Wrecked Book 3 (6 page)

Prettier than the blonde, I thought. She didn’t look like a ditzy bimbo, I thought. And that was worse. Instead, she looked like she was a bit of a bad girl with her leather jacket and her nose piercing, but she also didn’t look like she was throwing herself at Logan.

In fact, I had a feeling that she was the kind of girl who didn’t throw herself at
anyone
. She was tough, I thought, and probably the perfect match for Logan.

Well, good for him, right?

I was moving on and so was he. On the same night even. How
perfect
. We couldn’t be together, no point in being lonely, right?

I shoved off my robe, tossing it into the hamper. I marched naked to my drawers to find my underwear and bra. Searching through pair after pair, I couldn’t figure out why none of them looked like what I wanted right now.

Logan had found his perfect rebel biker chick and I had found my premed, stand up citizen, probably likes to play
Yahtzee
with his grandparents type guy and everything was perfect.

No one had to have hurt feelings anymore. It was great. Just
great
.

I found a matching set of panties and bra. They were both black with lacy trim along the seams. The bra was a push up, making my already ample cleavage look even better, and the panties hung low on my hips and were in a bikini cut, the lace surprisingly soft along my shaved skin.

In fact, if Logan had a girlfriend and I had a boyfriend—who was not destined to become a criminal or a cage fighter or something else equally ridiculous—then Miranda would have to see that I had changed, right? I could prove to her that I was a stand up citizen now. No doing bad, stupid things anymore.

I debated what to wear tonight, going through my closet kind of aimlessly for a while as I tried to find the perfect outfit. I passed pants and blouses and that stupid interview dress that made me look like Wednesday from the
Adams Family
. None of it was what I wanted.

Finally, my hand stopped at the silky dress that I hadn’t worn in a long time. It was a layered bodycon dress, with the under layer being a dark, racy red and the outer layer being a black mesh. The combination gave the dress a shimmering, morphing type quality that was seductive if you wanted it to be. Or if you added a nice jacket, it could be formal.

Of course, it was a little short to be formal. It stopped somewhere at my upper thighs and for a moment I reconsidered the dress.

The walk was going to be cold. Did I really want to be wearing something that was going to expose the majority of my legs?

My mind flashed to Logan with his arm around that girl…

I pulled the dress on over my head and grabbed a long coat and scarf. It would keep me mostly warm anyway and if it got too cold, I’d just walk faster. Movement worked great for keeping people warm…

My first date with Derek happened to be the second time I saw Miranda. We were all at a bar and I wasn’t sure how she got in, since I knew she wasn’t twenty one yet, but then, neither was I so it was clearly possible.

The more I learned about Miranda, the more I realized she wasn’t the same little girl that I remembered.

I had my arm snaked through Derek’s and was smiling easily as he led the way to a table. It wasn’t a fancy place or anything, no reservations or expectations, just a bar, a dance floor, and some tables set up for those looking to avoid the humiliation of dancing.

Derek led me to one of these.

He pulled out my chair for me, and I sat, pulling my dress hem under me. There was a quick moment where I worried my dress was too sexy for the occasion, but looking around me it became clear I fit right in.

Before Derek took his seat, he leaned down near me so that his warm breath tickled at my ear as he whispered, “Do you want anything to drink?” He used his thumb to motion towards the bar.

I looked up at him, and offered a smile, shaking my head. He smiled at me as he nodded his head once before heading to the bar. I watched him go and decided, as I had the other night, that he’s handsome. He was tall with those lean muscles that were strong enough to lift me, if not to toss me around, and his hair was a deep shade of brown that he styled very deliberately. He was clean cut and nicely dressed, but with just enough sex appeal to make me wonder what he looked like beneath those stylish clothes.

My mind flashed to an image of Logan’s scarred skin, covered with intricately woven tattoos.
One for each scar
.

The image caused a mixture of heat and sympathy to rush through me. I didn’t think that there could be anyone who looked—or felt, my mind whispered treacherously—like Logan did.

Not in a million years.

Derek came back a moment later carrying two drinks. He placed one in front of me. “Club soda,” he called in answer to my unasked question as he placed it down. His looked to be a foamy pale ale.

I squashed the urge to ask for one myself, instead sliding my nonalcoholic drink closer to me. “Thanks.”

I asked him to dance for little reason other than distraction and to enjoy the nearness of someone else’s body—and maybe to secretly pretend it was Logan. But instead of saying yes and taking the chance to slide his hands along my body in time with the music, Derek’s cheeks turned a little pink. He laughed, running a hand through his hair.

Looking at me, his eyes a pleasant, warm shade of brown, he said, “Sorry, but any rhythm I might have goes as far as music and not a lick farther. There are three year olds who dance better than I do.”

His self-depreciation was so light and he sounded so amused with himself that I couldn’t help but smile. I’d been so wrapped up in my past and the promise of the train wreck that was Logan, I had almost forgotten how nice it was to just enjoy an easy going moment with someone.

“Well, in your defense,” I said, smiling slyly, “I’m pretty sure those three year olds are on
Dance Moms
and their lives suck.”

Derek grinned at me, folding his arms along the table so he could lean a little closer to me. “True. I should be grateful that I have no idea how to coordinate my feet—and that my mom isn’t insane.”

My face fell a little. My own mother wasn’t crazy. She was probably one of the most sane,
responsible
people out there—which was exactly why I found myself fighting so hard against her. When I was younger, I
had
thought she was crazy. Talking about medical school and all the things I had to be and to do with my life. She had my whole life and persona planned out by the time I was out of the womb.

And I couldn’t do it. I knew long before she did that I would never live up to her beautiful dreams, but she kept pushing and pushing.

Then, she stopped. She figured out the hard way that I was never going to be that model person she had always envisioned.

I just wished it hadn’t been something so awful that convinced her.

“—at least that’s what Kass said,” Derek said, unaware that I had drifted into myself and missed half of what he had just said. “I can’t imagine making such a huge change like that. California to Massachusetts?” He shook his head. “That’s crazy. Do you regret it at all?”

I smiled at him, shoving aside tainted memories of home. “Not right now,” I told him, batting my eyelashes just a little to let him know that I was talking about him.

It worked. His eyes became bright and his smile softened to one that was almost tender. Sliding his hand over the surface of the table, he brushed his fingertips along mine. “Good,” he said.

The rest of the date went well. We talked about everything—his dreams of being a singing physician slash family man and my hopes to be a great business woman; what it was liking growing up (for him, not for me - I wasn’t ready to go there with anyone just yet) and his secret fear of yipping puppies. By the end of the night I felt like I’d known him forever. We were a comfortable pair who could tell jokes or walk in silence without worrying about what the other was thinking.

That’s how things were supposed to be, right?

Things were going so well that I almost didn’t spot her. I was so focused on Derek, that I was pleasantly numb to the things that were driving my world upside down. But my subconscious was all too happy to point her out to me.

In a bright yellow dress that was clinging to her tiny, frail looking body, Miranda danced in the middle of the floor. Her dance was seductive, closer to sex than dancing, and her partner was more interested in trying to feel her up than matching her rhythm.

He definitely wasn’t Mark, either.

As soon as I spotted her, my heart dropped into my stomach. I couldn’t even hear Derek anymore as he continued on with the story about his tabby gray cat who went missing when he was a kid. All I could focus on was Miranda, dancing as though she didn’t have a care in the damn world.

I did my best to write it off as a coincidence. She was just dancing and letting off steam and this was a popular club for college kids. She was new in town and was just getting to know the place, so she came here. Right?

I had almost managed to convince myself when she caught my eye. Still dancing, her lips dropped the smile that had been on her face, her expression turning to one of pure hatred.

She’d spotted me and it was clear how she loathed me.

But what was worse than knowing that she hated me was that she was focused on me. More than that, she was
looking
for me. I couldn’t say how I knew it, other than the knowledge that Miranda wasn’t satisfied with how things had gone. Her life had been torn apart by the loss of her sister. And as I sat there with Derek babbling on, me not hearing a word of what he was saying, I realized that Miranda had a plan.

She was going to ruin my life, too.

After that, the date died down pretty quickly. It had been a good time, but as soon as I saw Miranda, it had been a kill joy. I didn’t want to be out anymore. All I wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed, and pretend like none of this was happening.

Derek insisted on walking me home when we finally called it a night, even though I told him that I was fine getting there on my own and he didn’t have to. He told me that he would feel better if I didn’t walk so far (it was only a few blocks) this late (it was only around ten) alone (and there were more than a few college kids out). The gesture was sweet, if unnecessary, and had me smiling, while the company itself was nice, too.

We were mostly silent as we walked, passing several other college students with varying schedules. Some were headed home like me, and some were just now headed out for a night on the town. I didn’t recognize any of them in any depth, so we were undisturbed as we made our way.

The night was chilly, though not wet at least, and my hands were so cold they had become mostly numb. So when his hand slipped into mine, I didn’t protest and didn’t mind. The heat from his body caused a slight rush of heat that tingled its way up my arm.

When we got to my house, he walked me up the porch to my door. We paused there, that awkward moment of ‘what now?’ spreading between us.

I could tell he wanted to kiss me. I just wasn’t sure if
I
wanted him to kiss me.

He thought it over carefully in his head. I could see the contemplation on his face as he ran through the pros and cons of risking it. I could have solved all of that worry and thinking by simply deciding for him, but that was the trouble: I couldn’t.

I didn’t know if I wanted him to or not, which was part of the problem. Uncertainty was okay—when you didn’t just have sex for the first time with a guy that you couldn’t seem to keep your hands off no matter how hard you tried and who had a way of worming into your thoughts even when you were dating someone else.

But when this was the case, I was pretty sure uncertainty was a problem. If I didn’t want to lock lips with him, then was it really a good date? If I wasn’t dying to have his arms wrapped around me—and not just because it was cold outside—then was there any point in taking this any farther?

The answers to those questions were actually pretty clear to me and under normal circumstances I would accept them. Clearly, Derek was not the guy on my mind and definitely not the one I
really
wanted. But he was the one I
should
want. He was the sweet guy who was going places, a future in sight and a plan backed by determination in his head. He was the practical choice, while Logan was a wild card that was destined to drag me right back to where I couldn’t afford to be anymore.

Which was why when Derek finally decided and leaned towards me, I let him fit his lips over mine. I even closed my eyes and enjoyed it, his soft lips warm and just a little moist as his mouth opened ever so slightly. His hands cupped my cheeks and that felt good, too. I focused on how he felt, his body near to mine, the way he smelled, the heat spreading through my skin at the points of contact between our two bodies.

It felt good and if I focused on that, I easily lost myself.

He pulled away after a moment, leaving the kiss warm and most definitely interested, but not full of raging, unquenchable passion. Which was probably a good thing, because I wasn’t ready for that again.