Logan

Ten Minutes Ago...

After London and her girls go to the bathroom, I walk up to him at the table, pull out a chair, and sit.

“What do you want?” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You must be one stupid fuck.” I laugh in his face.

“Genius level IQ.” He looks down at his watch, and then back up at me. “So, no, Links, I’m not stupid.”

“Scholarship, RA, fraternizing with the girls you’re in charge of. Add to that, you’re at a bar with them and they are all underage. Smart choices, genius.”

He glares at me.

“Like I said, you must be one stupid fuck.”

He doesn’t say shit, so I do.

“You got nothing?”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to leave them the fuck alone. Jesus L. Christ, man, is it worth losing your scholarship over?”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s Jesus H. Christ.”

“No, it’s Jesus L., as in Links.”

“You are something to behold.”

“So I’ve been told.” I lean back, eyes still glued to his.

“You’re concerned with me being here because you yourself have an infatuation with Elle. You want to control her. So, how about I return the favor by listing your failings?”

I push the drink napkin across the table. “You won’t need much more room than that to jot them down, because I have none when it comes to her.”

He pulls a pen out of his jacket pocket and writes something down before pushing it across the table. “One very powerful word, Links. It encompasses everything you are when it comes to her. Controlling, obsessed, possessive, and manipulative.”

I look down at the napkin and flip it over where the word STALKER is written. I can’t help laughing.

“You think I’m desperate enough that I’m stalking her?” I huff. “I could have any ass in this place.”

He shrugs. “I know your kind.”

“You have no fucking clue who I am, so don’t you think for one minute that you do.”

“I know why you left college last semester. I know that your sister’s—”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

He leans in. “You’re a little rattled up here.” He points to his head. “You’re taking it out on her, and she doesn’t even have a clue, because she is that kind of wonderful. But she needs to know, if you cross a line, I’ll risk my scholarship.”

“If you cross a line, I’ll risk my fucking freedom,” I snap. “I also personally know the fucking dean, so you may want to say your goodbyes when they come back out, and you may want to watch your step.”

“My steps will only be taken with permission. I would never bully her into being my friend. And that’s what she is—a friend.”

I want to smash his face in.

“You say your fucking goodbyes and I won’t make that call.” I stand up, pushing the chair back. It falls to the ground. “You may wanna pick that up.”

When I get to the bar, Mitch has a drink ready for me.

“I’m driving.”

He holds out his hand. “Not tonight. I got you.”

I shake my head, because being drunk around London right now after her little show and after that fuck’s bullshit, I know better than to tip more than one or two back.

“Just one then?” Mitch asks.

I take the beer. “Yeah, thanks.”

“You wanna talk about it?” he whispers as I look down at my phone and hit the Facebook app.

“No.” I hit Ava’s name, hoping someday she will fucking post something, like a picture of my niece and nephew. Maybe even some shit that she’s hurting, or a Bible verse. Both would normally annoy the fuck out of me, but right now, with her fresh on my mind, anything would be okay. Hell, a picture of what she’s eating would suffice. Instead, there is still nothing.

I shove my phone in my pocket and watch that fucker who should be leaving walk on the stage. I also watch London and her girls come out and stand in front of him, like some sort of groupies. And it fucking hits me. This is what she’s used to. This is her thing—music.

As much as I hate the fuck, Maddox did a background check on him and said he’s fine, no threat. The fuck he’s not. Right now, he’s the closest thing to home she’s got, and I’m doing all I can to fuck it up so she stays focused on her dreams.

I can mind fuck it all day long, but I made a promise to the closest thing my niece and nephew have to Thomas, and I have to keep it, regardless of how badly I want to take what she offers every damn time I see her.

I look at Mitch, who’s watching me. “What?”

He sighs. “Need a favor.”

I shake my head. “No, no fucking way.”

“Just one?” he pleads.

I look at the guys. Half the defensive line at SU are staring at me.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I tip back my beer. “I need another.”

Mitch smirks. “Yeah, you do.”

When the fuck finishes singing, I watch him walk off stage, hoping the fucker jets. I really don’t want to ruin some fuck’s life because he wants to nail London, but I sure as fuck will. Hell, he’s made it easy.

Mitch hands me another beer, and I toss it back fast. When I set the empty bottle on the bar, Mitch hands me another.

“That’s my limit,” I tell him before taking a drink.

I stand against the bar and watch the fuck kiss her fucking hand. I want to punch him in that fucking face and dunk her hand in bleach. Then I watch him walk toward the door and give a fuck less if I’m staring him down. I watch London as she watches him walk out. She looks a little disappointed, and for some reason, that brings me no fucking joy.

I pull my arm away from Sally and look at Mitch. “We have a table.”

“Yeah, we do.” He claps his hands together and rubs them back and forth. “Let’s go.”

Halfway there, I look back to see Mitch is behind me with four beers in his hands.

“They’re under,” I remind him.

He smirks. “I’m not going without gifts.”

“Whipped, you’re fucking whipped.”

I sit down in the recently occupied chair, London’s sweater still slung over my shoulder. I pull it off and extend it out. “You need this.”

“No, I’m good, but thanks for holding it for me.” She chuckles and looks away.

Mitch sets the beers on the table and looks at me like what the fuck, because we are clearly being ignored.

“I brought gifts,” Mitch says over the music.

Lisa looks over and reaches for one. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

When Mitch nods to the stage, we set our phones on the table. Lisa, the one who I didn’t know her name, looks at me, and I mouth “Watch them?”

She nods.

“You fucking owe me,” I say as I stand up.

“I owe you what?” London asks, hand on her hip.

I take her sweater, set it over her head, and then walk away while hearing her giggle.

Damn, I like that sound.

On stage, I look at Mitch, Downs, Tank, and Schooler as I take my rightful spot in the center.

The music starts, and I realize I didn’t even ask which of the stupid songs we did last year at the fundraiser he chose for tonight.

When “Glad You Came” begins, I almost laugh.

“Please don’t remind me, man,” Mitch appeals to my good-natured side.

We turn from the audience and stare at the wall. This damn song was choreographed and shit.

As the first note starts, I turn, mic in hand, and begin.

“The sun goes down, the stars come out, and all that counts, is here and now. My universe will never be the same. I’m glad you came.”

I see London watching me. She’s shocked but smiling.

Each of the guys take a turn, one at a time, to face the crowd on their eighth count.

London, Lisa, Christy, and Jamie all hurry to the stage.

Mitch takes the next part and steps forward. He bends down and points to Jamie, who giggles and covers her face.

Looks like his plan may work.

Each of us have our moment in the fucking spotlight, and even though we haven’t rehearsed this shit in almost a year, we nail it. I mean, it’s a fucking song with probably fifty words total and repetitive as fuck; how can we mess it up?

I finish the song, and yeah, I look at London while I sing. She has her phone held up. Normally, I would be pissed—I don’t like my shit aired—but I guarantee bitch boy is long forgotten.

When we finish, the place blows up in applause, and I am the first to leave the damn stage. My boys, though, they like it.

London walks over with what I thought was her phone, but as she clips the SU cover on it and hands it to me, I realize it’s mine.

“I added it to your snap story.”

“What?” I want to yell at her, but I know damn well that’s what she wants, and I’m kind of used to not giving in to London’s demands, innuendoes, or the fact she pushes buttons like a damn switchboard operator. Then...Then I see that Ava not only saw it, but sent a message.

- You still got it, Loggie. When you go viral, make sure you tell them that you want to thank me for teaching you the words and the moves...Your favorite sis.

I smile and look up. London is looking at me curiously.

“You’re safe. Ava sent a message. Not pissed at you anymore.”

She fakes annoyed.

“And how the hell did you crack my password?”

“Your dad’s jersey number and yours. It isn’t rocket science.”

1242.

When I look next to me, she’s looking at my phone.

“Well, aren’t you going to respond?”

I nod. “Got to. This is the first time in months she’s even remarked on anything I posted.”

She wraps her hand around my wrist. “I’m so sorry. I know what it’s like to have a sibling lose someone.”

I nod, acknowledging her words. Knowing she does, there isn’t much else to say.

- Kiss the kids for me. Tell them I can’t wait to see them on Thanksgiving. Oh, and I guess I wanna see you, too. Are you still huge?...Your favorite bro.

I look at London. “They aren’t even going to remember me. Sucks.”

“I’m not sure you’re that easily forgotten.” She’s looking at me, her pale blue eyes a little cloudy. “I mean, that performance was just...” She smiles a big London smile.

“Just what?” I ask, smiling back.

She doesn’t say shit. She just keeps looking at me.

I reach up to pull my hat down, and she shakes her head, still smiling.

“No hiding them now. You must feel naked.”

“I seem to be short a hat.” I mock-glare at her.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” She licks her lips, and I feel my balls tighten.

“You gonna sing again?”

“Why? You want me to lose more layers?”

I feel my eyes and cock bulge a little.

“I mean, I know I’m not Toxic, but you know, I was told once I had good boobs.”

“London, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper.

“I feel tingly,” she whispers.

“What?” I now need a fucking cold shower or a phone call from my mom.

“My tongue.” She sticks it out, and I see it looks a little fucking bigger than usual. “What do you think?”

“I think I know that tongue better than anyone and...What did you eat? Are you allergic to anything?”

I grab her arm and head toward the bathroom to get better lighting. When I walk into the girls’ room, the whispers begin immediately.

“Is that Logan Links?”

“Oh man, I’d like him to drag me into the bathroom.”

“I heard his dick is huge.”

“Leave,” I groan at them all.

“They’re fine, Logan. Be nithe.” The “nice” tells me my suspicions are correct.

When I reach in her back pocket, she gasps, and so do the girls who won’t leave.

“Get the fuck out!” I yell, which finally makes them scamper.

I hand her the phone. “Call your mom and ask her what you’re allergic to.”

“No way. I’f been drinking.”

And if your tongue doesn’t stop swelling, you won’t be breathing.

“Come on, London. You call or I will.”