Shh! (4 page)

“I’m such a disaster,” I muttered as my cheeks began to burn.

“Hey.” Logan’s large eyes captured mine. “It’s just a little water, no big deal.”

Maybe it was a build up of the past few days, or maybe it was the tenderness in his voice, but for a split second I lost all my inhibitions, all sense of what was important and how I should behave. I slumped back into the chair and didn’t fight the painful lump in my throat or the burning behind my eyes.

It was a big deal. Everything was a big deal.

“Olivia …” Logan’s voice was soft, warm. “If you’re a disaster, then I’m a fucking tornado hot on the heels of a tsunami that was caused by an earthquake.”

I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my lips. I glanced up at him, only he wasn’t all the way up there; his face was level with mine, his blond hair catching on his stubbled cheek as he leaned in. He’d pulled another chair over and sat so close his jean-covered knees bumped mine.

“What about the flash flood?” I bit my tongue, because I was the flash flood. The proof was right in front of us, in a puddle on the floor.

A smile crept onto his lips and he leaned further in until his face was right up in mine. “I’m the fire that burned so intense it evaporated.”

His gaze burned as hot as his words and heat radiated off every part of me, too. Sweat trickled down my back. He was too close, way too close, but I couldn’t move and I wasn’t sure I really wanted to.

I must have stopped breathing, because when he pulled back I sucked in a huge breath.

“Do you like music?” Logan asked.

“I … I …” Something had severed the pathways between my brain and mouth. Logan watched me while I looked at him. He tucked the chin-length strand of hair behind his ear; his eyes still held the same heat.

“Perfect,” he said, standing up. “There’s an awesome band playing up at the university bar next Friday.”

Was that? Did he ... my heart leapt into my throat, filling the space between with a delicious warmth. Logan Hays wanted me to go ...

No, no, no.
I wasn’t going on a date with him. With anyone. No matter how hot his smile was, those eyes, his ridiculously toned biceps ... Darn it. He was too hot, which meant this had to be just another huge joke. I needed to toughen up, before he faked an orgasm. In a real cafe this time. I shook my head, but Logan had already turned around and was walking away with a notepad sticking out of his back pocket.

He returned a moment later with a fresh jug of water. “Now, what can I get for you?”

“Umm … I … ahh …”

“Breakfast? Cake? Really early lunch?”

I still wasn’t, couldn’t, go out with him. I just … how did I know he was genuine? I didn’t. Besides I wasn’t attracted to him … not really.

“About next Friday—”

“Pancakes, eggs, toast, fruit salad. What would you like?”

“I … big breakfast, please, but I can’t—”

“Coffee, tea, OJ?”

“OJ. I’m not going out with you.”

“Did I ask you out?” Logan tucked his pen behind his ear, and his gaze flashed away from mine. “I thought I told you about a gig you should check out.”

Foot.
Mine was firmly planted in my mouth, and I couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Again. Logan turned and walked toward the counter, but not before I caught the tiny smile tugging at his lips.

****

The rest of my day was uneventful. There was no one from Oxley in any of my Tuesday classes, and I managed not to bump into anyone on campus. I even made it back to my room having only passed a small group of people who sat in the courtyard. Some jerk wolf whistled, but I kept my chin high and didn’t stop. I needed to keep myself grounded, so I didn’t lose the nerve to confront Christian.

After heating one of those ordinary-tasting packaged meals in the microwave which sat in our block’s tiny kitchen, I headed back to my room and flicked the laptop on. I didn’t bother pulling out any text books, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. I’d been trapped in my own head all day, thinking about Christian, my future, my presidential campaign, but mostly thinking about Logan.

Settling at the wooden desk, with my creamy chicken pasta balanced on the edge, I hovered over the Facebook icon on my favourites bar. Nope. Instead, I opened my inbox and there it was. How did I forget all about Stalker Boy’s email when I saw him at the cafe? I should have asked how in the heck he got my email address, and why he was emailing me in the first place. Sure it was kind of sweet that he noticed my lack of notes and thought to offer his, but it was also kind of weird that he had somehow procured my contact information.

I scanned his email again and shook my head, then clicked on an email from Savvy I’d somehow missed yesterday. It was time stamped ten-o-nine Sunday morning.

Babe! What happened to you last night? You just up and disappeared. I know it’s study day, but WE HAVE TO TALK.

Let me know what time’s cool or I’ll come by when it’snot.

My stomach flipped. She knew what this was about and if I’d checked my emails on Sunday—or hell, even answered my door—instead of lying on my bed staring at the ceiling, this could have been dealt with sooner. Stupid, mopey past self. Busy or not, maybe I should try and track her down before I talked to Christian.

I finished off my pasta, and went to look for Savvy to find out what she knew. It was half seven, so she should be done with dinner. I doubted she’d be in her room since she said she was busy, but it was the first place I headed anyway. A quick dash across the courtyard and up her staircase, then I raised my fist to rap on her door. No answer. The little whiteboard attached to the front read
BBL
. I sighed; fat lot of info that gave me. Knowing Savvy, later could mean anytime between now and Thursday.

The quiet girl from last year opened a door and stepped out into the hallway. Molly was in flannelette PJs that were as daggy as her unbrushed bed-hair. Her gaze flicked from her big bird slippers to me.

“Hi, Olivia,” she mumbled as she shuffled past.

“Molly,” I called. “Do you know where Savannah is?”

“Ah, no. But ...” She glanced back toward the door she just came out of. “Are you okay?”

Wow, even Molly had heard about Saturday night.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe them.”

“Pardon me?”

“The rumours about you. I don’t believe them.”

“Gee, thanks Molly.” I ran a hand across the back of my neck. “That means a lot.”

She smiled as she disappeared into her room. And there it was; further proof there were rumours flying around about me. Just freaking great. If it was anything damaging I could say goodbye to the job at Ella’s father’s firm Dad had lined up. Lawyers have to live up to a certain standard and if my reputation was ruined, there’d be no hope of recovering. Deakin Parry Associates was my dream. Curling my arms across my roiling stomach, I turned on my heel and went straight down the stairs. Once in the courtyard, my gaze flicked up to Christian’s window, and sure enough the light was on. He owed me an explanation and he was going to give it to me.

I marched up the stairs, past the middle floor and all the way to the top floor of block L. A fat beam of light fell into the hall from Christian’s open doorway. I walked right up to it and went inside without knocking.

There were people everywhere. Or so it felt, because for the first time ever I was uncomfortable in the crowd; the huge room seemed tiny. They all sat in a rough circle on the floor playing cards. Probably poker.

My gaze focused on my ex-boyfriend. “We need to talk, and don’t give me any of that ‘not now’ crap. It’s happening. Now.”

“Dude, I think you better talk to her.” Dane climbed to his feet, the Celtic disc on his surfer necklace slapping against his chest as he tossed a handful of playing cards onto the floor. My gaze never wavered from Christian, whose shoulders dropped. I rocked back and forth on my heels, my arms clinging to my tummy while his friends filed out. Their absence revealing
my
friend, hanging behind Dane.

My jaw tightened. She was here, with them. That was why she was busy. Savannah mouthed something as she slipped away, but I didn’t bother trying to make it out; I was too upset. I’d needed her, but she was hanging out with the guys who’d started the rumour which caused all the ruin Olivia moments of the past few days.

Christian sighed and ran a hand through his chocolatey hair. “I’m sorry about Saturday night. It shouldn’t have gone down like that. I was—”

“Drunk, Christian. But you weren’t that drunk.”

“Yeah, I was ...”

He glanced toward the door where Savvy, Dane and the other guys had disappeared.

Christian pushed himself off the floor without bothering to gather up the discarded cards. He walked across the room, and closed the door softly. He looked just as good as always, in cargos and polo-shirt.

“Olivia …”

I met his gaze, and his brow furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. “We’re not right together.”

I took a deep breath, and he dropped onto the edge of his bed. A bed we’d shared only a week ago. Things had seemed right enough for him then when he was getting his kicks. “What did you say about our sex life?”

His head snapped up. “Nothing.”

Yeah, right.
The laugh that tore from me was bitter. Of course he’d lied.

“Then why is every guy in college either hitting on or harassing me?”

He shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling in such a carefree motion that I wanted to grab them and shake him. The liar had said something—he just wouldn’t own it. His gaze slipped away from me again.

“Stop lying, Christian.”

His gaze flashed to mine, his eyes angry. “Fine. You want a reason? I’ll give you the goddamn reason.”

I opened my mouth, then thought better and snapped it shut so he’d keep talking.

“This is my final year, Olivia. It's all right for you, second year's not the be all and end all. This is important shit. I can’t cope with the lack of sleep anymore. It’s screwing with my head, with my grades, and my future. Just lying there awake while you rub yourself all fucking night long, then every time I try to touch you, you push me away like I’m a filthy pervert—it’s killing me.”

My jaw dropped. What was he saying? I’d never do that, or had done anything like it.
Rub myself?

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re obviously not that into me, and I don’t give a shit anymore.”

I’d never pushed him away. Whenever he’d wanted sex I’d been into it. Into him. Sure, initially we’d taken it slow, but he’d never once pushed the point, and I’d never once turned him down. It was an unspoken agreement between us, and we’d both agreed. Hadn’t we? When we’d started having sex last November just before the end of year break, it was good.

“Not into you? I don’t freaking rub myself, and I have never pushed you away.”

Christian laughed, cold and bitter as the air outside. Then he slowly shook his head. “Who’s the liar now? Always perfect, aren’t you?”

I didn’t understand why he was lying. Why lie about something like that?
Unless he …

“If you didn’t love me, you could have just said so. No need for stupid stories.”

He scoffed and stood, pushing past me and yanking his door open. I looked from it to him. This was it? He was done? Well, I was done too. Done with this conversation, done with him, done with his blatant lies.

“That’s bullcrap.” I walked out of his room.

CHAPTER FOUR

I tried going down to the dining room again, but knowing that the whispers and stares were because people thought I masturbated inappropriately was just too much. Then there were the guys who thought they were funny, or the ones who thought it was a turn on. Those were the worst.

Friday rolled around and I’d eaten through the stash of food in my mini fridge¸ so I ordered a pizza. They said it would arrive in thirty minutes, so exactly twenty-nine minutes later I shot downstairs and to the front car park. The pizza boy wasn’t there yet. Great.

I tapped my purse on my thigh and waited while the odd car drove past as I tried to ignore the noise that carried from inside: music, voices, laughter, probably people enjoying a few drinks before they went out later.

With any luck, the partiers would stay inside until I was safely back in my room. No doubt I would be an even bigger joke than normal after a few beers. That freaking dumb rumour still hadn’t settled.

Voices moved closer, headed for the car park. I pulled my coat around me and shuffled from foot to foot.
Come on, Pizza Dude, hurry up.

“Olivia?”

My stomach dropped. Just great; I’d been seen. Now there’d be no slipping back inside without any embarrassing moments. Plastering on a smile, I turned to the sound of the voice. Three silhouettes trudged over the small arched bridge that led into Oxley. Making out the faces was near impossible; they were definitely all girls though.

“What are you doing out here alone?”

Thank gosh it was just Molly. She peeled away from two of her friends and walked toward me.

A little car with a tacky pizza box attached to its roof chose just that moment to zip into the parking lot, and I waved my hand in its general direction. “You know, just got a pizza. Curry night sucks.”

“It’s pasta night.”

Sprung.

“Oh … well, that sucks too.”

Molly turned to her friends. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

The other girls nodded and continued walking. What was she playing at?

“I really feel like some pizza.” Molly smiled at me. “If you’ve got enough to share.”

The pizza guy strolled over, carrying one of those red packs that keep food hot. Opening it, he said, “Ham and Pineapple, pan base?”

“Yes, thanks.” I unzipped my purse and handed over a twenty. The guy passed off the pizza box, and fished in his pocket for some change which he dropped in my outstretched hand.