Page 51 of Wicked Minds
“Here’s to being messed up, then,” I say, lifting my beer bottle.
“At least we can be messed up together,” she jests, knocking her bottle against mine before gulping it.
“Can I ask you a question?” she says after a moment. I arch aget on with itbrow. “Do you think any of them—all of them—are worth a second chance? If they apologize or whatever—make it up to you—would you forgive them?”
I can’t tell if she’s asking for me or herself, but her question begs consideration. “I don’t know. Logan hurt me when he just stopped talking to me. While I can understand his reasoning, that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I thought we were building a solid foundation, and instead of talking about it, he just cut me out. I… I don’t think I could go through losing him fora second time. But even if I thought I could, that easy, light-hearted relationship I thought we had no longer exists. Anything we would have now would come with strings attached…”
“Grayson.”
“Exactly. He’s in so much pain. It’s agonizing to be around him, and I want to help him, but I also know he has to be the one to pull himself out of the darkness. He has towantto see the light. I’ve been there, I know how hard that is to do. I barely survived it myself. However, I can’t let him drag me back into that. So until he can rescue himself… we’re nothing. And even then, he’ll probably still be an asshole.”
Tara bumps her shoulder against mine. “I thought asshole was your thing.”
Choking on my sip of beer, I snort-laugh. “Royce is a different breed of asshole. He’s… not like how he seems. There’s a sensitive side buried underneath all those protective asshole layers.”
“Awww, Ruthless has a soft, gooey core,” Tara teases.
“His core isdefinitelynot soft.”
“Hell no, that man isallmuscle.” Tara fans herself in an utterly over dramatic fashion, and the laugh that bursts out of me is light and free. “Well, if you want my advice, which you do since it’s amazing… the way I see it, you’ve got three assholes who all have a hell of a lot of making up to do. If I were you, I’d let them. Make them grovel and take all the orgasms they’re willing to offer. When it finally comes time to make your decision,thenyou can decide if you’re willing to forgive them. If there’s a future there.”
“You’re forgetting one thing,” I point out. “This grand plan of yours assumes any—all—of themwantto be forgiven.Wantto be with me.”
With a dismissive wave, Tara snorts, smirking. “Of course, they all want to be with you.”
Quirking a brow, I argue, “What makes you think that?”
Tara’s focus shifts over my shoulder before returning, that knowing smirk still in place. Using the neck of her beer bottle, she points. “The look on his face tells me I’m right.”
I turn to see what she’s talking about, and the air catches in the back of my throat when I spot Logan standing several feet away, staring at me as though he’s seen a ghost.
“I’ll just be… over here.” I think Tara points somewhere, but I’m too pulled into Logan’s gaze to notice. The entire room falls away—noises muted and distant—as Logan reels me in just like he did in Statistics that day. Except today he’s not looking at me in disdain. The polar opposite, in fact.
His eyes scour over me in surprise before returning to my face, and the sheer intensity of the emotions shining back at me nearly brings me to my knees.
Desire.
Want.
Longing.
There is so muchlongingin those chestnut eyes.
The moment seems to stretch into oblivion, the two of us caught in a web that’s entirely of our own creation before Logan surges forward.
In the space of a blink, his arms are around me, my feet lifting off the floor as he buries his face in the crook of my neck.
“Fucking hell,” he laughs against my skin. “I thought I was hallucinating for a sec there.”
All I can do is hug him back, soaking up his warmth as I press my face against his shoulder. Even in the sweaty, packed warehouse, he still smells like winter, and I inhale him like a woman starved.
“Can’t say I ever thought I'd see you here. The Depot isn’t exactly a popular hangout for HU students.”
“Tara’s brother owns the place,” I explain.
“Tara? The girl you work with?”
I nod. “She’s here somewhere.” I can’t tear my eyes away from him to point her out, not that he seems to care, as his hands come to frame my face.
