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Gunner digs in the front pocket of his shorts and pulls out a small plastic baggie with two white pills inside. “Want one?”
I force a smile that’s sure to look like a grimace. I don’t do drugs, never been curious enough to try. I haven’t even smoked pot and it’s legal in California. My friends did all kinds of stuff when we partied, but after years of saying no they didn’t waste their breath offering. “What is it?”
“E.” Gunner places one pill on his tongue and swallows, expecting me to do the same.
I shake my head. I’ve obviously never tried ecstasy before and don’t plan on my first time being with some guy I barely know, even if he does like me. Gunner tucks the pill back in the baggie and slips it in his pocket again. “Your loss. Come on.”
He pulls me to the middle of the dance floor where Sarah, Melody, Rachel, Tad, and Jake are. Sarah holds her hands out and pulls me into a hug. She leans into my hair and yells, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I yell back because it’s pointless to have this conversation now. Sarah hasn’t been the best friend that past few days. Sure, she still picked me up and brought me home from school, but that’s as far as her kindness went. We didn’t talk in the car, let alone on campus. If not for her semi-welcoming smile at lunch, I’d think driving me was a chore and we weren’t friends anymore. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”
Gunner steps behind me, grabbing hold of my waist and pulling me against him, ending my conversation with Sarah. Our bodies move like one as we fall in rhythm to the music. Too many songs later I’m out of breath. I stop moving as the music changes over and look around. Sarah is still going strong, dancing with some chick in my math class. Jake and Rachel are practically screwing each other on the dance floor, Tad’s locking lips with a brunette I’ve never seen, and Melody and Gunner are nowhere in sight. When did they disappear?
I step around people, slowly making my way to the stairs to the main floor. The living room feels a hundred degrees cooler, making my skin break out in goosebumps again. I amble through the house and find my way back to the kitchen. I’m dying of thirst but have no desire for beer or anything of that nature.
“The keg is outside,” Logan says while I open the cabinet nearest me.
My stomach comes to life, flipping and jumping at the sound of his voice. I thought he’d left after the bathroom debacle, but I guess he stayed. It dawns on me that we’re the only ones in the kitchen, everyone else is either outside on the patio or down in the basement, which makes me oddly uncomfortable, especially now that I’ve seen his dick.
I swallow the knot in my throat and turn around, pretending to be unfazed by Logan’s presence when really, I feel my pulse everywhere; toes included. “I wanted a glass of water.”
Logan steps around the kitchen island in the center of the room to the fridge and opens the door like he owns the place. I know he doesn’t, but whoever lives here must throw a lot of parties because everyone seems to be more than comfortable. He grabs a bottle of water from the rack on the door and tosses it to me. “Here.”
Despite my best efforts, I’m at war with myself whenever Logan is near. The logical part of my brain tells me he’s bad news. He’s a player. A punk. He’s everything I don’t need in my life. But then my heart flutters and my stomach flips and every fiber in my body goes haywire leaving me a hot, confused mess that apparently makes questionable decisions.
I catch the water, twist the cap off, and take a sip. The cool liquid feels heavenly against my dry throat. I’m hotter than I realized, possibly because Logan has that effect on me. “Is this your form of an apology for acting like a dick all week?”
Logan ignores my question and hops onto the kitchen island. He leans forward, gripping the edge of the counter, the dark ink on his arm flexing.
Maybe it’s because of what we did in the bathroom, or maybe I’m finally losing the battle against my feelings, but I need Logan to talk to me. I have this nagging fear that if we can’t find a way to communicate now, there will never be anything between us beyond that one moment of pride dipped in lust. “What’s your tattoo of?”
Logan holds out his forearm and smirks. It’s an octopus whose tentacles wrap around the rest of his forearm. I run my fingers across the ink taking in all the details. He shudders under my touch but doesn’t pull away.
My fingers trail across his palm and he closes his hand around mine. I look up into his ember eyes, noticing the clear ring around his irises from his contacts. We stay like this, the tension between us thickening with each breath. I know he feels this pull. There’s no way this is one sided.
“I’m surprised your mom let you get one.”
Logan retracts his hand back and grips the edge of the counter. His jaw tenses, and I get the feeling his family dynamic isn’t picture perfect anymore. “Saw your boyfriend a little while ago.”
I hate the assumption that because Gunner and I have kissed that we’re together. I don’t take relationships lightly. Committing yourself to one person like that is a huge step in my book. Not to mention, boyfriends expect more than kissing. I have to really like someone to take things to that level. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“That’s good, because Gunner and Melody are upstairs fucking each other’s brains out right now,” Logan says, his voice a temerarious purr.
I clench my jaw to keep it from falling open. I can’t be mad at Gunner, although I kind of want to be. Just a few hours ago, I had Logan’s dick in my hand and at lunch I would have kissed him in a heartbeat if he would have let me. We aren’t together, not really. I have no claim on him, but the thought of him balls deep in Melody is disgusting.
“Hey, doll face,” Gunner says, choosing that moment to walk into the kitchen, Melody a few steps behind him. “Where'd you disappear to? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He pulls me by the hips into a backwards hug and wraps his arms around me. He smells like a keg that’s gone swimming in a pool of cologne.
I cross my arms, Logan’s words fresh in my mind. But Gunner is supposed to be the nice guy. Nice guys don’t cheat. It’s not cheating if we’re not dating, I remind myself. “You’re the one who disappeared, Gunner. Not me.”
Gunner steps in front of me and tucks his thumb under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. His usually bright blue eyes are bloodshot, likely from the pill he took. I swallow hard, wishing I felt something more for him than frustration.
“I had to take a piss. When I got back you were gone.” Gunner’s voice is smooth like honey and sticky with what feels like a lie.
My gut tells me not to believe him, that something more happened than what he’s letting on. But my head tells me to take a breath. Calm down. And think logically. “What about Melody?
“What about her? She’s Logan’s girl.”
My eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. I thought Melody was overreacting the other day in the hallway. I don’t feel bad for beating the shit out of her, the bitch started it, but if she truly is Logan’s girlfriend, Melody had every right to be pissed at me…and all the other girls he’s cheated with.
