Page 26 of A Reputation Dark & Deadly

Chapter 7

To be honest, Peyton had no idea what she was going to do when she saw Logan back in class on Monday. In fact, after she finally left his place and headed back to her dorm room, she decided to take the long way around Ring Road in order to feel the cool breeze on her face and hoped a walk would help clear her thoughts. She didn't think about the fact that Logan had programmed his number into her flip phone and told her to text him to let him know that she had made it back to her dorm room safely. Thinking about that would add a side to Logan she really didn't want to think about, a side that softened him, a side that wasn't as monstrous as she made him out to be.

Don't be a fool, Peyton, a voice pointed out as she walked through Greene Park that encompassed Ring Road. There were plenty of trees and greenery where students could study in peace and quiet. The ocean wasn't that far off either so on particularly quiet days, the waves could be heard crashing into the shore. The fact that he decided to take care of you over the weekend was enough to show that he's not a monster.

She shook her head to herself, the thrum of her headache nearly gone by now. She wore her summer dress that didn't seem as damning as a club dress would have been, and though her hair was particularly messy as its waves got tangled with each other, she let her hair stay down. It felt good to feel the wind through her hair, tousling them even more. It felt nice to be outside after what happened Friday night and all of Saturday.

If she was being honest, she couldn't quite believe that she had stayed with him for as long as she had. She couldn't quite believe they had played chess and that she had actually beat him. Her chess skill was, in large part, due to her grandfather playing with her each time they saw each other. She might not have been a star athlete in high school but she was one of the best chess players she knew and had the medals to prove it.

In fact, Peyton thought Logan couldn't quite believe he had lost to her. The look on his face still amused her to no end and she laughed, picturing it now. His lips pressed into each other, causing his chin to flatten underneath his salt and pepper whiskers. His brow furrowed so low they nearly overruled his hazel eyes, which had gone dark with disbelief. Even his dimples pressed into his cheeks as he had looked at the board, completely floored that she had bested him and that he had to take her to Old Newport Jail.

When choosing her outfit for the next day, she grabbed a miniskirt and a knit sweater. It was cool outside but the sun was still out. Fall was finally starting to show, thanks to the burnt orange leaves falling from the trees that made up Ring Road. In fact, the only green that could be seen were in patches. She decided on flip flops for her feet since they were comfortable and matched her outfit even though her feet would be a little chilly. Besides putting a floral headband in her hair, there was nothing else she did to the long tresses.

She clung her books to her chest as she walked to the classroom. Though it was cold, there was no breeze, something she was grateful for. The skirt was pleated and heavy but that didn't mean even the gentlest of breezes could lift the skirt up into the wind and that was the last thing she needed right now.

Peyton managed to make it a minute before class started. Logan didn't even look up when she walked in and she felt herself get huffy about it. She clenched her teeth together and refused to look too much into it. Who cared if Logan hadn't looked at her? Why should he look at her? Just because she was in a miniskirt and showed off those same legs he had recently complimented meant nothing because she wasn't dressing for him. She was dressing for herself.

Keep telling yourself that, a voice chastised but Peyton ignored it. Instead, she decided to quickly go over her notes, expecting to be called on today.

Except he didn't call on her. While lecturing, he didn't even look at her. Not once.

She started getting frustrated and then she started getting frustrated because she was frustrated in the first place. This was too much. So she forced these odd feelings down and focused on his lesson. Maybe he would talk to her in her undergrad class.

But he didn't. Logan barely spared her a glance at all today. By the end of her office hours, she was starting to get frustrated once more and at that point, she couldn't stop herself from going down the hall to his office. She had no idea what she was going to say to him but she had to say something.

Without knocking, Peyton threw the door open, ready to stomp up to him and demand an answer to a question she didn't even know how to formulate. There was Logan, leaning in his leather chair, his feet kicked on his desk, reading a biography on the Depression-era gangsters. He had glasses on his face, softening his intimidating look of black leather and slicked back hair.

He looked beautiful.

It was the first thought that entered her head and suddenly all of her anger and frustration dissipated from her. She felt like a fool. She was acting like an immature child who wasn't getting enough attention and it embarrassed her that she was playing this stupid game to validate her value and beauty and she suddenly wanted to go home and forget this ever happened. Because looking at him now was like a slap to her face. She realized that she was in this stupid skirt because he liked her legs and she wanted to get his attention and she hated that she had resorted to such passive tactics.

Logan put the book down in his lap before grabbing his thick-rimmed black glasses and slowly pulling them off if his face so he could look at Peyton with mild amusement mixed with slight curiosity.

"You have something you want to say, sweetheart?" he asked, quirking a brow and, after setting his glasses on the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I." She pressed her lips together, ignoring the cocked smile on his face, putting his dimples on full display. He was a loaded gun and she was in his line of sight, a chicken with its head cut off, just waiting to be taken down. Finally, she locked eyes with him and shook her head. "No."

"No." He gave her a sharp look of disbelief. "You came busting in here like you fucking did. What, you suddenly change your fucking mind?"

"I have nothing to say," she told him. "Sorry to bother you."

She turned to leave but Logan's voice made her pause.

"Wait."

He stood up slowly and Peyton's eyes were drawn to his denim-clad legs. She knew he was six foot two but she hadn't realized just how long his legs were.

Slowly, so agonizingly slow, he walked toward her so he was in her personal space, so the material of his clothes caressed the material of hers but their bodies weren't touching, not yet. No, not yet. Peyton did not move. Something inside of her forced her to stay put even though she wanted nothing more than to turn and run. She kept her gaze steady and by the time he reached her, she had to crane her head back to keep his stare.

Without warning, he held up a stack of blue books Peyton hadn't even noticed were in his hands.

"These need to be graded," he told her, his lips curled into a smile.

Peyton narrowed her eyes at the books but didn't touch them. "What the hell are those?" she asked, trying to keep her temper in check and failing miserably.

"Well, uh, let's think about this for one fucking second," Logan began, his tawny gaze shifting from her to look at the stack of books in his hand. "They look like fucking books and they're blue. I didn't think it took a fucking scientist to figure this shit out."

"It's literally the second week of class," Peyton said. "I've sat through your lectures to your 101 class and you haven't assigned them any kind of exam that requires grading yet. So, my original question stands. What the hell are those?"