Logan Kade
Page 19
I resigned myself to the fact that he was going to date, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t have to like it, and I certainly didn’t want it having an impact on my academic life.
My studies were mine alone. No dad. No wife wannabes. I wanted my dad’s identity and mine to be separate. That meant keeping my head down, trying to keep quiet about my last name, and doing what I knew how to do: study my ass off and make my mom proud.
Thinking about living my own life reminded me of Jason, and I pulled out my phone to send him a text: You still mad at me?
I’m not replying to you.
You just did.
To tell you that I’m not replying to you.
So you’re mad?
I waited a beat. No text came. But just as I slid my phone back into my bag, I heard it buzz again. I pulled it back out to see that Jason had replied, Yes.
I dropped it back in my bag with no reply. There was no point. When Jason got mad, I had to let him stew. He’d get over it, eventually. I was on my way to the food court for lunch before my next class when another text came. Jason again: I won’t be mad by the weekend. We should hang out.
I replied with a smiley face, then really put my phone away.
The food court was set up like the ones at a mall. Fast-food booths lined the outside walls, and tables, chairs, and couches covered the middle. A large fountain filled the area next to the main entrance, and a river wound from it down through the center of the eating area. Potted trees and foliage added to the atmosphere. Doors to the side of the fountain led into the actual cafeteria for students with a meal plan. They just needed their ID card to get inside. I had a meal plan, but I still grabbed an empty table in the far corner of the food court, right next the windows. It was out of the way, and I could see all the students outside.
It was perfect.
Plopping down with my salad, an apple, and a water, I pulled out my laptop. I had an hour and a half before my next class. I’d just started checking my email when I heard a familiar voice. Claire came in through a side door near me. She was with a bunch of others, all of whom Jason would’ve rolled his eyes at.
Some of the guys wore pastel polo shirts over slim khaki shorts, their hair gelled and combed to the side. Other guys had their hair sticking up in a mess, but it was no doubt meticulously put together. Claire and a few of the other girls wore dresses, while two others wore jeans and T-shirts. Those two trailed behind, and I wondered if they were actually part of the group.
When they all found a table, those two girls sat at the end. Claire landed smack in the middle, right next to the guy who looked like the leader. He wasn’t the tallest, but he had the most charisma and a wide smile. Everyone seemed to be talking to him, or waiting for whatever he had to say before continuing their conversation.
I could’ve called out or raised a hand, and she would’ve come over. Actually, seeing how snug she looked next to that guy, she probably would’ve called me over to join them. She sat with her back to me, so I knew she wasn’t going to see me. I kept quiet. Sometimes being alone was too lonely, and sometimes—like now—it was a welcome break.
Then I heard, “It’s my mindfucking partner in crime.”
REGULAR NICE GUY
LOGAN
Taylor wanted to be alone. That was obvious.
I saw her from outside before I came in. She was watching her friend, her cute face scrunched up. I could’ve done a play-by-play of her thoughts: Should I call out to her? Do I want to? Then I’ll have to deal with the douchebag pricks with her.
Then her face cleared. She stopped nibbling on her bottom lip and shifted in her seat, turning away from the table with her friend. Yep. Taylor made the right decision.
And I made my grand entrance, dropping into the seat across from her. “It’s my mindfucking partner in crime.”
Her entire body went rigid, her apple frozen inches from her mouth.
I smirked. “Any time you spend with those sphincters is wasted time. Good call ignoring your friend.”
Her cheeks flooded with color, and she straightened in her seat. “I’m not ignoring—” she started. She took a breath and looked around. “I didn’t even see her over there.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t lie.” I waved at her face. “You turn purple when you try to bullshit. It’s a bad look for you.”
“I’m not purple.” Her cheeks went from red to a lavender color.
“You are. It’s kinda cute, if you want a guy that’s into the whole Barney look, but I’d assume those guys aren’t going to be looking your way unless you’re nine and like black, nondescript vans.”
“What?”
“Okay. I’m stereotyping.” I grabbed her water. “But I don’t care.”
“That’s my water.”
I opened it and took a drink. “It’s mine now.” I gestured to the coffee booth. “I have to get a latte for Sam.” I lifted her bottle. “I’ll grab you one of these. You want a coffee or something else, too?”
“No.”
I stood, frowning down at her. “I’m not that big of an asshole, I swear,” I told her, waving her water in the air as I walked away. “I’ll buy you another one. I just need a little something while I wait in line. My throat’s parched.”
She eyed me with her usual look, a mix of wariness, curiosity, slight amusement, and something else. I hoped it was sexual attraction, but this girl was different than the others.
“Why’d you turn Jason down for the gambling thing?” Taylor asked when I returned to the table.
My studies were mine alone. No dad. No wife wannabes. I wanted my dad’s identity and mine to be separate. That meant keeping my head down, trying to keep quiet about my last name, and doing what I knew how to do: study my ass off and make my mom proud.
Thinking about living my own life reminded me of Jason, and I pulled out my phone to send him a text: You still mad at me?
I’m not replying to you.
You just did.
To tell you that I’m not replying to you.
So you’re mad?
I waited a beat. No text came. But just as I slid my phone back into my bag, I heard it buzz again. I pulled it back out to see that Jason had replied, Yes.
I dropped it back in my bag with no reply. There was no point. When Jason got mad, I had to let him stew. He’d get over it, eventually. I was on my way to the food court for lunch before my next class when another text came. Jason again: I won’t be mad by the weekend. We should hang out.
I replied with a smiley face, then really put my phone away.
The food court was set up like the ones at a mall. Fast-food booths lined the outside walls, and tables, chairs, and couches covered the middle. A large fountain filled the area next to the main entrance, and a river wound from it down through the center of the eating area. Potted trees and foliage added to the atmosphere. Doors to the side of the fountain led into the actual cafeteria for students with a meal plan. They just needed their ID card to get inside. I had a meal plan, but I still grabbed an empty table in the far corner of the food court, right next the windows. It was out of the way, and I could see all the students outside.
It was perfect.
Plopping down with my salad, an apple, and a water, I pulled out my laptop. I had an hour and a half before my next class. I’d just started checking my email when I heard a familiar voice. Claire came in through a side door near me. She was with a bunch of others, all of whom Jason would’ve rolled his eyes at.
Some of the guys wore pastel polo shirts over slim khaki shorts, their hair gelled and combed to the side. Other guys had their hair sticking up in a mess, but it was no doubt meticulously put together. Claire and a few of the other girls wore dresses, while two others wore jeans and T-shirts. Those two trailed behind, and I wondered if they were actually part of the group.
When they all found a table, those two girls sat at the end. Claire landed smack in the middle, right next to the guy who looked like the leader. He wasn’t the tallest, but he had the most charisma and a wide smile. Everyone seemed to be talking to him, or waiting for whatever he had to say before continuing their conversation.
I could’ve called out or raised a hand, and she would’ve come over. Actually, seeing how snug she looked next to that guy, she probably would’ve called me over to join them. She sat with her back to me, so I knew she wasn’t going to see me. I kept quiet. Sometimes being alone was too lonely, and sometimes—like now—it was a welcome break.
Then I heard, “It’s my mindfucking partner in crime.”
REGULAR NICE GUY
LOGAN
Taylor wanted to be alone. That was obvious.
I saw her from outside before I came in. She was watching her friend, her cute face scrunched up. I could’ve done a play-by-play of her thoughts: Should I call out to her? Do I want to? Then I’ll have to deal with the douchebag pricks with her.
Then her face cleared. She stopped nibbling on her bottom lip and shifted in her seat, turning away from the table with her friend. Yep. Taylor made the right decision.
And I made my grand entrance, dropping into the seat across from her. “It’s my mindfucking partner in crime.”
Her entire body went rigid, her apple frozen inches from her mouth.
I smirked. “Any time you spend with those sphincters is wasted time. Good call ignoring your friend.”
Her cheeks flooded with color, and she straightened in her seat. “I’m not ignoring—” she started. She took a breath and looked around. “I didn’t even see her over there.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t lie.” I waved at her face. “You turn purple when you try to bullshit. It’s a bad look for you.”
“I’m not purple.” Her cheeks went from red to a lavender color.
“You are. It’s kinda cute, if you want a guy that’s into the whole Barney look, but I’d assume those guys aren’t going to be looking your way unless you’re nine and like black, nondescript vans.”
“What?”
“Okay. I’m stereotyping.” I grabbed her water. “But I don’t care.”
“That’s my water.”
I opened it and took a drink. “It’s mine now.” I gestured to the coffee booth. “I have to get a latte for Sam.” I lifted her bottle. “I’ll grab you one of these. You want a coffee or something else, too?”
“No.”
I stood, frowning down at her. “I’m not that big of an asshole, I swear,” I told her, waving her water in the air as I walked away. “I’ll buy you another one. I just need a little something while I wait in line. My throat’s parched.”
She eyed me with her usual look, a mix of wariness, curiosity, slight amusement, and something else. I hoped it was sexual attraction, but this girl was different than the others.
“Why’d you turn Jason down for the gambling thing?” Taylor asked when I returned to the table.
