Dissonance (14 page)

I had to work late Friday putting the finishing touches on another acquisition proposal. Eli had picked up Charlotte from work, which was probably for the better anyway. I didn’t mean to be an asshole to her, but I was still sour about her date with Leo. Eli, who had noticed my hostility towards Leo during a meeting that afternoon, had even decided it was necessary to text me after he got Charlotte, saying that she no intention of going out with him again.

When I got home from work, the apartment was dark. Further inspection confirmed that Charlotte was no where to be found. Anxiety cut me to the quick. Knowing that Alex was working, I sent a text to Eli asking if Charlotte was still with him. Waiting for a response was agonizing, and I could not help but wonder what the hell she was doing to me.

An hour passed. Eli had responded to my text after just a few minutes, saying he had taken her right home earlier. Ignoring the fifth call I had gotten from Kayla over the course of the week, I conceded and sent a message to Charlotte myself.

Me: Where are you?

I sipped the dregs from the beer in my hand as I tried to grapple with the fact that I couldn’t get her out of my head. It was... uncomfortable. Even though I had scarcely touched her, the very thought of her flawless, cream skin made me ache. For the thousandth time since she arrived, I reminded myself of Eli’s warning. I remembered all of the limits I had put in place with regards to her and why they were there; trying to convince myself that it was just that she was off limits that made her so enticing. That argument had long since failed. I could not fool myself anymore.

My phone vibrating violently on the table broke my silent reveries at last.

Charlotte: A bar. Join me?

She sent along another text with the location, and I stared at her messages until my phone went dark on me.

For ten minutes I listed to myself all of the reasons that I should not go out and find her.
She doesn’t need your shit.
Eli told you to keep your hands off. If you go after her, you’ll cross beyond the boundaries you set. You won’t be able to resist her much longer.
But then I remembered that she was out alone in a city she hardly knew. And she had invited me.
Join her?
How was I supposed to resist that?

Half an hour later, I was inside. The bar was a dive, packed with a crowd cheering on drunks that had volunteered to sing karaoke. Not my scene. But Charlotte was there somewhere, so I couldn’t just walk away.

Ordering a beer, I tried to scan the crowd for her. Some drunk-off-his-ass former frat boy was croaking out Journey, causing an enthusiastic response. I looked on at the scene in disgust. Alcohol can make people cheer for anything. That was when I spotted her. She was standing close to the emcee, pointing out her song choice as the final chords of “Don’t Stop Believin’” made the crowd roar.

This should be interesting.

Charlotte took the stage a little shakily, making me wonder how many drinks she’d had. She looked stunning, donning a short, black lace dress, a red blazer, and red skyscraper heels. She fidgeted with the sleeves of her blazer, which she’d rolled up to just below her elbows, as a few wolf-whistles greeted her. The visceral reaction I had to her, and to the other men ogling her, made me take a few deep breaths.

It was lucky I’d filled my lungs, because when the speakers buzzed to life and those piercing brown eyes rose up to face the crowd, I was frozen. The gentle chords of an acoustic guitar filled the rowdy bar. A hush befell the room as she began to softly croon Bob Dylan’s “Make You Feel My Love.”

It was as if my world had suddenly stopped spinning. All that existed was the ravishing, delicate girl in the spotlight and that voice.
Oh, that voice.
Her voice was so pure, lacking any harsh tones. It physically drew me closer to the source. The contrast of her innocent purity and the depth of emotion with which she sang about shadows and tears was jarring. It made me want to hold her, to guard her with my life, to keep away anything that tried to hurt her again. I couldn’t help but wish that the words she sang so magnificently could be meant for me; that this slight, beguiling beauty could want to show love to a hopeless bastard like me.

Before I could wrap my head around what I was witnessing, she was mumbling barely audible “thank you” to the audience as they screamed out their approval.
Clap, you idiot
, I had to instruct myself. As I slowly regained the ability to form coherent thoughts, I cursed Eli for not preparing me for the miraculous talent his sister had. For not making me understand that she had the voice of an angel.

When I finally managed to reach her through the mass of people, some douche bag in a leather jacket had her backed against a wall, trying to talk her up. I knew his game instinctively, and knew I could outmatch him.
Showtime, Logan.

Michael wore too tight jeans and too strong aftershave. The smell made me feel dizzy, or maybe that was the alcohol. I looked anywhere but directly at him, hoping the sleaze-ball would get the hint and back off, but either he was too drunk to notice, or else he simply did not care. I began to regret the liquor spreading through my blood stream. Sober, I would have been more equipped to rid myself of his unwanted attention.

As my eyes swept the bar in front of me again, I saw him. Logan, looking impeccable in dark jeans and a heather grey t-shirt, strode towards me with his strong jaw set in determination. He looked undeniably sexy and it sent a thrill through me that he was there for me. I tried to decipher the look in his eyes, but between the distance and the alcohol-induced fuzziness that clouded my conscious, I could not.

A moment later, he was immediately before me and still moving closer. “Hey Baby,” he said with that rueful, arrogant-bastard smile of his. He snuck his hand around my waist to the small of my back, and pulled me closer. He completely ignored Michael standing beside me.

Caught off guard, I had no response. All I had was the flush of my skin as I reacted to his body against mine. The feel of him pulling me in was so natural, as though I was made to fit against him.

Logan leaned in to me, and his lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “Shall we make this chump go away?”

“Please,” I whispered back to him. Alcohol had nothing on his intoxicating scent. Breathing him in made me feel far more light-headed than the three drinks I’d had. Okay four. Or five.

With his eyes blazing, he moved before me and wrapped both arms around my waist. My heart beat wildly, thinking he might kiss me. I am sure we looked like a young couple too infatuated to keep our hands off of each other. Logan could not have looked more convincing, and I found myself falling for his deception, as well. I just tried to keep up with him.

“How much have you had to drink?” It took me a moment to note the hint of accusation in his tone past the feel of his cheek coming into contact with mine.

I shrugged, smiling sweetly at him. Behind him, Michael began to skulk off in search of a new target.

Logan stepped back, releasing his hold on my body in exchange for my hand. It took a second to qualm the sense of devastation as his hands left my torso. He led me across the bar. I didn’t realize we were leaving until we stepped outside. I released his hand and stopped in my tracks.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, bemused.

“Why are we leaving?”

“Because, you’ve had enough. We should go home.”

“I’m not that drunk,” I tried to enunciate and appear as in control of my facilities as possible, “and I don’t want to go home, yet.”

“
That drunk
? Is being drunk the goal of this exercise?” When I did not respond, he continued, “Why do you want to get drunk alone?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to let off some steam. I… I just want you to go home. I don’t want to be around you right now.”

“Did I miss something? You invited me. Why don’t you want me around?”

His complete ignorance infuriated me. “Are you serious?” Nothing, no response. “Because… when you’re around I… I can’t…”
Deep breath
. “Just… go home Logan.”

“Charlotte,” he looked at me with a sort of sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry, but don’t argue with me about this. I’m taking you home.” There was a controlled quality to his voice that somehow made me snap. I was tired of all his damn control.

“Dammit Logan! I’m 24 years old! If I want to get drunk at a bar on a Friday night, I will! You are not my father, or my brother, or even my boyfriend. You are my roommate. You don’t get a say in what I do!”

He was taken aback by my response, but recovered himself quickly to steal the upper hand. “Would you like to call your brother? See what he thinks?”

“Leave Eli out of it!” I yelled, but it was too late. His phone was already out. Eli’s picture appeared on the screen as Logan put the call through. I imagined Eli’s reaction to me being out drinking alone, having admitted by omission that I intended to get drunk. “Okay! I’ll come home! Just hang up the damn phone!”

The bastard had the gall to cock a smile at me as he hung up. He exuded arrogance and it made me want to cut him down to size, but he also looked so gorgeous that I would have settled for running my tongue along his jaw.

“Afraid of big brother finding out what you’re up to, Charlotte?”

“I think you know damn well why I don’t want Eli to know about this,” I snapped. Eli would be a nightmare.

Logan looked genuinely confused. Perhaps Eli did not regale him with details of why I moved to Seattle. It was certainly not a story I wanted to tell.

“Let’s go,” I said before Logan could question me. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wanted to get to the bottom of it, but for the moment, he resigned.

He began to fumble with his phone again, answering my bemused expression by mouthing the word “cab” at me.

“What about your car?” I asked when he hung up.

“You aren’t the only one who has been drinking.”

“You’re drunk?!” I half-shouted in indignation.

“No, but I’m not going to drive, either. Particularly with you in the car,” he stated matter-of-factly.

I tried not to think about how it was endearing that he cared about my safety, too. Instead, I chose to study Logan’s profile while he watched for our cab. He didn’t look at me, but he must have been aware of the fact that I was staring.

We rode back to the apartment in silence. When we arrived, I immediately enclosed myself in my room. I didn’t want to be around Logan, and his goddamned sexuality, and the goddamned butterflies that went in crazy in my stomach when he was close.

I turned on my iPod and tied to focus on anything but the infuriating man in the other room. It was an unsuccessful venture.

Who did he think he was, sweeping in to save me from some misperceived danger? My thoughts strayed back to the sleaze-ball at the bar. I could have handled him. Right? I was not damsel in distress that needed saving by the courtly knight. Was I?

Courtly knight.
The thought made me laugh. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I wondered if Sir Lancelot was out there talking to one of his girls. Logan was no representation of chivalry.

He did come to get you.
It may have been an ill-perceived danger, but he came when he thought I needed him. Why? I rationalized that he was trying to be a good friend – both to me and to Eli – by looking out for me. Still, in the back of my mind I held on to hope that it was more than friendship that drew him into the bar.