Page 2 of A Reputation Dark & Deadly

"There will be no homework," Logan continued. "I don't have time to fucking babysit you. Just do the fucking readings each week and when I use the beauty that is the Socratic Method to call on you, answer the question right. You will have a midterm. You will have a final. Both will be multiple choice because I don't have time to read every goddamn paper and opinion. There will be short answers. Be concise. The less fucking words you can use while getting the answer correctly gets you more fucking points. Don't fucking bullshit me, got it?"

No one responded. Peyton had to guess people were afraid to get called out. She couldn't blame them.

"Now, guess I'm your fucking advisor on top of all the other bullshit we have to do together," Logan continued. "Prepare to be fucking wrecked, let me tell you that much. You come to me with a boring ass research topic and I will send you away until you find a fucking good one, you understand? Don't waste your time and don't fucking waste my time.

"Now," he finished, stepping right back in the middle of the pathway. "Do we have any questions?"

Nobody said anything. Nobody even shook their head. She watched as his smile broadened and he licked his upper lip, keeping his eyes focused on everyone.

"Good," he said. "So we had some reading over the summer, didn't we? Let's jump right in, shall we? Now" - he crossed his arms over his chest, causing his leather jacket to crinkle - "who's going to step up to the plate? Who's our first victim? Let's see." He began to stare at each individual student. Most looked away. Some squirmed under his gaze.

When he reached Peyton, she felt her breath leave her. She was instantly fixated on his face, on his eyes, a beautiful golden hazel color, and she couldn't look away. She was like a deer caught in headlights because she knew danger was coming towards her but she had an inability to avoid it. He smiled as he looked at her, his eyes developing laugh lines and his dimples even more prominent. It wasn't a nice smile, though. It was more a smile that said a hunter just found his prey and he was about to go in for the kill. Perhaps she should have looked away. Perhaps she should have squirmed. Maybe then he would have passed over her like everyone else in class. But she didn't. She held his gaze, not to fight for dominance but just to prove that she didn't cower easily.

"What about you, sweetheart?" he said, nodding at her once. Like he just accepted a challenge she didn't even know she had issued. "Why don't you give the class a refresher, for all the assholes sighing in relief? Remind them what they were supposed to do."

Peyton swallowed. She had done the reading. She had even reviewed it just now.

"Michelle Carter, white teenage girl" -

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he began, interrupting her by dropping an arm and flexing his fingers. "Hold up. White female? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with it," Peyton said, more defensive than she initially planned. Logan's brows shot up so they nearly touched his thick hairline.

"Really?" he asked. "Do tell."

"Considering that she accused three black teenage boys, all seniors with scholarships, of raping her at a party, it's important to point out that race could definitely cloud the issue," Peyton said.

"In what way?" Logan asked.

"This is rural Alabama," Peyton said. "Racism is still prevalent there."

"Racism is present everywhere, sweetheart," Logan pointed out. "You probably don't realize it because racism doesn't apply to you." His grin turned cheeky. "Carry on."

"High school student," Peyton went on. She hoped her voice wasn't actually as shaky as it sounded. She didn't want him to think he was getting to her even though he was. "She wasn't very popular but she wasn't hated, either. She was average in everything - looks, school work, personality. There was a Christmas party one night, the last day of school before break. Someone's parents were out on vacation, leaving their kid by themselves. Carter crashed the party with some of her friends."

"Let me interject here, sweetheart," Logan said, pushing his palm up. "You talk too damn much. Has your boyfriend ever told you that?"

Peyton knew he was waiting for some kind of response. She wasn't sure if he was waiting for a denial or a correction that she even had a boyfriend in the first place. Either way, she pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes into his, meeting his amazed gaze with a glare of her own. She refused to respond to him, going so far as to clench her teeth together to keep herself from saying something to fill the silence. He seemed amused by her response, at least judging by the twinkle in his hazel eyes and the defined dimples in his cheeks.

"Stick to the pertinent details," he continued when he realized she wasn't going to respond to him. "What happened and why. Fuck the foreplay. Get to the good part. Leave me satisfied. Leave me wanting more."

Peyton wished her face didn't react without her permission. She wished she could reach out and slap that smug grin off of his perfectly chiseled face. Instead, she pressed her lips so tightly together, her teeth caught on one of them and she was sure she would have a small sore that would bother her every time she ate something salty for the next week.

"Are you fucking blushing?" Logan continued, his eyes dropping to her cheeks. "I really like you now. What's your name?"

She wanted to spit in his face. She wanted to snarl at him. She wanted to remind him that he didn't learn names for another two weeks. Instead, she swallowed the rock currently lodged in her throat and said, "Peyton Hart."

"Peyton," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. All traces of amusement vanished from his face as he got to down to business. "Do you think these boys raped the victim?"

"I don't," she said.

"Their semen was in her vagina," he pointed out.

"So?" Peyton said. His eyes shot up at her tone and question and her blush got even darker. "How do you know she didn't consent to having sex with them?"

"So, let me get this straight," Logan said as he began to pace, releasing his arms so he could gesture as he spoke. "You think that this poor fucking pathetic girl was so desperate for attention, she accused these three popular basketball players, all with scholarships to universities to start for their respective teams, of gang raping her in a guest bedroom at some hick mansion in the middle of nowhere?"

His tone was condescending, his face contorted into a look of disbelief. If she had any sense at all, she would say no. She would say she was wrong and it sounded ludicrous and the fact that she even suggested something so ridiculous was her fault and could she please sit down now?