Logan Kade, Page 3

  “Kade starts fights, and he finishes them.”

  A low tingle went through me, warming me. I remembered what Jason said and the nerves/anger/excitement took on a whole other feeling. My mouth was almost watering. I wanted to see what would happen. I wanted to see this Logan Kade in action, and for some reason, I was thirsting to see this fight.

  “Kade,” one of them grated out his name.

  Kade glanced at the girl, and then settled back on the spokesman. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s a party. We were invited.”

  “And that’s why you’re facing off with Sam?” He moved forward a step.

  “We weren’t facing off...”

  Samantha folded her arms over her chest. “Yeah, right. You were just walking past me? That’s why you wouldn’t let me get past you to the car. We just ‘happened’ to block each other and you didn’t hear me when I told you to move.”

  A little laugh slipped from me.

  Kade threw me a sideways look.

  I should’ve clamped a hand over my mouth. I should’ve let them know I wasn’t involved, because really, I wasn’t. I didn’t know this girl. It wasn’t my place to say anything or join in, but I didn’t. A dark part of me had opened up, seeing that this girl might need help. I wanted something to happen. I was almost egging it on in my head and as Kade watched me, his eyes lingering, the dark part grew into something else. My body grew warm and my pulse started to pick up. It was like he knew what was going on in me, and I swallowed over a lump, because that wasn’t right. He couldn’t know. He didn’t even know me...

  But I felt like he did. I felt like he knew exactly what was going on in me, and a flash of anger flared up in me. I turned away. He could see inside of me, and that was too much. I didn’t want that so I slipped back into the crowd. As I pulled further away, enough so I wasn’t on the front line, my insides were still charged up.

  “Come on. Who invited them?” someone near me asked.

  “Who are these guys?”

  “Park’s lackeys,” another voice answered. “And they weren’t invited.”

  More and more partygoers were talking. They were annoyed, and an excited buzz filled the atmosphere. People wanted a fight. They wanted to see some action.

  The three douchebags scanned the crowd. Two stepped back. They seemed wary, but the third focused his attention on Kade. He moved closer, stepping so he was right in Kade’s face. His lip curled in derision, and his mouth moved, saying something I couldn’t hear.

  Oh boy. I swallowed.

  I recognized the look in Kade’s eyes. His anger wasn’t fading; it was increasing. And then it didn’t matter.

  Kade’s hand flew and punched the guy right in the face. Douchebag One’s head flung backward, and he stumbled a few steps before recovering. His two friends shared a look, seeming unsure what to do, but Douchebag One made the decision for them. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, locked eyes on Kade, and charged.

  The fight was on.

  “No, no, no!” Jason shoved his way through the crowd. “Cops have been called,” he yelled. “Everyone scatter—”

  Before he finished talking, sirens began to wail. They were faint, still in the distance, but he was right. They were coming.

  Douchebag One reared back. He was going to hit Kade.

  “Stop!” I yelled.

  Kade heard me and turned to look. I pointed behind him. Before he turned around, he ducked, and Douchebag One’s arm went over his head. Kade caught it, twisted around, and rammed his elbow into the guy’s gut. He hit him with an uppercut, then bent over and tossed him over his back. The two other guys ran to their friend and pulled him away as they took off with the scattering crowd.

  I watched, frowning. We weren’t in high school. We didn’t really need to worry, did we? But Jason grabbed my hand and yanked me after him.

  “Come on,” he said. “There’s illegal shit here. We don’t want to get caught. Trust me.”

  I was still revved up. I didn’t know what from: from Kade or from the fight, but Jason took off and I followed right behind. As we zipped past a car, Kade was right there. He was heading to a different vehicle and for a moment, our paths crossed.

  Kade looked at me. His eyebrows furrowed together, like he wanted to say something, but Jason yanked on my hand and we were past him.

  “Logan!” Samantha called from farther down the road.

  She waved from an Escalade. Jason veered toward them, pulling me along. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he continued right past the vehicle. I glanced back and watched as Kade sprinted for it. He leaped, took hold of the top of the Escalade, and somehow threw himself into the front seat as Samantha clambered into the back.

  Once inside, Kade reached out and pounded on the top of the vehicle. “Let’s go,” he barked.

  The driver took off, and they were past us in two seconds, just as Claire pulled up.

  Jason hurried into the passenger seat, and I threw myself into the back. Claire gunned the engine, and we turned off the block and onto another street as the cop cars began pulling up in front of the house.

  “That was close.”

  I wasn’t sure who said that, but it didn’t matter. We were all thinking it.

  Then I grinned. I wanted to do it again.

  SOC 101: MINDF*CKING A GROUP

  TAYLOR

  The house was dark when Claire dropped me off.

  Empty wine bottles sat on the kitchen table, along with half-empty glasses and a platter with cheese and crackers on it. A few grapes remained in a bowl, along with some crumpled-up napkins and three beer bottles where I assumed my dad’s co-worker had been sitting. A couple of the glasses had lipstick stains near the rim.

  I plopped down in a chair and surveyed the scene. Judging from the dirty dishes in the sink, the food was plentiful. And based on a few more empty wine bottles in the garbage, the booze had been flowing all night long.

  Speaking of booze, some of the beer started to trek its way back up my throat. I grimaced and swallowed as I cleaned up the kitchen quickly. My dad wouldn’t have time in the morning, and I had no doubt he was already knocked out now, sleeping the booze off. When I finished and headed upstairs, I was surprised to hear the sounds of his television coming from his office.

  But he was zonked out. I was right.

  An old football game played, while my dad snored in his chair. His head was back, his mouth open, and another eruption sailed out. I shook my head; I’d found him this way so many nights— either this way or he was gone. When being a workaholic didn’t help with forgetting, he’d find other ways: alcohol. Strip clubs. I was pretty sure he’d had a brief affair with a married woman.

  The house reeked of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke, and I’d found notes written on napkins in the trash. Most had hotel names and room numbers on them, but I didn’t have the heart to follow him to those places. I’d thought about it once. I’d had my phone ready to go. I was going to call Jason and make him go with me—Claire wouldn’t have understood. Her parents were still together, and alive. But Jason was different. He got it, but after I brought his number up, I couldn’t hit the call button.

  So coming home and finding my dad here? I was okay with that. At least he was here.

  I got to work. The television was turned off and I wheeled his chair down the hall to his bedroom. Thank God for wooden floors. Lining the recliner up next to his bed, I put his feet on the mattress, folded up the rug underneath the wheels so the chair wouldn’t go anywhere, and hit the controller so the chair folded down. He was next to the bed if he wanted to roll in there, or he could sleep the rest of the night the way he was. Either way he’d be hurting in the morning.

  I grabbed a water bottle and a couple of painkillers and set them on the nightstand before heading to bed.

  When I woke up the next morning, the chair was back in the office, and he’d taken the water with him. The painkillers were gone, too. After getting dressed and read
y, I sat at the kitchen table drinking my coffee. It was peaceful. It was quiet. It was relaxing, but that didn’t last once I left and got to school. I was late. Really late.

  The door to my first class was about to close as I sprinted around the corner. A guy was reaching for it, and when he saw me a frown appeared, but he waited. I sailed past with a breathless, “Thank you.”

  I slipped into the first empty chair, which was in the front row. The door closed and the guy walked past me...right to the front of the class. Lovely. He could glare at me all through class. I snuck a look over my shoulder, but I didn’t see any other open chairs. I was stuck.

  Note to self: Leave twenty minutes earlier tomorrow.

  The guy cleared his throat. His hands rested on the podium, and his eyes lingered on me for a moment before sweeping the class. “Welcome to Abnormal Psychology. My name is Jeremy Fuller,” he said. “I’m Professor Gayle’s assistant, so I’ll be helping out with most of the teaching and testing for this class.”

  He had striking features. Blue eyes, light blond hair that held a little curl, and an almost too-thin face, but he was handsome. He looked a little like Jude Law, which would normally have made me frown, but as far as I was concerned, this guy was my teacher. I’d be friend, not foe.

  We got the syllabus, an explanation of everything contained in the syllabus, and when no one could think of a question to stall the arrival of our first lecture, we got that, too. The lesson filled the rest of the hour. He dismissed the class, but I was putting my laptop away when he came up to me, clearing his throat.

  “You’re Taylor Bruce?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Hi. I’m Jeremy Fuller—” His lip twitched, and he pulled back his hand. “Sorry. Habit. We already did introductions, and I swear, I’m not a creepy teacher dude.” He paused, closing his eyes for a beat. Then he shook his head. “I’m coming across like an idiot. Okay. Let me try again. I knew your mother.”

  My heart stilled.

  “No. Sorry. Wow. I’m bumbling this, aren’t I?” He tried another smile. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize who you were when you first came in, but once you introduced yourself… I’d been meaning to find you before class started. That’s what I’m trying to say. You don’t have to be here.”

  A boulder lodged inside my chest. Someone had opened me up, stuffed it in there, and now they were trying to stitch me up around it. “What?” I couldn’t move.

  “No, no, no,” he said again, hastily. “This is all coming out the wrong way. I recognized your name on the list, and Professor Gayle asked me to double-check, because she recognized your name, too. She’s a friend of your dad’s, and she remembered hearing that you were in a nursing program already. I double-checked your transcripts and called your last professor.”

  My chest grew tighter as he spoke.

  He called my last professor…

  He knew…

  He had to know…

  I licked my lips. They were chapped. When did that happen? A slight buzzing sound started in my ears, and I shook my head, trying to clear it. When I spoke, my voice was hoarse. “I took an incomplete with that class, the one like this one.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “The professor explained where you went when—”

  I tensed, waiting for the blow. He was going to say it.

  “—you had to take your incomplete. He told me it was late in the semester, and you had a ninety-eight percent in the class overall. He would’ve passed you, but you didn’t take the final you assured him you’d be back to finish.”

  This was like a nightmare.

  My hands sank into my bag, holding on to it tight. “I left school altogether.”

  He paused, his mouth open, then his eyes darted to my face. “Uh, yeah. He told me that, too. I explained that you were a student here now, and he said he’d waive your last agreement. You got an eighty-three percent in the course. That’s what I meant when I said you don’t have to be here.”

  “I don’t?”

  “I don’t even have you on the list. I already put you in the next class up. Now…” He cleared his throat, sliding his glasses to the top of his nose. “This means you’ll be in class with actual nursing students. They took this course and got into the program, so in essence, you did, too, but not officially. Does that make sense?”

  No.

  He knew. He must’ve known.

  He paused again, frowning at me. “Taylor?”

  I nodded. He was saying something. I’d remember it later and figure it out. Class. The next one. Not this one. I nodded again, which was enough for him. He launched into the next part of his statement.

  I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t.

  “…tomorrow then?” He sounded so bright and cheery.

  I forced a smile, and a weak “Okay.”

  “Great. Good. All right then,” he said. “I have another class in here. What do you have next?”

  I closed myself off, and my autopilot turned on. I was fine. I was great. I was so thankful to him for doing that.

  And I almost convinced myself that was true as he followed me to the hallway and clapped me on the shoulder before turning toward the bathroom. He had to go before his next class, which he didn’t teach, he explained. He was a normal student like me in that one. I nodded as he disappeared.

  And my next class? I checked my schedule. I had enough time to grab a coffee. I was heading back with it when I realized that my next class was in the same building. My last class had been in Room 311...and the new one was 309. People were already going in, and I picked a seat in the back.

  A bag dropped onto the desk next to me, and I looked up into the narrowed eyes of Logan Kade.

  “You.”

  I straightened in my seat. “You.”

  “I recognize you from last night.”

  My chin went up, all my slight-panic fled, and it was on. I heard the challenge in his voice. “I recognize you from last night, too,” I said. Challenge accepted. My body went from being numb to burning up. All the panic, pain, haunting memories—everything that Jeremy Fuller just brought up in me was wiped out by the mere presence of this guy. I should’ve been grateful, but I wasn’t. I was hot. I was angry. And I knew it had nothing to do with Logan Kade, but like last night, I didn’t care.

  “You’re friends with Jason Delray. I remember him now.”

  “You’re friends—” I started, then caught myself. “Yes…he is my friend.”

  His top lip twitched into a smile. The rest of his gorgeous face was stoic. His eyes were alert, focused on me, but it was his mouth I couldn’t pull my gaze away from. Some of my anger was melting into something else, something I didn’t want to think about. For some reason Logan Kade had already wormed his way under my skin.

  He stared back at me for a moment, a mask over his face, before he started laughing. “You are feisty.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Do you not know me? Feisty women are my specialty.”

  “You’re arrogant.”

  He was full-on laughing now. “Have you not met me? Nah.” He waved that off as his smirk grew. He knew full well the effect he had on everyone. “I’m Logan Motherfucking Kade. I have my own hashtags, but,” his eyes warmed, and he leaned closer, “I want to know more about you. I know your friend, but I don’t know you. What’s your name?”

  I held my tongue. He’d find out my name during roll call. I wasn’t concerned about that. No, I was holding my tongue because I was having a reaction to this guy that I’d never had before. Eric was a jackass. He proved that the day my mom died, but he’d been my constant before. He was sweet, popular, and always there. I had feelings for him, that was obvious, but nothing like this. I didn’t quite know how to react to someone like Logan Kade.

  The second he sat down next to me, others started glancing back at us, but now that he was laughing, more and more they were openly staring. A few girls down the row were almost glaring. Kade saw them too and raised a hand. “Hey.
”

  Their stares morphed into smiles, and they waved back. One girl asked how the party was last night, and it clicked. These girls already knew Kade. I gave them a second look. They might really know him. A couple were giving him come-hither looks.

  I muttered under my breath, “So this is what it feels like.” Huh.