I never do manage to knock him down in a match.
I'm bleary-eyed and half blind from the sweat, my lungs burning for air. I'm laying hit after hit into the sparring bag when the knock on my front door jolts me into the present. I stop, only then feeling the absolute agony my muscles are in as I turn and wipe sweat from my eyes and peer at the door. The knock comes again, and I start to grin, knowing there's really only one possible person who'd be knocking here at this hour.
And I think I even know why.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Quinn spits at me, before shoving me aside and storming past me into my apartment.
"Oh, please won't you come inside, Quinn?" I grumble, tearing my boxing gloves off and watching her as she starts digging through my kitchen draws. I'm still partially curious, that is until she shoots me another furious look before she storms over and starts digging around underneath my mattress.
Oh, now I know what she's looking for.
"Where is it!" She snaps, seeing the grin on my face as I grab a towel off the hook by the door and wipe the sweat from my face.
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, Qui-"
"You kept my vibrator, you asshole!"
I can't help it then, and my grin just breaks into a full-on laugh. I mean honestly, how many times in life do you actually get a chance to hear someone say that to you?
"Oh, you noticed that, huh?"
It's been three days since I was at her place, and the temptation to pocket that little toy of hers I found in the bathroom was just too good to pass up, even if only just to mess with her.
Quinn's face is bright red as she fumes at my grin. "What?! No! Not funny, not cute, Logan!"
"So you did notice it was gone then?"
"Wh-" She stammers. "Yes, Logan, I noticed it was gone and that you stole it."
I nod, trying but failing to keep my face neutral. "So I guess that means you were actively looking for it, for - oh, some reason, when you noticed it was-"
"Oh shut up."
Ok, so even though it's a lot of fun to mess with Quinn and get under her skin like this - not to mention how easy it is - there is part of me that wonders why the fuck I'm still doing it. I mean she's great, really. Actually she's amazing, if I can get my head out of my own ass enough to just admit that. And it's thoughts like those that have me wondering why I'm still just being such a massive dick to her. She might actually just like me, if I wasn't trying so hard to sabotage the whole thing. And for what? Why, so she doesn't get close? Because she's "off limits"? No, fuck that. Hudson broke those rules first and that seems to be working out dandy for just about everyone involved.
"Logan!"
"Oh fine."
"Where-"
I nod towards the kitchen. "Refrigerator, salad crisper."
Quinn wrinkles her brow at me. "Eew?"
"Just wanted to keep it fresh for you!" I call out as she stomps towards the kitchen. "Oh hey, there's also a cucumber or two in there too if you're feeling extra frisky tonight, darlin."
She makes a face as she turns back from the fridge, shoving the toy into her jeans pocket. "Why are you always so gross?"
The question actually catches me off guard, because honestly, I don't know. And this brings me back to the whole "why the fuck am I acting like this" thing from before. It's like just being around this girl has me acting like some sort of juvenile asshole full of crude comments and pulling dumb shit like the vibrator in the refrigerator thing. It's barely a single level above pulling her hair on the playground or calling her names on the school-bus. I'm even betting that if I just got my shit together and started talking to her like a normal fucking person, we might even be able to get along.
Except there's something about Quinn Archer that makes it impossible for me to act anything remotely close to normal.
And the real question here is, why can't I act normal around her? If that one night from before was just this one time thing, and we as adults can both agree that it was a mistake and just move on from it, then why the fuck can't I do just that?
Quinn slams the fridge shut and marches towards me and the door, but I stick my arm out across the doorframe, blocking her.
"Jesus, Logan-" She cocks her head at me. "Does this shit ever work for you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean this whole ‘asshole with a chip on his shoulder' acting like a child stunt. Does this actually get you laid?"
I grin widely at her before I blow her an air kiss. "Apparently?"
Her face goes bright red again, and her mouth does that little adorable thing it does when she purses it shut extra tight, as if trying to keep in whatever she's tempted to say. "That was-" She trails off and looks down at the floor.
"Fantastic? Life-altering? The best lay you've ever had?" I smirk at her, seeing her cheeks get even redder as she shakes her head.
And here I go, right back into the swing of being that sophomoric douche with the crude comments and the incessant need to pull this girl's hair at recess, as if it's the only way I can get her to keep paying attention to me.
"A mistake." She says sharply, abruptly ending my thoughts as I snap my eyes to hers. She raises her head and looks me right in the eye. "Obviously, a big mistake."
I frown, but when she pushes my arm away, I don't stop her, and when she storms down the hall to the stairway, I don't follow her either.
Chapter Twelve
Quinn
It's already after two o'clock in the afternoon by the time I realize I haven't actually left my office since stepping into it. My stomach is the one that not-so-subtly reminds me that lunch was about two hours ago, and that I've been fueling myself purely with coffee since breakfast.
It's also not like I've been hard at work either, quite the contrary actually. I'm distracted, and I've pretty much been spending my time all morning alternating between staring at the wall and staring out the window, with a few rounds of mahjong on my phone thrown in to mix things up. And what is it that has me so totally out of sync with the work I'd normally be throwing myself into?
Yeah, take one guess.
I'm still pissed about the previous night, not to mention every instance before that in which Logan feels such a need to be such a smug, cocky, dick. Okay scratch that. I'm pissed that he keeps alternating between being a smug cocky dick half the time and a hot, unfairly irresistible dick the other half.
Part of me was insanely proud of myself for actually leaving his place the night before, especially in the manner I did. Leaving him standing there and speechless. Logan Dempsey isn't usually a guy without words, so getting that reaction was at least a bit of a win. But, it's an empty one really. By the time I got back down to my place after storming off like that, I was already feeling sullen and more annoyed rather than triumphant by the whole encounter.
And of course, annoyingly turned on, after being in such close proximity to a shirtless, sweaty, tattooed and volatile Logan.
When I'd sat in my bed later after a shower, there was a dark sort of allure to thinking about what might have happened upstairs if I'd only let my guard down. One move. That's all it would've taken for me to probably still be up there right now, reliving that night we had before with Logan's perfect cock and incredible tongue pushing me higher and higher, until-
I'd bitten my lip as I'd looked at the vibrator - now washed of salad-crisper, thank you very much - sitting on my nightstand. I'd even almost reached for it until I'd groaned and rolled my eyes. As if giving in to the dirty thoughts running through my head right then would be like giving in to Logan.
… Even if part of me would love the idea of giving in to him.
So I walked in to work ticked off, pent up, and on edge. But it wasn't until I'd gotten to my office - more specifically my assistant's desk - that I'd gone from ticked-off to just plain pissed.
"Oh, Dr. Archer?" Carol, my assistant, had looked up from her desk with her usual heavy dose of eye-shadow and her amazing Staten Island accent. "Mr. Dempsey wanted me to let you know that he needs to reschedule the team meeting today. He'll be in Washington D.C. for the evening."
My first emotional response is actually one of relief; relief that I might actually get a whole day without that arrogant prick trying to insert himself into my life, or my thoughts. But then of course, I'm annoyed, since the meeting is actually an important one.
"That's-"
What, ‘presumptuous of him'? Annoying? Typical Logan?
"Ok, thanks Carol," I say, blowing air out of my cheeks. "We can just have Peyton sit in and relay the meeting notes back to-"
"Oh, actually Ms. Wheeler accompanied Mr. Dempsey to D.C."
Yeah, that's about when I see red. Of course he brought Ms. Teeny-bopper Mickey Mouse Club on an overnight "business trip". Of course he did, the night after I manage to reject him and walk away feeling like I got the upper hand. It's like his own personal little retort to my storming away from him the previous night. His own little "fuck you" right back.
And if that "fuck you" involves a "fucking Peyton", I'm swear I'm quitting tomorrow and moving the day after.
"Dr. Archer?"
I shake my thoughts and look up from my desk to see Carol poking her head into my office. "Yes?"