on the other side of the line, and he wants to see her, but he doesn’t want me to come along. Although it’s probably Nico who threatened to leave if I join them.

He has no reason to avoid me. He must think I’ll tell Kaya about his every move, but I don’t spend as much time with his ex as I used to. She’s on a downward spiral, unwilling to fight the alcohol addiction and gaining another in the form of drugs.  

Or maybe it’s Logan who doesn’t want me there.

“It’s fine,” I mouth. “Go.”

She covers the microphone with her hand. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ditch you!”

Yes, she does, but I’m used to that by now. At least she has a reason I can get on board with. Many before her didn’t. I’ve been expendable to most people, and at some point, I got used to being left behind.

“I’m sure. I’ll take a cab home.”

She kisses my cheek, pressing the phone back to her ear. “I’ll be there soon.”

In the meantime, I wonder if texting Thalia at ten in the evening and asking her to meet me in town for a drink is pushing my luck with Theo. It probably is.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” Mary-Jane sighs, a stray-dog look twisting her features. “I know I asked you to come, but—”

“Don’t be sorry, just promise you won’t end up in bed with him tonight, okay? Make him work for it.”

She nods vigorously, hugs me again, and walks away back in the direction of the cocktail bar, leaving me alone on the curb. Instead of annoying another Hayes brother by demanding his wife’s presence, I haul a cab and head home. 

Even though I understand MJ, my stomach still churns, a ball of sadness swelling behind my ribs.

Back in my flat, I kick off my heels, open a bottle of Corona and plop down in front of the TV, curled under a soft blanket. An episode and a half of YOU later, my phone pings on the table. A text message from the one person I never expected to hear from waits on the screen. My blood turns hot and sticky at the sight of his name and five words.

Logan: I think we should fuck.

My heart picks up rhythm, beating out of my chest when an array of enticing, highly erotic images play on the backs of my eyelids. Goosebumps dot my skin, and I feel the fine hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end.  

He wants me?

After all that happened?

Why? What am I missing? What changed?

I swear under my breath, furious at him for texting and at myself for pondering the idea. We can’t do this. All he wants is sex, and while I know it would be amazing, I also know that come morning, my feelings would flare, and forgetting him would be that much harder. 

My fingers hover over the screen. Hundreds of answers to that text form in my head. Some snarky, some rude, some very inappropriate, but he did save my life recently, so I settle for a less aggravating reply.

Me: If this is a joke, it’s not funny.

I can act unaffected over a text, but the truth is, the cat is out of the bag, and all I can focus on is that night three years ago when we had sex. The way his full lips grazed my skin, teeth nipping the soft flesh. The rushed, demanding pace of his thrusts. His soft whispers in my ear; strong hands on my hips; the warmth of his skin…

I squirm on the loveseat, squeezing my thighs together, already worked up like the entire line outside a whore house on a nickel night. After a minute of silence on his part, I toss the phone aside and head for the bathroom. 

I need a shower. A cold shower to calm down because there’s no way I’ll give in to the ache and make myself come with Logan on my mind. Not again.

Ice-cold water doesn’t cool the fire blazing inside my head and between my legs. If anything, I’m even hotter when I exit the bathroom wrapped in a white, fluffy towel.

My phone pings again.

Logan: Three words. Two fingers. One night.

A wave of heat travels from my head down my abdomen and caresses the backs of my thighs. I remember those three words. I remember Logan pushing two fingers inside me, his hot lips on my neck as he whispered come for me.

And I did. So many times during that night. I was exhausted when we collapsed next to each other, panting, breathless and sweaty. Logan’s a pleaser. He gets a kick out of seeing a woman come thanks to his efforts. Not that it takes him much work to trigger an orgasm. He’s not simply good with his lips, cock, and fingers. He knows how to take care of the mind.

I don’t reply to the text. I won’t give him the satisfaction. He’s with Nico, and it must be their idea of entertainment. 

Let’s see if Cass is still hot for your dick, bro.

Urgh! To hell with integrity. I need to come, and I’ll come thinking about Logan. I reach into the nightstand drawer to pull out my trusted silicone friend. He’s long and thick, just like Logan’s dick, but as good as it feels buried deep inside me, it’s no match for the real thing.