Page 13 of A Reputation Dark & Deadly
Chapter 4
Peyton wasn't usedto having her own office. As a TA, she expected to share this with at least two other people. Since everyone eligible refused to TA for Logan, she was left with the office all to herself. It was down the hall from Logan's on the third floor in the Criminology A building. Despite being new and shiny on the outside, there were still things that needed to be fixed up in the Criminology A building, such as the slowness of the elevator and the white tile that resembled a hospital. Due to her lack of patience, Peyton preferred to take the stairs, but the staircase was narrow and she was out of shape so, by the time she reached her new office - bundled in the corner of the hallway - she all but collapsed in an uncomfortable black computer chair. She hoped she wouldn't get any students coming to her; she had to figure out a thesis she wanted to explore and she needed the quiet to help her think.
She pulled out her four-year-old laptop and booted it up before grabbing a pen and a notebook. The laptop wasn't for notes but for research; she liked to take notes by hand. It helped her think better and created something she liked to call a flow. Once she got into a flow, words pooled out of her like a melting ice cube. She was inspired and couldn't stop writing. It was just a matter of consistently getting in that flow that tended to make life difficult.
Her eyes glanced up at the ticking wall clock. 5:06pm. Still no students. Good. She hoped it would last.
Twenty-three minutes later, she heard the telltale squeak of shoes on the tile coming towards her office. She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing through her nostrils. She had narrowed down her topic to three - there was the prevalent race and the law or race and the prison system which had tons of research but also had been thoroughly discussed; there was law enforcement relations with the public which was a hot topic thanks to everything that was currently happening but didn't have a lot of research to really get a good amount of information for her research paper unless she put it through a lense of gender and police perception or race and police perception; or, and this was what she wanted to research but didn't know if it was the smartest topic she wanted to spend the next two years of her life with: the psychology of criminals and romance - why do good girls fall for bad boys?
She had a title for it and everything.
There was no preemptive knock. Instead, the door swung open and there stood Logan, smirking down at her from his six foot two frame.
"Yes?" Peyton asked, pushing up her brows when he closed the door behind him.
"I just wanted to fucking stop by and give you a fucking piece of advice, sweetheart," he said, coming to stand just to the side of Peyton. She craned her neck to look up at him and clenched her teeth. She hated the imbalance of power she currently felt, being underneath him. She would have stood up if he wouldn't immediately know why. Instead, she tried to shrug it off and attempt to pretend he didn't affect her the way he did.
"And that would be?" she asked, perking her brow. She leaned against the chair, trying to be nonchalant and casual, trying to ignore the butterflies flapping against her stomach.
"As a TA, you shouldn't fucking seduce your students," he told her. "I saw whatshisname with you at the CC. Looking pretty fucking chummy."
Peyton scrunched her nose. She had hoped to keep the cool, calm demeanor, but she was so shocked by the words that fell from his mouth that she couldn't help but react.
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"You and whatshisname," he repeated, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do I need to fucking tell you that he was making goo-goo eyes at you across the fucking table at you or are you too blind to see that he has a fucking thing for you?"
She closed her eyes, trying to think how to even respond. "Are you talking about Brad?" she asked. "He saw me at the CC and asked me a couple of questions relating to the assignments you gave out. I was helping him."
"Is that what you kids are fucking calling it these days?" He ran his hands down the lower half of his face, across the salt and pepper whiskers until they landed on his chin.
Peyton simmered. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, trying to keep a tight rein on her voice. The walls were thin and just because Logan Jeffrey didn't care didn't mean she didn't. "That’s rich, coming from you."
"And what's that fucking supposed to mean?" he asked with narrowed hazel eyes and a growl to his voice.
"Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?" she asked in a low voice. "You sleep with all of your of your TA's. You are the last person who should be telling me who not to seduce, who to seduce, whatever jerk thing you're telling me and wrapping it up in an advice bow."
"You're not making any fucking sense," Logan said.
"Or maybe you're just clueless," she replied. "Stop telling me what to do. Stop making assumptions. Stop thinking that I'm going to sleep with the students. The fact that you would even assume such a thing is infuriating and I don't appreciate it at all. Just because you see a man and a woman talking at a cafe does not mean there's anything sexual about it and it's sexist you would even think so."
"So in the last minute thirty, you've called me a sexist, a control freak, and someone who judges and makes assumptions rather than simply ask questions and finds out for myself," he said. "You've also accused me of sleeping with all of my TA's, seducing them. I'm a goddamn monster, aren't I?" He perked his brow and stepped closer to Peyton. She stood slowly, not as gracefully as Karla but enough to hold her own against his stare. "Mind if I give you some fucking advice, sweetheart?"
"Does it matter how I respond?" she quipped back, her tone dry.
"Actually, it fucking does," Logan said. "Because unlike your assumption of my character, I actually don't sleep with all of my TA's. I value consent; hell, I'm a goddamn Crim professor. I don't sleep with anyone who isn't willing. In fact, rape, to me, is worse than murder. I don't believe in the fucking death penalty but those fuckers can live a long fucking life in the hell that is our prison system. Fuck them. So, to have someone insinuate that I use my power to compel people to sleep with me is akin to saying I rape under duress and that fucking pisses me off because last time I checked, my sexual relationships are none of your fucking business. To put it in your words, stop convicting me of shit you don't know shit about.
"Secondly, whether it's right or not, you project a message to everyone when you sit with a student at the CC," he continued. "Now, I may sleep with my TA's but I've never fucking slept with a student and I sure as hell never socialized with them in fucking public. Didn't you fucking graduate with honors? Isn't that fucking common sense? I don't give a shit if you were talking about school or fucking football but the fact that you were fucking chatting in public over fucking coffee is a big fucking no-no. And I shouldn't have to fucking tell you that.
"Not only that, but whether you like it or not, you also fucking represent me as my TA. I don't give rat's ass that no one wanted to TA my class except for your ass, I still will hold you to my expectations and you will fucking respect them. I don't give a shit if you like me; to be honest, I could fucking care less, but when I tell you to meet with my students in your fucking office, don't fucking argue. Don't fucking defend yourself. Just take the criticism, wait until I'm finished, and then you can fucking talk. Get it?" He wrinkled his forehead.
Peyton let out a slow breath, giving herself a moment to let his words sink in. She felt her blood boil in response to his dismissive attitude and she hated that he was technically her boss, her advisor, and her professor, so no matter how she felt, she had to listen to him.
But more than all of that, she hated that he was right about everything. Just because Brad was older and they happened to see each other at the CC didn't mean it was okay for her to entertain his questions, especially since they were talking about class. It would have been easy for Peyton to write his anger at her behavior as jealousy but Logan didn't seem like the type to get jealous. Also, Peyton did not think Logan would ever be into her, even if it was just for sex. He was a certain type of man and she was a certain type of woman and their personality types did not do well together. At least, that was what she told herself. That was what she wanted. She didn't want to think about him in bed. She didn't want to think about him touching her with his big, rough hands, kissing her in her most sensitive places...
She shuddered just thinking about.
He quirked a brow at her reaction, not realizing why she did so in the first place.