His Favorite, page 5
With him completely gone from my life, I grab my phone and try to tell Zack that I have homework. He suggests that I skip it and come hang out with him, but I can’t. I have two huge tests coming up, and I’m way behind with the chapters that I need to read. When I tell him that, he eventually slows down on bugging me, but he does make me promise something.
After these two exams, he wants me to go out with him one night. Nothing fancy, not a serious date or anything “lame” like that, but a night for us to have fun, unwind, and celebrate when I inevitably ace the tests.
Of course, I say yes.
I don’t know that I’m as confident in myself as he is, but if I end up passing these two exams, I agree to go out with him and celebrate. With our conversation slowly dying down, I’m finally able to get my head in the game.
I spend the next two hours outlining what I want to do with my essay and the direction that I’d like to go in. It’s hard to miss the parallels. The secrets that all the characters keep. The fear of judgement. The morality that weighs down on the entire town. It takes everything I have not to let the comparisons distract me.
After I trudge through that, the rest of my studying is easy. Stupid math equations that are way too easy to be considered a college course, and some biology labs that I need to read over before we’re quizzed on it.
By the time I’m done, I’m worn out, and I slide underneath the covers. In a matter of minutes, my eyelids grow heavy, and I finally turn in early for the night.
8
Zack
J ust as I expected, Logan nails both of her exams the following week. I didn’t have much doubt about that. Even when we were kids, there was nothing she hated more than bringing home a bad grade to our parents. She knew that it meant she’d be grounded or have her phone taken away, and those were the two biggest weaknesses of hers.
Me, on the other hand?
I had no problem coming home with bad grades. Mom knew that school wasn’t my strongest, especially when it came to history or English. For some reason, neither of those clicked in my brain. Math was where I shined, though, which is why it was no surprise when I decided to get my degree in that field.
Logan delivers the news on Thursday, calling me to tell me that she got As on both tests. I cheer for her, genuinely excited that she killed it. Her enthusiasm is infectious. After the call, I decide that I’m going to make the following night perfect.
What she needs more than anything is some time off. I’ve gotten used to the workload of school and my job at the furniture factory, so I’m adjusted to this lifestyle. Logan is new, and she needs a break, which I’m more than happy to provide.
I make a few calls to get everything in order, then pick up something nice to wear. I grab a white v-neck sweater from the rack, deciding that it’s about as fancy as I can get, and as fancy as the bar deserves.
Friday comes around, and I pick Logan up from campus. She makes her way to my car in a sweet purple dress that’s just above the knee. It’s sleeveless and looks like something she might wear to a picnic or outdoor party. Very appropriate considering David’s bar isn’t that classy to begin with.
“Where to?” she asks after she’s buckled in.
“It’s a surprise, remember?” I tease.
“Ugh, you and your surprises.”
Rather than giving her any hints like she begs for the entire trip there, I flick through the radio. A song that we both used to love comes on, and we begin singing, just like old times. I was always jealous of her voice, and she was always insecure of it. She’s only gotten better with time, it seems, because she keeps up with Mariah Carey’s key changes like it’s nothing. By the end of the song, we’re both shouting the lyrics, screaming at some nameless man that we actually do belong together.
When we make it David’s, I park near the back and hurry around to open her door for her. She gives me a look but takes my hand, nonetheless. “After you, my lady,” I say.
“Gross. Please don’t tell me you’re going to be doing that all night.”
“What, you don’t like me being all charming and suave?”
“You can’t even spell suave,” she retorts.
“Maybe not,” I shrug, “But I can live the suave life.”
She shakes her head and pulls her purse onto her shoulder, walking ahead of me. We both enter the bar, and when one of the employees looks to card us, David comes out from the back.
“Woah, woah, Jonas, these two are fine.”
Logan looks at me. Under her breath she says, “How are we even allowed here?”
“I have a friend that’s a cousin of David’s. As long as we don’t get too sloppy, he’ll give us some beers and let us hang out,” I explain. Peter was more than happy to talk to David last night. David usually never serves underage customers, but he put in a good word for me, which I appreciate.
After grabbing two glasses, I lead Logan to the pool table. Her smile grows wide. “So this is how you want to spend the night, huh?”
“You know it.”
“What I know is that I can still run circles around you in this game.”
“Nah, you used to be able to do that,” I reply. “I’ve had plenty of practice since I left home. Your ass is mine.”
Her eyes flash up to meet mine, and I can practically see the innuendo turn over in her mind. I can’t say that I don’t like the thought, but right now, my focus is more on beating her in a game. We both grab a stick and she racks them up while I reach for the chalk. Once I’m prepared, I decide to break, sending the balls shooting in various directions. A striped one sinks into the top left pocket.
“I’m solids,” she says.
“Game on.”
Logan normally isn’t a very competitive person, but when it comes to games like pool or ping pong, I see a completely different side of her. She turns into a downright beast, ready to do anything it takes to win. She’s even killer with the trash talk, insulting everything from my sweater to the way I hold my cue.
“Now I see why you’re always single,” she says. “You’re trash with your stick.”
“Watch it,” I warn her. “I might have to show you what I can do with a stick.” My voice is low so that only she hears me, and she leans forward on the table, challenging me.
“Show me what you can do with it then.”
Before she can finish her sentence, I shoot for the green stripe, watching it narrowly avoid her hand before it sinks into the pocket. Shock covers her face, and she quickly has to recover, shrugging it off.
“Lucky shot.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” I grin.
In the end, I manage to just barely beat her. That grumpy look on her face doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, so we play another game. I’d like to say that I let her win this time, but she kicks my ass all on her own. I don’t know where it came from, but she’s practically a pro at this.
We down two more beers each, and I feel myself starting to get warm and fuzzy, that buzz of just barely being tipsy. We share a basket of wings, and Logan demands to know what her prize is for winning.
“Prizes? I didn’t know we were doing prizes!”
“Yeah, well, we are,” she shrugs.
“Okay, well then I want one too.”
Logan licks her finger. “What kind of prize do you want?”
I put my elbows on the table. “You really wanna know?” I ask. She nods silently. “I want to show you just how good I am with sinking balls.”
She holds back a smile and says, “Deal.” Without another word, she stands up and makes a beeline for the bathroom. It takes me a minute to catch up, but I hurry after her, closing the door behind us. I can only hope nobody saw us go inside together.
We can barely keep our hands off of each other the second we get into the bathroom. I can think of an entire list of things I want to do to Logan in this moment, but this bathroom isn’t very big and we don’t have much time.
I spin her around and bend her over the counter, which elicits a moan from her. I see a smile grow on her lips, and she looks up at me through the mirror. There’s the usual excitement, but underneath that, there’s something darker than I’ve ever seen. Something that practically lights me on fire.
I quickly unzip my pants and hike up her skirt, giving her ass a swat before I press my cock against a cheek. Logan bites down on her bottom lip, rolling her hips backwards to add extra pressure. I swear to god, if I hadn’t had practice before this, I might’ve come right then and there.
There’s no need bothering with pulling down her panties. I tug them aside and tease her with the tip, shivering as the warmth of her pussy invites me. I pause my hips, though, leaning in close to her. My lips brush over her ear.
“I want to hear you beg for it,” I murmur, smiling devilishly.
“Please,” she whimpers. “I need to feel you, Zack. Please.”
“Good girl.”
Satisfied, I press forward, sliding deep inside of her with one fluid movement. The both of us groan in unison, and I fold myself over her, kissing the back of her neck. I start slow, pulling back and thrusting forward with a steady speed. She’s still new to all of this, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her.
Like before, she presses back to match me, helping me to bury every last inch inside of her. The fact that she’s so eager for me makes me harder, if that’s even possible.
I grab her hips and begin guiding her backwards, and the bathroom soon fills with the echoes of the two of us working together in synchronization. She’s impossibly tight, and somehow, even better than the first time. I groan against her shoulder blade, practically panting as I slam into her.
“Fuck yes, Zack,” she cries, her mouth ajar as she takes me over and over again. Treating her to the same amount of pleasure, I slip a hand around her and work her clit in small, tight circles. The response is immediate. She bucks against me, practically pushing herself up on her toes. I can only chuckle deep as she rides me.
“Good girl,” I whisper in her ear. My lips find her earlobe and I tease it, sucking on it, desperate to overwhelm myself with every last inch of her.
We work together like this, greedily taking each other and sharing ourselves. I can feel her body begin to tighten and her whimpers grow higher in pitch, and I know. She’s getting close. She’s almost there.
To help give her that push, I bury my face in the crook of her neck and snap my hips forward faster, quicker than before. I press firmer on her sensitive numb, and I suck on her neck, eager to leave my mark.
It’s like magic.
“Fuck!” she cries, her expression almost twisting into what can be read as pain. She’s not suffering, though. The walls of her pussy constrict around me as she climaxes, and I feel her grow even wetter. The sensation is enough to make that rumble of pleasure stir in me too.
I bend her over more, one hand on the back of her head, and I go for home. She takes me like a champion, lacing her fingers through my second hand as I come harder than ever before. My groans echo in the tiny enclosure, and I nearly collapse on top of her when I’m finished.
I’m tempted to stay like this for a moment longer, but I know that someone could be waiting outside in the hall, annoyed that we’ve been in here so long. Reluctantly, I pull out of her, tucking myself back into my jeans.
She grabs a small bit of toilet paper to clean up, then pulls her panties back into place. When her dress is back to normal and she’s fluffed up her hair again, she turns around to look at me. We share a smile. It’s the same one we wear whenever there’s a secret between us that no one else knows.
I take her by the chin and kiss her tenderly. The act makes my stomach do a flip—something that never happens. I’m starting to think I have it bad for this girl.
9
Logan
P eople haven’t stopped staring at me all day. I have no idea, but every person I pass in the hallway follows me with their eyes, like they’re watching to see if I’ll react a certain way. A girl from my English class even spends the entire hour staring up at me. I keep seeing her out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn to her, she swivels around like she’s not doing anything.
Okay…
After class, I pull my backpack over my shoulder and pull out my phone, looking through my notifications. I have about seventy new messages on Twitter, which is strange because I never have interactions on that app. Confused, I scroll through my DMs.
“Hey babe u wanna come play with the soccer team next?”
“sluts are my favorite kind of girl. wanna play?”
“I always had a feeling u were that kind of girl.”
Confused, I try to make sense of everything. There seem to be endless messages from creeps at school, all asking if I want to hook up, if I want to blow them, or if I charge for my services.
“What the fuck?” I whisper.
A moment later, Julie bumps into me, nearly causing me to jump and drop my phone. “Oh my gosh,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
“Julie, do you know what’s going on?” I turn my phone around to face her.
“I was just about to ask you about this.” Her voice is somber. “You have him blocked, don’t you?”
“Who?”
“Chris,” she says quietly.
My stomach sinks to my toes. Of course, this has something to do with Chris. “What did he do?” As I ask this, I scroll through my social media accounts, unblocking him. When I get to Facebook, that’s when I see what he’s said.
“’Anyone interested in Logan Greene should know that she’s as nasty as they come,’” I read aloud. “’She tricked me into thinking she was into me, but that was because she wanted to get with all the guys on the football team. And guess what. She did.’ This is bullshit, Julie!”
“I know it is!” she cries, wrapping her arms around me. “He’s such a liar. This is because you turned him down last month. He hasn’t gotten over it. I’m so sorry this is happening.”
Her kind words seem to bounce right off of me. I feel numb. I feel empty. And in that emptiness, anger starts to grow. I slip out from her arms and march down the hallway.
“Wait, Logan! What are you doing? Where are you going?”
My lips are in a tight line. I know exactly where I’m going, and I don’t have time to listen to Julie try and talk me out of this. It takes me seven minutes to cross the campus and make it to the parking lot, where I find Chris and a group of his friends leaning on his new car. In between posts slandering me, he bragged about just how nice his parents were for buying him something like that.
“Well, look who it is,” one of his friends says.
I ignore him and turn to Chris. “Did I wound your ego that badly when I turned you down, Chris?” I ask. “Did I emasculate you so much that the only way you could feel like a man again is to use sexist bullshit to ‘put me in my place’? Or are you just like every other shrimp-dick loser that lashes out at any girl that dares to not make you the center of their world?”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Logan.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” My hands are shaking, balled up at my sides. I could hit him in that smarmy face of his, I’m so pissed.
“Uh-oh,” another of his friends cackles. “She looks real mad. Maybe you should hook her up with the football team again.”
“Fuck you,” Julie chimes in.
“Aw,” Chris smirks. “Look at that. One slut sticking up for another.”
Hot, angry tears spring at the corners of my eyes, and I want to kick myself for showing any kind of emotion other than rage. “You’re an asshole, Chris. No amount of cars, or fake friends you keep around you will change that.”
He rolls his eyes again. “Yeah, alright, Logan. Why don’t you go fuck the math nerds next? I mean, it’s sloppy seconds, but beggars can’t be choosers, right?”
Julie throws her bottle of water in his face, and before he can react, she pulls me away. It takes everything I have not to fall apart right then and there. Even as we walk back to our dorm, my phone blows up with texts and DMs and tweets, everyone buying all the lies that Chris told about me.
I crawl under the covers, trying desperately and utterly failing to silence the sobs tearing through me. This isn’t fair. I know that I wasn’t exactly kind to Chris, but did I deserve this? Did I deserve to have everyone at school treat me like dirt all because I told Chris I wasn’t interested in him?
I try to tell myself that it’ll be okay, but even I don’t believe that. Everyone here knows about this. That Facebook post alone had three hundred comments with everyone making jokes and sharing weird stories about me that aren’t even true. But because Chris said it, it must be fact!
There’s a knock at the door, and Julie climbs out of bed to get it.
“Where is she?” a familiar voice asks.
“Under the covers,” Julie whispers back. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
When she’s gone, I hear approaching footsteps. He sits down on my bed and slowly pulls the covers away from my head. I turn my head, so Zack doesn’t see how much of a mess I am. I must look horrible, my eyes swollen and my face all red and splotchy. When I finally muster the courage to look him in the eyes, I just break down again.
Zack holds me close, stroking my hair and soothing me. “I know,” he murmurs. “I know.”
Everyone does, I think bitterly. Everyone knows what Chris lied about. There’s probably no one on the campus that hasn’t heard these pictures or seen my phone number. The only blessing I can think of is the fact that I didn’t send him any racy pictures. I know in my heart that he would’ve used those against me too.
“I’m so sorry, Logan.”
I look up at him through bleary eyes. “He did it because I was talking to you,” I whisper. “If we…if we hadn’t done anything, none of this would be happening. I knew this would be a bad idea.”
I should’ve listened to my gut. I should’ve realized that nothing as perfect as me and Zack would make sense. We could never be together, not with our history together. Not with the way society looked at us as siblings, regardless of whether we were or not.
