Shh! (25 page)

He turned away abruptly, and in those few seconds we’d been flirting across the room, Dane had stood up, and was talking to Christian.

Where did he come from? My ex had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, and he glanced down at Logan, who didn’t bother to stand. In fact, Logan looked a little pissed off. They both did.

A forceful tap on my shoulder drew my attention around to Molly who pointed to Savvy. The birthday girl held her hands out across the circle of her dancing friends and wriggled her fingers at me. Knowing exactly what she wanted, I grabbed her hands and we came together in the centre. There was something about dancing that was almost the same feeling as being on the hockey field. Out here with my best friend, I could let my guard down and just have fun. It felt mighty good not to care, even though I probably should have. Pity my gaze kept flitting back to Logan.

What did Christian want with him?

After we’d danced so long I felt all loose and slightly wobbly, I moved back to my spot beside Molly. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Logan hadn’t moved. He didn’t look happy. Dane sat beside him, bent forward with his forearms balanced on his lap and his hands gripping one another. Whatever they were talking about seemed serious.

Molly tapped my shoulder and raised her hand to her mouth in a gesture meaning she wanted a drink. I felt kind of parched too, but dancing was good. Dancing was wonderful. I never wanted to stop dancing. So I shook my head and grinned. The music morphed from pop to an older song and our group grew smaller. They must have all needed a rest. A strobe light started flickering and Savvy jumped in and out of my vision, the sweat on her brow shining in the white light.

The beat of this song was fast and the bass thumped in time with my heart. My blood felt as if it were dancing through my veins. The room flashed to black again and my hand was caught from behind. Smiling, I pulled him in behind me, but Logan didn’t give, just tugged on my hand to draw me off the dance floor.

Now who was the party pooper? In the next flash of white, Savvy’s happy dance face slipped to surprised, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

“Can we talk?” A husky voice spoke in my ear and I spun around, tugging my hand out of his grasp.

Christian’s gaze met mine, set in determination.

“What are you doing here?” I said. “You didn’t come with us, just Dane. ’Cause Savvy likes him.”

Oops. Did I actually just say that out load?
Filter, Olivia, find it!

Christian’s gaze rolled over me, and was he looking at my chest?

The dirty perv. I pressed my finger into his chest. “Why the hell did you tell the entire university that I touch myself in my sleep? That was a jackass thing to do, and you know what?” I waited for him to answer, but Christian didn’t. Maybe his mouth wasn’t working right either. Mine seemed a few seconds too fast for my thoughts, or maybe it was my thoughts that were too slow for my mouth. Either way, the words had blurted out before I could stop them. “Well?”

His gaze moved to mine. “I’m sorry. I never should have said that, no matter if it was true, but I was just so tired, Livie. So goddamn tired all the time. Sleep deprivation—”

I raised my hands and slammed them right into his chest. “Sorry is bullcrap, Christian. You ruined my life.”

He stumbled back and kept talking. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.”

“Well, it did.”

Christian reached for me, trapping my upper arm in his hand. His touch made my blood turn to ice. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said he’d ruined my life. He had ruined my career aspirations. A few good things had come out of this mess, like our break-up, Logan, and my new friendship with Molly. I wasn’t about to give him credit though.

“Please, Olivia, forgive me. We were so good together. We …” Christian’s gaze flicked behind me. He pulled me toward him, and I had too many feet. They got twisted around each other and stumbling forward, my chest crashed into his and Christian’s arms wrapped around me. He smelled like musky aftershave, and scotch, and completely familiar. My body wanted to melt into his embrace. It started to, but I couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

Jerking my hands into the space between us, I shoved away from him, but Christian’s hold was too strong. It didn’t break. “Get your hands off me.”

He didn’t. He must have thought forcing me to hug him would make everything better.

“Let her go,” Savvy yelled, and Christian’s hold on me released slowly, reluctantly.

The jerk had held me on purpose, and my arm stung where his fingers had dug in. His gaze dropped to my chest again and without a second thought, my hand connected with his cheek in a ringing slap.

Christian reeled back then lunged forward, his hands gripping my arms again. “Livie,” he pleaded.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

Logan.

Suddenly he was there, prying Christian’s fingers from my left arm.

A look of pure hatred came over Christian’s face, highlighted by my hand print shining on his left cheek. “Are you with him now?” My glance caught Logan’s, and Christian said, “You are.”

I’m not sure how it happened but somehow his fist slammed into Logan’s face and my man skidded backward a few feet. “Creep,” I growled, punching Christian in the chest. My other fist followed the first, and he was like a solid brick wall, but I kept pounding into him. “It’s none of your damn business who I’m with.”

Someone pulled me away, and I struggled to get free. But Logan was there, punching my ex in the face when I couldn’t and damn, Christian deserved it.

“Logan!” Dane’s voice boomed from behind me. He swooped in, pushing between the two guys with a hand on each of their shoulders.

But Christian shoved him away, and then neither one was paying Dane any attention. People crowded around. Logan hurled a fist that connected with Christian’s chin. And my ex bounced right back, socking Logan so hard I heard a crack. A circle had formed around them as everyone on the dance floor stopped to stare. Dane grabbed Logan by his shirt and yanked him back.

Christian took the second’s reprieve to make eye contact. “He’s not right for you, Olivia.”

The anchor on my arm fell away and I surged forward, flying at Christian in a Miss Piggy-style move. Two moments after my body slammed into his I was surrounded by iron-tight arms.

“Logan,” Dane growled. “With me. Now!”

“Bastard needs—”

“Right now, damn it.” Dane’s voice was too close to my ear and too loud. Savvy shrank as either her or I moved further away. I didn’t feel like I was moving, I felt like I was being held. I fought to get away, but my feet couldn’t find purchase. They were dangling in the air. Where did the ground go?

“Logan,” Dane warned, right in my ear.

They’d moved away and I couldn’t see a darn thing through the crowd.

“Time to leave.” A voice I didn’t know.

“Come on, Logan. Let it be … for Jordan,” Dane said, his voice vibrating through my back where he’d pinned me to him.

There was another loud crack, like a fist thunking into solid bone, and the unfamiliar voice snarled, “I’ll throw you all out if I have to.”

Must be a bouncer. I stopped fighting against Dane, and he growled, “For Christ’s sake, Logan, if not for Jordan then for Kayla.”

“Fuck,” Logan growled, and he sounded different; still angry, but different.

I don’t know if it was Dane’s tight grip on my middle or the tension of the fight, but I felt like I needed to vomit.

“Let me go,” I demanded, but Dane didn’t. He tucked me into his side and started walking. Everything spun and then we were outside. A strong arm tight around me, holding me up because my legs were like liquid. Abso-freaking-lutely useless.

“Get in the car,” Dane ordered and a door squeaked open. He dropped me onto the back seat and closed the door. Good lord, I was tired. Maybe if I just closed my eyes the sick feeling would disappear. Another door opened and closed.

“Logan?” I asked.

His arm curled around me while he reached for the seatbelt with his other hand and buckled me in. The car started, but how was it moving when Logan was beside me? It wasn’t the future; we didn’t have hover cars, yet. Didn’t matter. I collapsed against his shoulder and closed my eyes.

My arm shook. A gentle nudge at first then a little more fiercely. Groaning, I opened my eyes and the world spun. Whoa, not good. I snapped them shut again.

“Wake her up. We’re home.” Was that Dane? What was he doing?

The cushiness of the seat fell away from underneath me. The world really was spinning. Lurching almost. A warm firmness appeared under my cheek.
Logan?
I drew in a deep breath.
Yep, Logan.
Curling into him, I left myself drift off again.

They were shouting.

Everyone was shouting.

I forced my eyes open and Logan sat on the couch across from me. His ugly brown couch at his apartment. I tried to smile, but my mouth didn’t want to co-operate with my thoughts. There was blood on his face, all across his cheek which was red and swelling. He needed to ice it. I should grab him some from the freezer. As soon as I could make my tired legs work. Whatever made my thoughts connect with my actions wasn’t working. Good lord, I was drunk.

“You’re no better than Dad,” Jordan shouted.

A door slammed and I flinched. Not physically, but mentally. Maybe I only blinked. Logan reefed his shoe off and tossed it. A loud crash sounded then another as the other shoe followed.

“Need to go home,” I said, but my voice wouldn’t work loud enough.

“You two need to calm the hell down,” Dane said. “Put Olivia to bed, man, then get your shit together.”

The front door slammed.

The room continued spinning, but my eyes were too heavy to care.

****

My head pounded like the beat of a bass drum. Surely each thud slammed my tender head against concrete and my mouth, good lord, it felt as if something had curled up inside it and died, sucking all moisture out in the process. I groaned and pulled myself into a tighter ball. Bad idea. My stomach lurched violently at the movement.

An arm flopped over me and my eyes sprung open to a cream wall covered with music posters rather than the white painted cement render of my college room.

I was at Logan’s.

In his bed.

With him.

I’d stayed overnight.

And I’d slept.

My lungs burned. I’d stopped breathing or something. I gasped in a lungful of cold air and my eyes stung just as badly as my throat. This wasn’t happening, couldn’t be happening. I just couldn’t.

Logan would have seen everything.

So much for a quiet night with only one drink. I was such a Cadbury. Just a glass and a half and I was plastered. How the hell had I wound up here instead of at my place? If I was so drunk I couldn’t remember getting home then my little disorder no doubt would have reared its embarrassing head.

Who was I kidding all this time?

I couldn’t have a relationship. I couldn’t be with Logan if we couldn’t share the same bed. I was broken beyond repair and there was no way that would ever be okay.

I swung my legs around and sat up. My tummy felt like a roiling ocean.
Ignore it.
I grabbed my boots off the floor and tugged them on.

I couldn’t be here.

I couldn’t ever be here, and I sure as hell couldn’t turn around and see Logan’s face. The sight of him sleeping peacefully would be too much to bear. I hugged my arms around myself and the huge t-shirt that had somehow found its way onto me, then I tiptoed to the door. My dress was slung over the back of the couch and my purse lay on the coffee table. I snatched up both.

“You can’t do this to him again,” Jordan said. He must have been in the kitchen.

Holding my breath to stop the ache in my throat from exploding, I didn’t turn around to face him either. “I won’t.”

And I wouldn’t. This would be the last time I walked away from Logan, ever. Just like it would be the last time I was ever in this apartment. Logan deserved so much better than the issues I brought to the table.

As I pulled the front door closed behind me, and walked down the drive, the tears came. Unable to hold them back anymore, sobs tore from somewhere near my heart and with my dress in my hand, and still wearing my shoes from the night before, I took the walk of shame back to Oxley.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

There’s only so long you can stare at the same sentence before the words in it disconnect from one another, then those words start to lose all meaning.

We need to talk about last night.

Talk was an ambiguous word. It could mean that he wanted to have a two-way discussion, or more likely he had something even shorter than that text to say. In which case, he’d be the only one talking.

Yeah, those seven words scared the life out of me.

We
: there was no we anymore.

Last night
: it had happened, and there was no way I could make it unhappen.

Need to talk
: I sure as hell didn’t want, let alone need, to talk about it. The only things that could be said would be words like, ‘I can’t see you anymore’ or 'What in the hell were you doing’ or ‘I should have believed those rumours’ or maybe even ‘You felt yourself up right beside me’.

People say masturbation isn’t a dirty thing; it’s natural, everybody does it, and it’s just a part of life. I couldn’t agree more. But when you have no control of over what you do to your own body and in the presence of whom, it sure as heck feels dirty. And right now, I felt dirtier than a prostitute straddling her third client of the night.

I didn’t want to talk about it. We were over and that’s all there was to it. I couldn’t be with someone with my condition. It just wouldn’t be fair to expect understanding. Expect sleeplessness. I needed to face the fact that I’d be alone forever. I’d sink everything I had into a career.

Cradling my phone in my hands, I stared at the screen for so long the words blurred. Again. He’d sent this message two hours ago—it had been almost three hours since I’d walked out, and I felt like my heart was bleeding. I hadn’t responded, because I couldn’t. How do you tell someone you cared about over text message that it’s over?