Shh! (20 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Logan had tonsillitis. After spending the weekend nursing him and Jordan—who just had the flu and probably could have looked after himself, the big baby—it felt good to be back in my dorm room. I hadn’t slept at their apartment a second time. Instead Dane had picked me up at ten on Saturday night, and I’d walked back over there at seven on Sunday morning. Logan was well enough to drive me home late on Sunday afternoon. His fever had finally gone and after two days of antibiotics he was up and about again—albeit speaking like he’d spent two days shouting and drinking nothing but tequila. He assured me he was feeling better and might even make it to classes, although he had a Doctor’s Certificate for the entire week.

Wish I did.

As I rushed around packing for a day of classes, I kicked myself that I hadn’t thought to take any study over to Logan’s. I was unprepared for the coming week of lectures and being a new term, I should be at the top of my game. Especially after my appalling results from earlier in the year. I shoved everything into my bag, slung it over my shoulder and headed out. Sociology was my first lecture of the day and I wasn’t particularly hungry because I’d snuck down to the dining hall this morning. It turned out not many of my fellow college dwellers were up at six am. Reason enough to make a habit of rising early.

As I walked across campus my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I fished it out. The screen showed an image of my mother. Sighing, I hit accept.

“Hi Mum.”

“Olivia. I heard results came in on Friday. You haven’t called …”

Dread curled in my tummy and I steeled myself against her reaction then decided better of it. “I’m on my way to class. I’ll call you back after.”

“Two minutes, Olivia. That’s all this will take. I know you have your grades, because Ella has hers. How did you go?”

“Sorry ...” I held the phone out from my ear. “I can’t hear you. Reception’s shoddy.”

I hit
end call
. Ella-freaking-Parry, ruining my life since the third grade. Well hopefully mum would be glad I was going to class. It wouldn’t satisfy her for long, but maybe it could buy a little time, and not giving her what she wanted when she wanted? It felt good. Petty? Probably. Satisfying? Most definitely.

Walking into class, I was grateful that Socio was a year-long subject. It meant that I hadn’t pulled a bad grade yet and I still had another semester to make sure I didn’t. Besides, it was a good class. I actually enjoyed learning about the way society worked. My enjoyment of the subject had nothing to do with the guy who I sat with.

Good lord, I was a bad liar. Even I didn’t believe me.

As I slid into my usual seat near the front of the room, my phone buzzed again. Feeling a little sick, I switched it to silent. She wouldn’t give up, and my refusing to talk was a stupid move because she’d know something wasn’t right. But I couldn’t deal with it right now, nor could I drag up the energy to care enough to respond.

I placed the phone on my desk facedown and set up my tablet to take notes. The darn thing buzzed again, near vibrating right off the tiny table top. Inhaling a frustrated breath, I picked it up, and without even looking at her message responded with:

I’m in class, Mum.

Logan chose that moment to appear, and even though he’d said he’d come, seeing him was still a surprise. It had only been three days since he was delirious with fever. I really didn’t expect him to follow through. Hopefully this wasn’t too much too soon.

Despite slightly sunken cheeks, he looked so much better. There was colour in his face and his hair had its golden sheen. Even his eyes had that damn sexy twinkle, the one full of secrets I wished he would share. He frowned. “What’s up?”

As if to punctuate his concern, my phone buzzed again.

I switched it off and moaned. “Parents. It seems even half a state away I can’t escape them.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Logan sighed.

Our professor started speaking, and once again I had trouble with concentration. But it wasn’t the fine specimen of a guy beside me who had my mind wandering. It was my horrible grades. A fail incomplete was disastrous, and the thought of breaking that news to my mother after class had my tummy twisting in all kinds of knots.

The blank screen of my tablet started moving with the nudge of Logan’s fingertips. What in the world was he doing? I was trying to pay attention, for heaven’s sake. When it was balanced on the far corner of my desk, Logan tore a sheet of paper from his notebook and slid it onto my table, then poised a pen over it and wrote. When he was finished, he dropped the pen and removed his hand.

Stop stressing. Nothing’s that bad.

I took the pen and wrote,
A fail incomplete in Torts is pretty bad.

His expression said it all. Even Logan thought that was horrendous. He simply wrote,
Ouch.

I raised my eyebrows and shot him a pointed look. Not that bad, hey? He tapped the pen against his bottom lip then dragged his teeth across the plump surface. The fluttering in my tummy totally chased away the twisty feeling. I drew in a ragged breath.

He smiled at me, that darn twinkle even brighter, as if he knew exactly what he’d just done to my insides. Then wrote,
It’s only one class. You can take it again next year.

It will bring down my GPA.

This the cause of your parental problem?

A lump tugged at my throat. I tried to close it.

I haven’t told them. Avoidance is key.

Logan’s gaze met mine, and he didn’t need to write his next words; they were written in his eyes. He thought I was a failure, that I should have told them, that I shouldn’t have failed that class. And he was right; I shouldn’t. I should be pushing up my grade point average and concentrating on building my CV, not tearing it down. Sometimes the pressure was just too much, and that was exactly how it felt. I just wanted to be one of those kids that cruised through classes, partied like an animal, and still managed to come out the other end intact and holding a degree. Yet here I was with a weird sleeping disorder, a social outcast, and failing my classes, even though I studied my butt off. I took up the pen and wrote exactly what I was feeling.

It’s hard to be perfect.

Logan’s hand slid over mine, his palm flush against the back of my hand. He curled his fingers around it.

My heart felt like it stopped then started again, beating way too fast. A burn grew low in my tummy and my thighs tingled. What in the world was Logan doing to me? A desire stronger than any I’d ever felt before stole over me and I wasn’t sure that I could suppress my feelings for him any longer. I couldn’t even remember why I wanted to. He flipped our hands over so mine was palm up, cradled in his. I think my hand trembled. A part of me just wanted to launch myself across the armrest that separated us.

Logan’s gaze moved to my eyes and held them as he brought the pen to my palm. He didn’t smile, but his eyes spoke volumes. In that instant, I knew he wasn’t holding back anymore; desire blazed in his gaze. The pen began moving on my hand and his eyes dropped to watch what he was doing. When he slid his hands away, words were scrawled across my palm.

To me you’re perfect.

Something inside of me melted, causing my eyes to leak tears I hadn’t even realised were building. With those four tiny words, he’d made me feel whole, made me feel good, and I didn’t doubt them because when my gaze met his, the blue of his eyes was clear as a summer’s day. My hands flew to either side of his rough jaw and pulled our mouths together. Our lips meshed as I kissed him over and over again.

Logan froze under my touch, completely non-responsive.

My heart froze too.

Good lord, what had I done? Kissing your best friend was a stupid move. And kissing him in the middle of a lecture was even stupider.

I started to pull back, but he looked shocked as all heck. Like he’d only just woken from the daze his hands slid up into my hair and he forced my mouth back to his, holding me in place as he kissed me back in a way I’d never been kissed before. I felt as if I were falling, whether it was falling in love or falling away from the fear I wasn’t sure. As if every part of me dove from the top of that rollercoaster I’d been balanced on for so long. Logan’s kiss stole my breath, my thoughts, my senses, and I kissed him back with equal zeal.

The hoots and hollers around us sent me crashing back to the reality of being in the middle of class. I’d stopped paying attention to the lecture long ago, but now I remembered exactly where we were and what we were doing. My cheeks burned and someone yelled, “Get a room.”

Our lecturer cleared his throat, clearly not for the first time. “I suggest you take your extracurricular activities out of my classroom, Mr Hays. Miss Dean.”

He didn’t have to tell us twice. Logan grabbed my hand and pulled me out of my seat. Together, we moved down the aisle and right out of the door. A giggle bubbled in my throat. This was totally insane … who ran out in the middle of class? Not Olivia Dean, that’s for sure.

Out in the corridor he turned to me with a dark gaze. I took a step back, my laughter dying on my lips as he took a step forward. His gaze fell to my mouth, which was suddenly dry. My tongue darted across my bottom lip, trying to add some moisture. It was a futile action.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” Logan’s voice was deep, husky as he took another step forward, his nose almost touching my cheek. There was only a slither of space between our lips but he moved fast, slamming our mouths together again so fast that my back hit the wall and holy bejeebers, this was sure some way to be kissed.

Logan’s hand trailed down my side to rest at my waist and I grabbed his jacket with both hands, pulling him flush against me because I couldn’t bear for there to be any air between us. His other hand crashed into the wall above my head, steadying his stance, and the way Logan kissed me was like the world was about to end and we only had this moment to show each other how we felt.

It was magic.

It was intense.

Logan’s tongue slid against mine as he devoured my mouth and I kissed him back for all I was worth, trying to tell him in this most extreme kiss of all kisses that I was his, I always had been.

Every part of him pressed against every part of me and a fiery burn sat on my waist right where his hand rested. Logan’s fingers spread, their tips slipping under the hem of my blouse, and I inhaled a sharp breath as my hand slid to his nape, my fingers tangling in his hair to hold him against me and never let him go. Regardless of my death grip, his lips moved from my mouth, trailing kisses along my jaw and down my neck. He concentrated his efforts on the hollow above my shoulder. I moaned and Logan purred in response, his mouth moving more feverishly.

“Have to stop,” he said between kisses. “Have to …”

He dragged himself away and planted his palms on the wall either side of my head as he dropped his forehead to mine. His breathing was laboured, each breath dragged in over a rocky path.

“If I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.”

I groaned and Logan chuckled. I didn’t want this to end any more than he did, but he was right. The arts building was not the place. Instead he pushed off the wall and took my hand, bringing it to his lips, and placed a tender kiss on my knuckles. Somehow the hallway had filled around us, and people moseyed on to wherever they were headed next.

My heart continued its erratic beat as Logan walked me all the way across campus to my next class, not letting my hand go until I was sitting in the lecture theatre.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Logan waited for me outside my last class of the day, looking hotter than ever with his back against the wall and one leg bent up. His blond mess of hair was shaggier than ever, and that smile—it could melt me.

I had no idea how he’d figured out where I’d be—it was like he just instinctively knew. A quip about him being a stalker sat on the tip of my tongue, but I thought better of it and smiled instead. He was a welcome sight, and I didn’t want him to think otherwise. He lifted the strap on my bag and slung it over his own shoulder.

“I tried to call, but it went right to voicemail.”

I sighed just thinking about the influx of messages from my mother that would be waiting. “I haven’t turned it back on.”

“You’re going to have to talk to them eventually, and when you do, just remember that this is your life.”

Maybe he was right. I sure felt like I could defeat the entire world. Like nothing mattered other than me and him. Us. Holy hotcakes, was there an us?

“What are you up to tonight?” Logan asked as he slipped his arm around my waist, steering me out of the Law building and toward his Corolla parked on the street.

Spending the evening with Logan was a welcome thought. My tummy flipped at the memory of the scorching kiss we’d shared earlier. I hadn’t been able to think of anything else all day, and even though he’d said he’d wanted to do it for a long time, I wondered where we were now.

Now that I’d shoved all that other stuff aside and finally ’fessed up to my feelings, I wanted more. I wanted to kiss him again, but I didn’t. Instead I walked along by his side, playing my own little mind game of
will he or won’t he.

“Nothing … I mean … I have study, but I’m not going out, and I’m not doing anything important.” Good lord, that was terrible. I sounded like I was desperately waiting for him to give me a better offer, which I totally was, but I didn’t want him to think that.

I climbed into the front seat before he could answer and busied myself with straightening my hair with my fingers. He hopped in the car and to ease over my desperate declaration, I blurted out, “How’s Jordan?”

Logan started the engine. “Not as sick as he thinks he is. I packed him off to school this morning. He should be home again by now.”

Logan drove me back to Oxley, and although the trip was only two minutes, and we’d sat in comfortable silence for much longer than that many times before, I filled the silence with trivial conversation. Everything felt far less than comfortable. In fact, sitting still and not fidgeting with my hair, my nails, or my bag was near impossible.