Dangerous Boy (25 page)

Finally, I emerge on the other side and walk down the hall, my flats quiet on the tiles. At the end of the long hall, I push into the bathroom, the door silent on its hinges.

I stop halfway to the stall, staring at the blotchy, mascara-covered face in the mirror. Madison. She freezes.

We eye each other across the small room, neither of us moving.

And then Madison breaks the spell and turns back to the mirror, trying to wipe the dark trails off her cheek. “I got stood up, if you must know.”

I swallow. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs. “I put this stupid dance together, and I’m the one who gets dumped. Go figure.”

A weird sense of triumph swirls in my gut. But as soon as I take another look at the bedraggled mess formerly known as Madison Vaughn, it’s quickly dispelled by a stronger sense of pity. I reach over and pull a paper towel from the dispenser, getting it wet in the sink before I hand it to her. “Here.”

She eyeballs it for a long moment, and then accepts it, dabbing
away the dark tracks of mascara. I’ve never seen her looking less than perfect before. “Why are you being nice to me?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Not sure. Consider it a lapse in judgment.”

She smiles softly through her tears. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Yeah. Well, have a good one.” I turn away and head back down the hall, eager to leave the twilight zone behind.

“Hey,” she calls out. I stop in the door and turn to face her.

“Look, I know I’m a bitch to you,” she says. “It’s just, you have everything and you make it look so easy.”

I narrow my eyes. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”

She dabs at the last bit of mascara. Her eyes are still red, but the makeup looks better.

“I’m serious. You dress like a freaking farmer and guys like Logan still fall at your feet. And do you know how impressed Bick was when you signed up for that stupid welding class?”

I blink. “Oh,” I say, surprised she knows I’m in ag mechanics. “I mean, it’s not really like that.”

“You can date whoever you want, and your friends don’t care. They wouldn’t harass you for days and days. They wouldn’t mock the idea of you asking him to Tolo.”

All at once, understanding dawns.

She’s not talking about me anymore. She’s talking about her and Bick.

“You dumped him because your friends weren’t okay with it?”

“You have no idea what I do every day. How early I get up to get ready for school.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I say, as the world, I’m sure, spins and tilts and rearranges itself. Is Madison actually being
honest
with me? Did she actually
like
Bick, and then dump him because her friends didn’t approve?

Just then, the door swings open. A girl with red hair and a faux shredded dress—is she supposed to be a zombie?—walks in. She has too much makeup on to figure out who she is, but when she calls out, “Hey Madison!” I know they’re friends.

Madison leans into me, lowering her voice. “Don’t say anything. To anyone. Because if you do, you’ll regret it. Got it?”

And
there’s
the Madison I know and loathe. “Right. Sure.”

I turn and shove the door back open, stepping into the hall. My head spins as I walk back to the gym, pondering the weird twist of events. How is it possible Madison is jealous of
me?

“Why do you look so happy?”

I look up to see Allie standing just inside the double doors. She’s wearing a white, fluffy miniskirt, a sleeveless white turtleneck, and enormous white wings.

“Wow. You guys are going as angels?”

She grins. “I’m an angel, Adam’s the devil.”

I chuckle. “Nice.”

“Thanks, it was my idea,” she says, spinning in a little pirouette. “You look gorgeous too. Great dress.”

“Thanks.” I look down, fluff out my Victorian-style gown. “Where is the Prince of Darkness?”

“Parking the car. It’s pouring out there, so he dropped me off at the front,” she says, jutting a thumb over her shoulder.

“Oh.”

“Are you here with Logan?”

I nod.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” she asks, tipping her head to the side.

“We’re at a school event. Nothing’s going to happen. And as it turns out…he has a good reason for everything. I’ll fill you in on it after the dance,” I say, edging toward the gym doors. “I’m going to go find him.”

“Okay. Catch up with you later?”

“Yeah. We should all do a late dinner or something.”

“Sounds good.” As I step away, she touches my arm. “Be safe, okay?

I swallow and nod, turning to push my way back into the gym, elbowing through the crowds, just as the song transitions to something upbeat. I see Logan’s head bobbing above my classmates’, so I squeeze my way through the crowd until I’m standing in front of him.

He doesn’t even have to ask, just pulls me against him. We adjust to accommodate the uptempo, swaying and stepping more quickly. He holds me by the waist, his hips moving with mine. I laugh, because it feels a little awkward and oh-so-good at the same time.

I wrap my arms more tightly around him, pulling his body even closer against mine. Then I turn to his ear, whispering, “Number two.”

He pulls back and stares into my eyes, waiting for the answer.

I lean forward, my lips touching his ear. “This one has
nothing to do with my mom and everything to do with my dad.”

Logan raises a brow and waits for me, so I lean back in to shout into his ear. “I’m alone all the time, just waiting for someone like you to come along. I was afraid I’d fall for the wrong boy.”

Logan stares down at me for a moment, the softest of smiles tugging at his lips, and then pulls me against him, and I feel the heat of him up and down my body. “That’s one fear we don’t need to worry about,” he whispers into my ear.

He pulls back, tangling his fingers in my hair as he leans down to meet me, his lips crashing into mine.

Burning desire courses through my veins as he deepens the kiss and I slide my good arm up his shoulders, my hand gliding over his neck. My fingers burying themselves in his unruly dark hair.

When he tilts his head, my thumb slides further back, and as it pushes his hair aside, it meets bare skin.

I jerk. Bare skin, where it should be hair. We kiss again, and the thought dangles at the edge of my mind.

And then I freeze, horror sweeping over me. Just like that I’m standing in Logan’s basement, watching the darkness swarm in Daemon’s—Trent’s—eyes as he readjusts his ball cap, giving me a glimpse of that jagged, angry scar behind his left temple.

I wrench away. For a moment, his hands just tighten over me, and I have to push him, hard. He stumbles back and we stand there, three feet apart. I stare at him with wild eyes as he looks back, confused.

“You’re not Logan,” I say.

His jaw drops, but he recovers quickly, stepping toward me. “Harper—”

“You have the same scar as Trent,” I say, my voice shaking. Tears spring to my eyes. My chest heaves, and one thought echoes over the heavy bass beat of the song: I just kissed Trent.

I whirl around and run, shoving my way through the crowds, desperate to get away.

“
Hey!
” Someone yells as I elbow them hard. They glare at me with black eyes—contacts—but I just keep going. I have to get away from Daemon—Trent—whoever he is, have to find Adam. Someone I can trust.

Why did he tell me all that stuff in the car if he was Trent the whole time? Is this some kind of game to them? Am
I
some kind of game?

I don’t even know what’s true anymore, what’s an elaborate lie. I’m swimming in too many of them.

The crowd is too thick near the front doors, and Trent’s catching up with me. Where is Logan? How could Trent take his car and pick me up and not get caught?

I can’t be near him. I don’t want to talk to him, don’t want him to touch me. I make a wide arc and find the back door, my heart beating out of control. I only saw Allie two, three minutes ago. Adam’s probably still out there, parking the car.

If I can only just make it to him…

I shove my way outside, onto the covered walkway, and the upbeat song melts into the heavy hum of the pouring rain.
Lightning streaks across the sky, lighting up the lot like it’s dawn.

I see Adam’s Samurai at the far edge of the lot, near the tennis courts. I dash out into the rain, racing toward his car as the door to the gym flies open behind me.

“Harper, damn it!” Trent yells.

I run faster, my feet splashing through puddles, soaking through my shoes. The strands of my wig hang down around my face, dripping wet in an instant.

Trent’s dress shoes pound on the concrete behind me, catching up. I make it to Adam’s Samurai, yank on the handle.

But the door is locked and no one’s in the car.

My heart slams into my throat and I whirl around. “Stay away from me!” I scream.

Trent skids to a stop, puts his hands up like he’s trying to corner a wild animal.

“Harper, calm down,” he says. His eyes are dark, shadowed behind the mask, and his hair is plastered to his face.

“I will not calm down! You are not my boyfriend!”

“Yes I am,” he says, creeping forward. “Please, just calm down.”

“Stop lying. I know you’re not him.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because you have a scar,” I say, backing into the Samurai. “The same scar as Trent.”

He stops a few feet shy of me. “They’re similar. They’re not identical. I’m not him.”

“It’s in the same place,” I say, now trembling. The rain has
soaked me to the bone, and my dress hangs around me, heavy with it. I yank off the wig and drop it to the wet concrete.

“We were both seriously injured in the accident. The car rolled, Harper.”

I want to believe him, but I’m sick of trying so hard to trust him when nothing he says adds up.

“I don’t believe you. Back up,” I say. “Back up!” I yell. “I’m going back to the gym and you’re going home. I’ll get a ride with Adam and you’re going home alone and that’s going to be the end of us.” I pause and shake my head. “The end of me and Logan. I don’t even know who you are.”

“Harper—”

“Back up!” I scream, the panic rising.

He blanches, hesitates. I’m about to run, and then it’s too late.

He’s on me in a second, slamming my head into Adam’s car, and then the world goes black.

W
hen I come to, my head pounds so hard I want to vomit. My mouth tastes chalky and dry, like I spent the last twenty minutes eating cotton balls. I’m laying on something hard and cold, my cheek smashed down.

I sit up on my elbows and blink against the haze, everything coming into focus.

I’m in an empty room. The lights are off, save one in the hall with an ornate, stained glass cover that splashes a rainbow of muted light across the aged hardwood floors. I twist around. The window behind me is open, strong wind whipping through the gap.

I turn back and stare at the glass fixture for a long time, and then down at the old hardwood floors beneath my feet. Blinking, I finally realize where I am—an empty room on the second floor of Logan’s house.

Lightning flashes, and I jerk back as I see him—Trent, leaning against the wall in the corner. I stifle my scream,
and he smiles back at me, his white teeth flashing in the darkness.

My collarbone pounds, waves of pain washing over me. He put me down so I’m lying right on it, and it feels worse than the day it broke.

“So glad you could finally join me. I thought maybe I’d been too rough with your head.”

“Logan’s going to kill you for this,” I say.

His grin grows wider. “Ahh, see, I thought you really
had
figured it out. But you haven’t yet, have you?”

I swallow, nerves intensifying. What haven’t I figured out? What else is he hiding? I sit all the way up, cradling my arm. Why had I ditched the brace and sling in favor of the pretty dress? I can barely think through the blinding pain.

“Logan!” I scream, desperate. He has to be in the house. He has to help me.

What if he’s not? What if Trent did something to him?

“
Logan!
” he yells, imitating me. Then he laughs.

Fear creeps up my spine. The way he says it brings a moment of clarity. “His name’s not Logan, is it?”

He shakes his head, his lips pursed as if he’s fighting a smile, but he’s doing a poor job of masking his pleasure. He likes that I don’t have it all figured out, likes that he’s holding the strings.