Page 41 of C*cky Best Friend

Chapter Seventeen

Logan

Atext comes through as I climb into my Jeep. I don’t know why at first I think it might be Samantha. Haven’t heard from her in days. Except when I briefly talk to her at the theater. Not that I’ve been welcoming any kind of contact. It’s been fucking difficult to be as cold to her as I’ve been, but I have to protect myself. Every time I see him touching her crushes me a little bit more. I never thought I was the jaded type, but now I realize how people become that.

“Hey Ms. Galloway, got your text and thought I’d call you back.”

“Are you nearby, Logan?”

“I’m in the parking lot still.”

“Can you come back up? I have something I want to say to you.”

Frowning, I hop out and pocket my key fob. “On my way.”

I hope I don’t run into Samantha, but there’s no way they’ll be on the same elevator or even the same floor. That would be too fucked up.

I’m safe.

Subterranean parking garages, such as this one, have a distinct smell. Even with the clean-energy air of our times, there’s a staleness to it from lack of wind and the depth of how far it goes down. I clear my throat as I head for the two elevators that lead to the biggest theater in Atlanta. It needs a paint job down here. The scuffs aren’t too bad, but it doesn’t have the shine that the lobby, theater, and courtyard have.

Why am I even thinking about this stuff right now? Oh right. Anything to distract me from that fucking guy.

The elevator doors open revealing Samantha and Asher, pressed together, talking about something that evaporates as they see me. She smiles with zero awareness that when she holds his hand she holds a knife in my heart, too. “Logan, you’re still here!”

I mutter, “Galloway called me back up to the theater.” The lovebirds exchange a look that makes me ask, “What?”

Sam is bursting with news. She’s not sure if she should tell me, but she just can’t help herself. “I’m going to Broadway, Logan! She’s probably going to tell you that you’re coming too!”

I ask, “You coming?” and Asher’s smile flickers.

“Of course, I’m going. That’s why I’m down here. What makes you think I wouldn’t go?”

Samantha interjects, “Logan wasn’t meaning anything by that. It was just a question.”

Asher is clocking me. “Sure it was.” He pushes the button for the elevator, which was waiting without anyone having called it away yet. The doors swish open and he guides the girl who was supposed to be my future bride, away.

I grit my teeth.

She calls after me, “Tell me what she says!” When I don’t respond, Samantha insists, “Logan, text me!”

“I will.”

Hope I don’t get this promotion. I used to want this so badly, and part of me still does, but it’s tainted now. Is this the price I have to pay? Have I been just deluding myself this entire time by loving somebody who could never love me back? I was fine just being her friend because I was around her all the time, a constant part of her life. I was happy.

I never had to endure some other guy kissing her.

I can’t think of anything past that without having bile rise to the back of my throat. No way I can stomach the idea that they’ve had sex. She seems the same, not that it would show. Would it? I’m making myself nuts. Stop.

The theater is echo-quiet save for two technicians. One shouts to the other, “The blue gel didn’t come on after the second act,” his voice ricocheting off an empty auditorium.

“Must have burnt out.”

Burnt out. The curse of any performer after years of striving and not getting exactly where you want to be. I heard of this phenomena, but I’ve never been it. I’m at the beginning. Whatever Galloway says in there could put me on the path either up or down. Up might even be down it means I have to… Stop thinking like this. You don’t even know what she’s going to say.

Show up and shut up.

Maybe she will set you free.