Page 3 of A Reputation Dark & Deadly

But something in her refused to budge.

"There's no way these boys would risk their scholarships," Peyton pushed, raising her brow up. She knew her face was red but she couldn't stop herself from arguing her point. Even now, as his hazel eyes trimmed her features, the same arrogantly amused smile staining his face, she couldn't find it in her to press her lips together and shut her mouth. "They've worked their entire life to play basketball for a university, to even go to college in the first place, that there's absolutely no way a girl is going to come between them and their goals."

Logan Jeffrey was silent but he continued to stare at her, his eyes curving over her cheeks, across her lips, down to the tip of her chin, before sliding back up to her eyes. He quirked a brow before asking, "How old are you?"

Peyton blinked in surprise. That was a question she wasn't expecting from him in this context. In fact, she wasn't expecting a personal question from him at all. Immediately, her defenses were on high alert and she couldn't help but hesitate. He tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing slightly enough to relay the message that now was not the appropriate time to withhold any information.

She clenched her teeth together. "Twenty-four," she replied finally. She didn't hide the fact that she wasn't too happy about revealing that bit of information either. "Why?"

He grinned at the fact that she questioned him. "You're young," he said. "You probably, what, took a few years off between college and grad school to find yourself. Now, if I had to guess, I would say you spent Daddy's money traveling. Not alone, you'd never fucking leave the country alone, but with a girlfriend, maybe a boyfriend..." He perked his brow up, leaving the rest of his question silent.

Why was he asking her these things? More than that, how could he tell just by looking at her? Sure, her age gave her away a little bit but how could he know she spent that time traveling?

"What are you getting at?" she asked.

"What I'm getting at, sweetheart, is you're fucking young and naive," he said. "Let me see a show of hands for the guys - and don't fucking bullshit me, either. I know a lot of you are a bunch of nerds but let's talk pussy for a second. I'll set the scene: you're in high school, this is your senior year, you're in your prime, guys, and your hormones are fucking raging. You go to a party at the end of the year before Christmas break with all your classmates. There are some pretty girls and the thing about pretty girls is they're either complete trash and sloppy or they stay classy, they don't drink, they're only here because their uglier friend dragged them to the party. That, or they came for a fucking boy. Not to get paid but because they think a party is a perfectly acceptable place to meet your future ex-boyfriend. If I had to guess, sweetheart, you're the type to never even go to parties unless forced by a friend."

"And what does this have anything to do with me?" Peyton asked, feeling uncomfortable with the way he spoke about her. She ignored the fact that he called her pretty indirectly.

"Everything, sweetheart," he replied with mild exasperation.

"Pussy is pussy. Right, guys?" His eyes left Peyton's to return to the class and he pushed his brow up, wrinkling his forehead. "Is your scholarship on your fucking mind when you have pussy right in front of you? Do you consider your fucking future when you know you're going to get laid?" He paused and looked around. "Fuck no, you don't. You don't let consequences talk you out of getting laid. And you wouldn't know that, sweetheart, because you're a chick. You think with your head, guys think with their dicks. It's the way the world works."

Peyton hated herself for blushing at his words. His seemed to notice too, causing his hazel eyes to sparkle with unabashed amusement, making it even worse.

"Carter is a chick," she pointed out, raising a questionable brow.

"So?" Logan asked.

"So," Peyton said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. His brow perked at the detection of attitude in her tone but he seemed to approve of it, which was weird but not something Peyton planned to look too much into. "You said chicks wouldn't get it because they think with their heads. Carter is a chick, she still propositioned Cornell and Luke for sex."

"Carter isn't like you, sweetheart," Logan pointed out. "Carter is like most girls. She went through her whole goddamn life with an average everything. It made her invisible for the most part. Invisible girls are usually the crazy ones, which also makes them better in bed, because they actually have to work to get that attention. Once they fucking have it, they're going to be unforgettable."

"Except Carter wasn't unforgettable in the sense that she was good in bed," Peyton pointed out. "She's unforgettable in that she accused these boys of gang raping her in the guest bedroom of a student's house."

"Let me ask you a question," Logan said, shifting his weight so his right hip jutted out. His focus was solely on Peyton. "Do you agree that sex took place between all three in question, and what I mean by that is, do you agree that each boy took his turn at fucking Carter?"

Peyton took a moment to process his question before slowly nodding her head once.

"Okay," he said, turning on the heel of his foot as he started to stroll up and down the front if the class room like he was taking a walk in the park. "So the sex definitely took place. What we need to establish is whether or not the sex was consensual. The fact that they were drinking could work in her favor."

"But why?" Peyton asked, interrupting him.

"Why, what?" He stopped mid-step and turned to face Peyton once more.

"They were all drinking, right?" Peyton asked. "Why does the burden fall on the drunk men to restrain the drunk women? Why isn't there an equal amount of responsibility placed on everyone's shoulders? Multiple witnesses say she was the one propositioning them. Blood alcohol content shows she was less drunk than they were. If anything, she took advantage of them."

"Are you saying she raped both boys?" Logan asked. He wasn't incredulous with his tone nor did he make her feel stupid but the question was firm and inquisitive. He wanted to see where she went with this.

"I wouldn't go that far," Peyton said. "You said it yourself. Pussy is pussy. If you have a girl at a party in your face basically telling you and your friends that she'll fuck you right here right now added to the fact that you and your friend are both ridiculously drunk, how are you going to say no?"

"Are you asking me or are you asking a general question, sweetheart?" Logan asked, that arrogant smile back on his face.

"I'm saying, using your logic that pussy is pussy, amplified by the fact that everyone had been drinking, plus witnesses said she was all over them for the entire party, it's hard for me to automatically believe that she was raped the next morning," Peyton said. "How can she remember that she said no when she doesn't even remember what happened?"

"She clearly remembers what fucking happened," Logan pointed out, pushing his brows up and pressing his lips together. "I'm sure you read her account twenty pages from now."

"But in her statement, she doesn't remember anything," Peyton said. "And that just highlights my point. No one saw these two brothers force Carter into the room with them. In fact, they say that she was laughing and smiling and that she chose to go with him of her free will. She wanted it. She wanted them. She wanted the attention."