Blues

28. Pools Of Blue

Dylan's eyes have never been so shrewd, never so perceptibly furious, and if looks could kill, Logan would be a mound of smoldering ashes on the floor. Dylan's gaze alters, fleeting between me and Logan with an almost hurt look.

He has a tendency to make me feel like shit, let him taste some of his own medicine.

The feeling of betrayal I see in his gaze is absurd, yet he dares to flaunt it, only to make me feel guilty. If there's something that I have plenty of, it's guilt, and I refuse to have any for him. I tilt my head to the side, waiting for him to voice why he's honoring me with a visit after the malignant words he spouted at me last night, but he doesn't offer me any answer, wrapping his big hand around my wrist, and that mere touch makes my muscles go limp, allowing him to push the door open and walk into my apartment.

"Well, make yourself at home." I grunt sarcastically at his back, slamming the door shut.

Logan leans back against the back of the couch, wearing a cocky look, as if this place is nothing but a part of his property, which nettles me a bit, and by the cold look on Dylan's face, I'm assured that he shares my thoughts. "Hello to you, too, bro." Logan smiles, his white teeth flashing with obscure despite, his gray eyes cryptic.

Dylan shoves his hands into his jean pockets, angling his head to the side as he gives Logan the least friendly look anyone could manage. I don't know how someone could manage to look sedate and ballistic at the same time, but Dylan does it very well. "What are you doing here?" He tries again, his voice hardening.

Logan, however, doesn't look intimidated at all, assessing Dylan's countenance nonchalantly. "Worried about something, bro?"

Dylan chuckles darkly. "Whatever you're planning, it's not going to happen."

"Oh don't worry." Logan shakes his head. "I'm not here to get into her pants. I only came here to unveil some tiny teeny secrets, maybe then she will see beyond your perfect façade."

The thing is, I see how marred he is, and for some reason, the clearer I see how toxic he is for me, the harder I feel that ambiguous tug alluring me to him.

Dylan takes a seat, opposed to Logan, lounging back. His foxy eyes gaze at Logan with a look that is meant to be demonstrated in a murky nightmare, his posture relaxed and completely unaffected by Logan's threat. "Let's play a lovely game then. You voice one of my secrets, and I voice one of yours. Bet it'd be fun."

"Okay, guys." I raise both of my hands. "That was artistic, but I bet it'd be cooler if you move that little dispute of yours somewhere else."

Logan lets out a dry laugh, giving Dylan his complete attention, and I get the impression that this firestorm is not going to end soon. "Believe it or not, I have nothing to lose. You, on the other hand, do." He shrugs. "However, I gave her a teaser, and she can hunt for the rest, that is, if she's interested that much in you." He stands, strutting to where Dylan is seated. "And I doubt if that interest will remain for long after she knows everything about you." With that, he starts to walk past him.

"I thought we were even." Dylan vents, his eyes distant.

"Nope." Logan halts, looking back at Dylan with a militant gaze. "You fucked up a serious relationship, I fucked up a fling. We will never be even."

What?

"What does that mean?" I ask, my befogged gaze cantering between them.

"Uh-oh. Haven't you told her?" Logan shakes his head, brazen-faced. "He–my friend-" he beckons to Dylan. "–fucked my girlfriend, and I got back at him by fucking Linda, the hophead he used to hang out with."