Chasing Impossible (Pushing the Limits, #5)(13)

Albert blinks. Several times, and it’s the expression of awareness. It’s a Bible quote and he recognizes it. His fingers drum the table and there’s a tan line on his left ring finger. This guy’s married or was married and I don’t know any frat boys with that lifestyle.

He smiles and laughs and it’s almost convincing, but he’s lied too many times for me to buy it. “Darkness.”

“You boys should go home soon,” I say as a tease. “Up and early for church.”

Two of them roll their eyes and Albert adds, “I don’t go to church.”

I nod like I agree. “Have a great life, Albert. See you later, Houston.”

I steal another chip and I walk away, my eyes roaming the room for Logan. Stupid boy staying stupid behind and possibly causing stupid problems for me.

“Hey!” It’s Houston and because he’ll hound me, I slip off into the shadowed corner again. “What the hell was up with the Bible quote?”

“He goes to church,” I say.

Houston tosses out his arms. “So do I and I still smoke pot. That doesn’t mean he’s a narc.”

“But you wouldn’t lie about it. He lied. I don’t care if you’re a priest, I’ll sell to you. In fact, I do sell to one, but I won’t if he lies. Albert’s hiding something. He’s a liar, and if I were you, I’d watch your back. Do me a favor, Houston. Don’t bring anyone else to me as a client for a while. You need to clean up your own household before you bring guests to mine.”

Houston jams his fingers through his hair causing his hat to fall off. “Fuck.” After he cracks his knuckles, he says to me, “Are we still good?”

“We’re going to have to switch up how we do things. Not just with you, with everyone in your frat, but I’ll figure that out later.”

Houston shoves his hands into his pockets and his shoulders sag forward, reminding me of a child discovering it’s possible to disappoint a parent. “I’m sorry I brought this trouble.”

“Just don’t bring it again. I’m serious. I can’t afford to be busted.”

Houston leaves and I text Logan. I told you I needed to work. Not cool. Where are you?

Nothing. An annoying silent response. Typical Logan.

Rachel wants me to find you. Says you’re sick. Do you need me to play hero?

The smirk feels good on my face. If that doesn’t get Logan all hot and bothered and ready to play, little else will. But the smirk wilts as each second passes with no response. I loathe the tickling sensation of fear licking in my stomach.

Not f*cking cool, Logan. Are you okay?

“We got a change up for everyone here,” calls the lead singer from the band. “A friend of ours is going to show us what he’s got on lead guitar.”

People near the stage scream and clap and I’m about ready to throw my cell against the wall. Stupid, stupid boy and stupid me for stupidly somewhat liking him and him thinking he can get away with not answering me.

“Give it up for our boy Logan.”

My eyes rip up, go for the stage, and my mind shifts into reverse, fast-forward, rewind, and then that smile that’s associated with the devil slides across my face.

Logan stands strong on the stage. Guitar strapped across his chest. Baseball cap backwards on his black hair. And when he strikes the strings of the guitar, those biceps flex beautifully.

That chord just struck a lot deeper than anyone could have imagined. Past my bones, past my muscles, and it’s created a nice warmth that’s curling around my belly. Liquid warmth.

The logical part of my brain demands that I walk away, but he’s the one that scared me by not answering back. He’s the one that’s causing all these alien emotions stirring in my veins.

Yeah, I shouldn’t kiss Logan. I should definitely leave a boy like that alone. But he returned and he’s the one that climbed onto the stage and is looking addictively sexy with that guitar.

Yep, shouldn’t kiss him, but I already told Rachel, I’m going to kiss the guitarist tonight. Wouldn’t want that one to be a lie, now, would I?





Logan

I lay my hand over the strings to stop the reverberating and the crowd goes insane. The lead singer, Danny, turns his head to me, grinning like a wolf over meat. “You killed it, brother.”

The blood’s pumping hard in my veins, and it’s a hell of a rush. I try not to think too hard if I’ll experience this same rush night after night, but for now—I’ll take the high.

I made more than a few mistakes, but not nearly as many as their other guitarist. I’m not the best around, but I’m not the worst. Just looking for a rush. Just looking for a way out.

I pull my guitar off and Danny walks over to me. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re in. I’ve got to talk to the rest of the band, but I can’t imagine them saying no. We’ll let you know.”

We share a short shake and the other members of the band pat my back as I walk off the stage and head to my guitar case. The beat still pounds through my body. Sly taught me my first chords when I was seven and I’ve been messing around with the instrument since.

Two girls slide into my space right as I lay down my guitar. One redhead. One blonde. The redhead touches me and her intent is perfectly clear. “Hi.”