Page 26 of C*cky Best Friend

Chapter Twelve

Samantha

Backstage is an absolute zoo.

Everyone is flying on the rush of adrenaline.

From their enthusiastic congratulations nobody expected me to pull it together that fast.

I’m grinning as I reach for my dressing room door and spot Logan heading for the exit, far down the hall. “Logan!”

He didn’t hear me.

I push through people to get to him, saying his name again at the top of my lungs.

He still doesn’t turn around.

Like a man on a mission, he bursts out the side door. What’s on his mind? What has him that distracted that he can’t even hear me shouting for him to stop.

The door shuts in my face.

I push it open, and explode into the alley to find Logan surrounded by people clamoring for his autograph. As they spot me, they hold up their papers, hoping to capture even more posterity.

Why isn’t he excited about this? Why isn’t he grateful? There’s a frown pressing between his eyebrows as he throws a wary look to me.

Graciously autographing as many notes as will have me, I’m standing by his side and thinking to myself how often we talked about this. I keep throwing glances to him, his reaction curious to me.

He’s in his own world.

I spotted his parents in the audience, but his big sister wasn’t here. Maybe that’s on his mind. They don’t get along. She’s very judgmental, so he often doesn’t invite her anymore. Rather than point out what he does well, she’ll make note of mistakes perceived often only by her. High standards are one thing, criticism designed to tear someone down, another. Even if the motives are clean.

“The program said Marion—”

Another stranger, a bespeckled man cuts her off, “Yes, there was a slip saying you’d be taking over the role of Izzy.”

Logan explains for me, “She broke her leg during dress rehearsal.”

The woman gasps, “Oh no. Is she okay?”

“She was pretty devastated. We all were.”

A man in the back of the crowd snorts, “I bet you weren’t,” his cynical eyes on me.

Stunned, I open my mouth but Logan beats me to it.

“If you’re insinuating that Samantha wanted Marion hurt, then you don’t know Samantha.” He pushes a pen and paper into a fan’s hands, puts his arm around me and guides me back to the door we came out of. Under his breath, he asks, “You okay?”

I wait until were inside, the door securely shut, to look up at him. “Why are you so upset? Is that why? Did somebody say that to you already?”

Logan’s normally clear blue eyes are haunted. I’ve never seen him snap at someone like that before. He’s a dancer, an artist, so of course he has his moods. But this look is something I have never witnessed. I really want to get to the bottom of it. See if I can help.

He wants to say something, but decides against it as his eyelashes drop toward the ground. “I’m just protective of you. What that guy said was rude. Really fucking insulting. It doesn’t just put down your abilities, it insinuated you’re a bad human being. He doesn’t know shit.” Logan rakes his hair back and frowns at me. “I wanted to punch him.”

Touching his chest to calm him down I say in earnest, “It doesn’t matter what people think! I’m not worried about that. I know who I am. Let them say what they want! I’d never want her hurt. That’s just ridiculous. But what’s wrong with you?”

Logan shakes his head, the haunted look still there. “How’s she doing?”

Folding my arms I remember our brief phone call. Logan knows I have her number. It doesn’t surprise me that he assumes I checked up before coming here. “She’s depressed. I asked her how it happened. Did you see it?”