Page 71 of Half Truths (Secret Society 1)
“There. Good as new.” I smiled brightly at the job I’d done on his hand, until I met his gaze again and saw the seriousness in his eyes. I lowered his hand quickly and held on to the bloody towel and discarded wrappers from the other things. “So, can I go now?”
“You have somewhere to be?” His voice was hoarse. I chalked it up to the cool air in the room.
“A party.”
“Toga party?”
“Yeah. Are you going?”
“Maybe. I have some things to do before then though.”
“I need to change out of this.” I tugged on my cloak.
“Let’s have a drink and then you change and go.”
“You told me not to drink.”
“That was before this. I didn’t want you bleeding excessively.”
“Oh.” I licked my lips. “I guess a drink wouldn’t be a bad idea. Maybe it’ll help with the throbbing in my hand.”
He took the things in my hand, dumped it in a silver thing, and turned to me, waiting.
“You’re going to leave that there?”
“They’ll burn it.”
We walked out of there and headed back in the direction I’d come from. Instead of going up the second flight of stairs, Logan walked around the staircase and opened a door that was beneath it. He held it open as I gaped.
“There’s a bar here?”
“The best one, because it’s quiet.”
I stepped inside. It looked like a downtown Manhattan bar but minimized for ants. It was that small. Yet, I could see how three people could fit here comfortably. It was as wide as the large staircase and tall. Tall enough for Logan to fit standing upright. He pointed up at the ceiling, which swirled like a staircase. Not the staircase it was beneath though, since that one just went straight up.
“I told you the original owner was a nutcase.”
“She must have been a huge Escher fangirl,” I said.
“Or a nutcase,” Logan said as he walked to the other side of the bar where the bottles were. I took a seat on the barstool across from him, yanking the cloak so it wouldn’t get caught in my sandal.
“This cloak really does nothing for me.”
“Really? Is it the bagginess? Is it the black? You wear black normally, so it can’t be that.” His eyes were dancing as he checked things off.
“You pay attention to me that much?”
“Hey, I knew your size, didn’t I?”
“Yes, and that’s creepy and weird. How did you know my size?”
“Guesstimated.” He shrugged a shoulder as he lifted a bottle of Jameson from the shelf behind him and showed it to me. “This okay?”
“Anything you give me right now is okay. My hand hurts like a bitch. I need a distraction.”
He placed two glasses between us, reached down, opened something that crunched and brought up a plastic cup with ice, and poured our drinks.
“You know, there are other ways to distract from pain.” He slid a glass my way.
“Let me guess.” I lifted it to my lips and took a sip, licking my lips as I lowered it. “You mean sex.”
“Not everything is about sex, Amelia, but I’m down for that too.” He lifted his glass. I lifted mine and tapped it against his. “Cheers. To being in this weird, yet loyal family.”
“Cheers.” I took another sip, relishing the burn as it went down my throat. “Here’s to hoping this family isn’t as dysfunctional as the one we have now.”
He lifted his glass and drank.
“What about your mom? Does she suck?”
“No, I love my mom. She moved away to Colorado when I was twelve. Ran away with her co-worker. I didn’t understand it then, but I sure as hell did later. My father was a bastard. An abusive, cheating, alcoholic bastard. He’s gotten better, but he’s still not someone I’d want my mom with. My brother is a bastard. I’m . . . well . . . I am what I am.” He took a gulp of the whiskey, hissing as his throat worked to swallow it.
“You are who you want to be.”
“You believe that?”
“Sometimes.” I shrugged. “Other times I think I’m just the spoiled little rich girl everyone thinks I am. Living in my glass castle, you know.”
He set his elbows on the bar, leaned in closer to me, and whispered, “I won’t cast stones at you.”
“I appreciate that,” I whispered back, licking my lips again.
“You’re beautiful, even in this shitty cloak,” he said, his eyes scanning mine. “Even with no makeup and messy hair, you’re beautiful.”
“Stop.” I pulled away, sitting straight on my stool, taking my glass with me. “I don’t want to be the girl you seduce in a tiny bar, underneath the stairwell.”
“That’s fair.” He sipped his drink.
We finished our drinks and walked back to our rooms, idling outside my door. I thought he was going to hit on me again, invite me in, kiss me, anything. He didn’t. He just watched me with those wanton green eyes that seemed to darken to black the longer he stared, and I just watched him.
