Chasing Impossible
Page 8

Houston tosses out his arms. “So do I and I still smoke pot. That doesn’t mean he’s a narc.”
“But you wouldn’t lie about it. He lied. I don’t care if you’re a priest, I’ll sell to you. In fact, I do sell to one, but I won’t if he lies. Albert’s hiding something. He’s a liar, and if I were you, I’d watch your back. Do me a favor, Houston. Don’t bring anyone else to me as a client for a while. You need to clean up your own household before you bring guests to mine.”
Houston jams his fingers through his hair causing his hat to fall off. “Fuck.” After he cracks his knuckles, he says to me, “Are we still good?”
“We’re going to have to switch up how we do things. Not just with you, with everyone in your frat, but I’ll figure that out later.”
Houston shoves his hands into his pockets and his shoulders sag forward, reminding me of a child discovering it’s possible to disappoint a parent. “I’m sorry I brought this trouble.”
“Just don’t bring it again. I’m serious. I can’t afford to be busted.”
Houston leaves and I text Logan. I told you I needed to work. Not cool. Where are you?
Nothing. An annoying silent response. Typical Logan.
Rachel wants me to find you. Says you’re sick. Do you need me to play hero?
The smirk feels good on my face. If that doesn’t get Logan all hot and bothered and ready to play, little else will. But the smirk wilts as each second passes with no response. I loathe the tickling sensation of fear licking in my stomach.
Not fucking cool, Logan. Are you okay?
“We got a change up for everyone here,” calls the lead singer from the band. “A friend of ours is going to show us what he’s got on lead guitar.”
People near the stage scream and clap and I’m about ready to throw my cell against the wall. Stupid, stupid boy and stupid me for stupidly somewhat liking him and him thinking he can get away with not answering me.
“Give it up for our boy Logan.”
My eyes rip up, go for the stage, and my mind shifts into reverse, fast-forward, rewind, and then that smile that’s associated with the devil slides across my face.
Logan stands strong on the stage. Guitar strapped across his chest. Baseball cap backwards on his black hair. And when he strikes the strings of the guitar, those biceps flex beautifully.
That chord just struck a lot deeper than anyone could have imagined. Past my bones, past my muscles, and it’s created a nice warmth that’s curling around my belly. Liquid warmth.
The logical part of my brain demands that I walk away, but he’s the one that scared me by not answering back. He’s the one that’s causing all these alien emotions stirring in my veins.
Yeah, I shouldn’t kiss Logan. I should definitely leave a boy like that alone. But he returned and he’s the one that climbed onto the stage and is looking addictively sexy with that guitar.
Yep, shouldn’t kiss him, but I already told Rachel, I’m going to kiss the guitarist tonight. Wouldn’t want that one to be a lie, now, would I?
Logan
I lay my hand over the strings to stop the reverberating and the crowd goes insane. The lead singer, Danny, turns his head to me, grinning like a wolf over meat. “You killed it, brother.”
The blood’s pumping hard in my veins, and it’s a hell of a rush. I try not to think too hard if I’ll experience this same rush night after night, but for now—I’ll take the high.
I made more than a few mistakes, but not nearly as many as their other guitarist. I’m not the best around, but I’m not the worst. Just looking for a rush. Just looking for a way out.
I pull my guitar off and Danny walks over to me. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re in. I’ve got to talk to the rest of the band, but I can’t imagine them saying no. We’ll let you know.”
We share a short shake and the other members of the band pat my back as I walk off the stage and head to my guitar case. The beat still pounds through my body. Sly taught me my first chords when I was seven and I’ve been messing around with the instrument since.
Two girls slide into my space right as I lay down my guitar. One redhead. One blonde. The redhead touches me and her intent is perfectly clear. “Hi.”
“Hey.” Both girls are tight, wound up and ready to go. Already bypassed a few girls today because of Abby, and when I offered Abby more, she chose to walk away. Maybe I should stop my chasing now and take on these two to help me forget.
“You rocked it out,” she says.
“Yeah, he did, and now you need to leave.” Abby slips between me and the two girls. They shuffle away, and if they say anything, I don’t hear it as I’m too busy enjoying how Abby’s eyes devour me. “I didn’t know you played.”
Same damn reaction every time I see her—a quick burn in my veins. Hazel eyes, soft red lips, long chestnut hair that has loose waves, and a body that begs to be touched.
And touching her would be the equivalent of playing with radioactive plutonium. Might not know at first the goods are killing you, but you’ll notice the burns later. I switch my focus back to packing up my gear. “That’s the second time you’ve blocked me tonight, and you’re aware I play.”
“I meant the guitar, and as I said before, you can do better.”
“With the guitar or the girls?”
“Both.”
I like that the girl who lies sometimes tells the truth. “Mind pointing out who then? I’m tired of going home alone.”
I wait for her quick comment, the game to start. Instead, Abby invades my personal space, crossing lines she always dances on. Her scent envelops me first. A smell that fits her. A scent that’s bold and wild and before I can breathe that heady aroma again, Abby winds her arms around my neck, knots her fingers into my hair under my hat, drags my head down and kisses me.
Abby
His lips are hot and soft and tasting him is like standing outside during an electrical storm. Almost as if he was struck by the same bolt of lightning, Logan jerks and then is quick in joining the game.
He wastes no time, sliding one hand along my spine, causing goose bumps on my skin. Curling his other hand along my hip, sending heat to places that are typically secrets. Pressing me to him, that one move promising lots of wicked things.
Our mouths move. Nibbles on my lower lip, a lick of his tongue and my mind whirls. All of his efforts are a fight to gain control. But he’s on my turf, he’s playing by my rules, and I’ll be the one causing Logan to lose his mind.
I skim my fingernails down his neck, loving the warm feel of his skin, the rough evening stubble against his jawline. Logan’s muscles tighten in response and the ends of my mouth turn up. That’s right. I’m the one causing his body to respond. I’m the one making Logan think only of me.
I’ve done what I’ve wanted. I’ve kissed the boy, and as my fingers dawdle across his biceps in the search for his chest to push him away, Logan weaves his arm around my waist and we spin.
Me against the wall, his body sweetly crushing mine, and when I shift I suck in a breath with the thrilling sensation of the friction created. He stares down at me with the most exhilarating eyes that are so dark they’re practically black. We’re both breathing hard, we’re both moments from an explosion.
“You don’t play fair,” I say a lot more breathlessly than I would have preferred.
“I’m playing by the same rule book you are.”
I could kiss that pretentious, arrogant expression off his face. “I don’t play by rules.”
“I know.” Logan sweeps his thumb over my cheek and the caress is too sweet. Too heartbreakingly emotional and that’s not what I’m going for, but when he presses his body into mine, specifically his hips, my entire body rocks with the intense rush.
“We really doing this, Abby?” he whispers.
I bite my bottom lip and he watches. Lust smolders between us. I just meant to kiss him, and I’ve reached my goal. I should inch him back, give him a wink, and blow a kiss as I walk away, but I’m excellent at selfish. “At least for a few more minutes.”
“Fine, but we’re not doing it here.”
Logan
“Seriously, I didn’t know you played guitar.” Abby sits on the table next to me, watching as I wind up my cord that led to the amp. Her legs are crossed and she leans back on her hands and that motion causes her to be mouthwatering in the dancing spotlight. “Or any musical instruments.”
I wind the cord up faster. The moment I’m packed, I’m driving her to the brook in Bullitt County, grabbing a sleeping bag, hopping into the bed of my truck with Abby and we’re picking up where we left off.
“You plan on joining their band?”
I glance at Abby out of the corner of my eye and say nothing. Irritated with my silence, her expression darkens and she tries again. “Why did you play tonight? Why not tell anyone you could play guitar? Why not tell any of us you were playing? People care about that shit.”
More nothing from me.
“I kissed you so that buys me an answer.”
I lean into Abby and she slips her tongue across my lips when I steal another kiss. When I pull away she waggles her eyebrows. “At least we’ve finally raised the stakes of the game.”