Wild

“Yeah.” I grabbed the bowl of popcorn and swept into the kitchen with it. When I turned he had stripped off his shirt, treating me to the familiar, mouth-watering sight of his chest again.

I hurried past the futon and into the bathroom. Staring at my reflection, I brushed out my hair until it crackled and shone. My brown eyes looked both tired and exhilarated beneath my dark brows. This was the third night in one week that I had stayed up so late. My eyes looked bloodshot. And yet there was a flush to my skin and I was breathing hard.

“Get a grip,” I whispered to myself. Shaking my head, I made quick work of brushing my teeth. Taking a final look at myself in the mirror, I stepped out into the dark apartment.

“Need me to turn on the light?” Logan asked, his disembodied voice drifting from the futon.

“I can get to the bed.” I made my way without mishap to the bed.

Once under the covers, I curled onto my side and strained my ears for the sound of Logan stirring on the futon.

Clearing my throat, I called out. “Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, Pearls.”

My chest squeezed at the nickname. For some reason it didn’t annoy me at all. Not tonight. It felt more like an endearment. I brought my knees to my chest, curling into a tight ball and biting down hard on the fleshy pad of my thumb, fighting the urge to invite Logan into bed with me.

It was going to be a long night.

By some miracle, my exhaustion won out and I fell asleep, waking again to an empty apartment.

I sat up in the bed, blinking my eyes in the morning light and staring at the futon, seeing Logan there as he was last night, desperately trying to tickle me, tracing his name on me like some painter immortalizing his name forever on a piece of art.

My hand drifted to my stomach, convinced I still felt his name there.

Chapter 10

MAY SLIPPED INTO JUNE and summer arrived.

Logan didn’t ask to crash at the apartment anymore, and I tried not to wonder why. According to the shift schedule, he was still working. He just wasn’t knocking on my door at the end of the night. Maybe it got too weird that night he wrote his name on my skin. Despite the chemistry between us, I wasn’t going to sleep with him. Maybe he decided he already had one female friend and didn’t need another one. I did force him to watch a chick flick and then sleep on a bumpy futon. Whatever the case, the days passed without any more encounters and I told myself it was for the best.

With the advent of summer, I didn’t need a jacket in the evenings anymore. Not that I was out too much at night. The mornings were still chilly though when I stepped outside Mulvaney’s into the smoky blue predawn for my morning runs. But by the time I finished my newly amended route that cut through a nearby park rather than campus, I was sweating and the crisp air felt good on my skin.

I developed a new summer routine. After my runs, I showered and headed to campus. I worked in the library through the afternoon. Usually by myself. I hadn’t seen Gillian since our first meeting. Sometimes Connor would join me, although he wasn’t tasked with compiling statistics. I didn’t mind his company. Working on research was a solitary task, and his presence kept me from getting lonely. There were several more coffee dates at the Java Hut, and I guess they were dates because he always paid.

I was usually home before dark. Lame existence, I knew. What twenty-year-old was in bed by ten? That was probably why I agreed when Connor asked me to dinner and a movie. To save me from total, utter lameness.

It was nice. Nice to be out with someone with similar interests. Even if all we ever talked about was Dr. Chase’s research project and mutual classes we’d both taken and his grad program and what I might do after graduation. So very adult. So very boring. Nothing like Logan, who said outrageous things that made my face burn fire. But who needed that?

I knew going out with Connor on a Friday night was a risk. I had timed most of my comings and goings around when Logan was working so we didn’t have to run into each other. The shift schedule was conveniently posted on a wall in the kitchen, and after I agreed to the date I had checked and seen that Logan was working that night. It had taken sheer willpower not to reschedule with Connor. I refused to be that big of a coward. So what if I saw him again? He wouldn’t try anything. He’d made that much clear. Not unless I expressly invited him, and that so wasn’t going to happen.

Mulvaney’s parking lot was packed. I knew it would be on a Friday night. As Connor pulled up to the curb and peered through the window at the rowdy line snaking out the back door, he looked concerned. “Want me to walk you in?”

“No, it’s fine. I can squeeze through.”

“You sure? I don’t mind.”

“I’m fine. Once I’m inside it’s a short walk to the kitchen and no one can go in there except staff. The door to my loft is in the back of the kitchen.” At his still dubious expression, I added, “It’s safe. Promise.”

His gaze flickered to mine, the brown eyes softening. “I had a really good time, Georgia.”

“Me, too.” I nodded, hating this part. The awkward good-night. Would he kiss me? Did I want him to? He must have read something in my demeanor because he settled back in his seat without making the dreaded move. “I’ll text you.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for tonight.”

When I opened the car door, all the sounds that had been muffled were suddenly amplified. It was like diving into a pool of voices and activity as I pushed through the back line.

“Hey!” one girl exclaimed. “No cuts. We’re waiting.”

I ignored her and kept moving until I spotted the familiar face of Chris, one of the bouncers checking IDs at the door.

He waved me through, snapping at people to get out of my way and let me pass.

“Thanks,” I said loudly over the din. He nodded and flashed me a smile.

I continued ahead, trying to hurry toward the kitchen, but there were a lot of people crowded around the counter, ready to place their orders, and they were very protective of their space, glaring at me like I was trying to cut ahead of them in line.

I felt out of place in my maxi dress. It was sleeveless, held up only by tiny halter straps that wrapped around my neck.

Good for a date, but not exactly what one wore to a bar, and I felt that keenly in the lingering looks I was getting.

“Excuse me,” I said to a trio of guys who blocked my path to the hatch door in the counter that I needed to reach. They all wore baseball caps and their faces were flushed from beer and heat.