Page 95 of Frozen Hearts
“It’s called maintaining professional boundaries,” I snap defensively, refusing to admit to Logan, of all people, how uneasy I feel in Ben’s presence. “How come you were a total dick today?”
Flinching, his cocksure expression falls away, and he finally starts the car and puts it in drive. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t,” I mutter with a roll of my eyes. Resting my elbow on the armrest, I pretend the dickhead doesn’t exist as I stare out the window at the passing buildings.
The journey to my apartment passes in tense silence. It’s not exactly pleasant, although it isn’t altogether uncomfortable either.
When he stops, I don’t immediately move to get out. Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I then shift in my seat to face him. “Look,” I begin. “I’m not sure what exactly is going on here,”—I wave my finger between us—“But I don’t want you picking me up after work if you’re going to be an ass and ignore me, or worse, treat me like shit when we’re at school.”
His eyes bounce around the inside of the car, never landing on me for more than a second before moving on, and his nostrils flare with some annoyance I can’t pinpoint. Regardless, I continue with my speech.
“You can’t be both guys, Logan. You can’t be the one who picks me up after work because you don’t want me walking homeandthe guy who thinks it’s okay to treat me like dirt when we're at Halston. You need to figure out what you want, ‘cause this Jekyll and Hyde act, is not okay. I have more self-respect than that.”
Finally, I open the car door and step out, but before I close it, I turn and state, “Until you’ve figured it out, don’t pick me up.”
24
RILEY
“Might want to change at home,” one of the dancers whispers as I walk past her, me entering the dressing rooms and her exiting. “Ben is hovering in there being a creep.”
Ugh, great. Of course, he chooses tonight to hang out in the dressing rooms and make small talk when all of us are covered in glitter from tonight’s performance and need to shower. Coincidence? I don’t think so.
Thanking her for the heads up, I push open the door to the dressing room and immediately hear Ben’s stupid guffaw. Each of the girls don tight smiles plastered to their faces and share uneasy glances as they hurry to get dressed without giving Ben a front-row seat to their tits or ass.
“Riley! There you are. I’m just getting to know you all a little better before I get back to work,” Ben says, smiling at me in what he probably thinks is an enticing way, but comes across as phony.
I give him the same fake smile all the other girls do before hurrying to my dressing table. “Any of you girls got exciting plans tonight?” Ben asks, a hopeful twinge to his voice that I’m sure none of us miss.
Seriously? It’s 1 a.m. I bet the most exciting plans any of us have is to eat food in bed while we watch late-night TV reruns.
Murmured no’s are exchanged, and I tune them out as I grab my jeans and t-shirt and, feeling gross with the glitter still smeared across my chest, arms, and legs, I pull my clothes on. I’d rather wash it off at home. Finishing up, I stuff my feet into my sneakers, grab my coat, and head for the door.
“Leaving already?” Ben asks, pouting at me like a stupid man-child.
“Yeah. I’ve got assignments due.” I rush out the door before he can point out that it’s officially winter break, so technically I shouldn’t have any assignments due for weeks.
Hitting the fresh air, I finally exhale a deep breath. What a weird night. Ruthless was once again MIA. Although, after last night’s encounter, I’m thinking that’s for the best. Not that my idiotic heart agrees. It’s stupid. I should be happy to be back on the stage all night, every night, but I miss our intimate interactions, and throughout every performance, I found myself scouring the room for him.
After the way he behaved last night, I shouldn’t want to be anywhere near him. I should be staying far away from him and his mood swings. If he can’t handle getting a girl off, that’s on him. He shouldn’t take it out on me.
Besides, no distractions, remember?
Rounding the side of the building, I step into the parking lot and falter. After my speech last night, I wasn’t expecting to find Logan waiting.
Yet that’s exactly who is sitting in the black Range Rover parked in front of me.
“Two weekends in a row,” Tara points out, walking up beside me and wagging her eyebrows.
Before I can tell her it’s not what she thinks, she talks over me. “Girl, don’t give me that. No guy sits outside a club on a Saturday night waiting for a girl if he doesn't have every intention of pursuing her.”
She points at Logan’s awaiting car. “Whether or not you realize it, that right there is boyfriend shit.”
Her parting words leave me stumped as I watch her walk to her car before shifting my attention to Logan’s now familiar SUV.
As I slowly approach, his door opens and he steps out. Running my gaze over his face, I try to get a read on him. His emotions seem all over the place. His face is contorted into tight lines making him appear pained, and his mouth is pressed into a thin, angry line, yet his eyes are dilated with lust.
Not sure what to expect, I stop several feet away. “Thought I told you not to come tonight.”
