Wild (The Ivy Chronicles #3)(59)

My face burned even hotter at the businesslike request. I obeyed, watching Logan from the corner of my eye. He followed suit, too. I didn’t know what I expected—for him to resist in some hot-headed display of temper? The only outward sign of his anger was a nerve ticking near his eye. His feaures looked cast in stone.

The cop issuing orders jerked his head to another policeman who stepped forward to frisk us. He made short work of the task. His movements were brisk and impersonal.

I could hardly process it all. I was reeling from the fact that this was really happening.

I was being arrested. If my mother could only see—

I killed the thought, refusing to let it fully form. It was too much to bear contemplation.

“Hands behind your back.”

We turned. My legs felt numb beneath me. Yeah. This was a real-life nightmare. I blinked. My eyes stung, and I couldn’t stop the hot track of tears from falling down my cheeks.

Logan leaned close to whisper against my face. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just a misunderstanding. We’ll get it cleared up.”

I flinched as his mouth brushed my cheek, and he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine, inquiring.

I whimpered as the officer closed the hard steel around my wrists and flinched at their grinding click. With my hands cuffed behind my back, I felt like the prisoner I was. I had done this to myself. This was my punishment. This was what happened to good girls when they decided to step off the path. I played with fire and got burned. Mom had warned me. She had taught me to be better than this . . . but here I was, being led from a room. Handcuffed. The smell of sex still ripe on me. The censorious eyes of police all around me.

I tore my gaze from Logan as we were ushered out into the hall.

“Georgia, look at me,” he commanded.

I shook my head and stared ahead. Other members of the kink club joined us in the hall. All of them were handcuffed like we were. I spotted Annie down at the end. Her shirt was inside out. She was shooting her mouth off to one of the police officers. Once they appeared satisfied that they had us all out in the hall, a female officer read us our rights.

I didn’t think I could sink any lower in my misery, but as her voice rang loud and clear advising us of our rights, something inside me fissured. My tears dried and I felt numb. Dead to pain. It was like this thing broke inside me, taking with it my ability to even cry.

“All right. Let’s go.” The officer who handcuffed Logan and me guided us forward. Stepping out onto the porch, the number of police cars with their flashing lights against the dark night only hammered home the enormity of the situation. This was bad. I was being arrested. Me. The girl who had worried about my permanent record since kindergarten. This went far beyond the shame of after-school detention.

Drivers had parked alongside the road to observe what was happening. A few people even stood outside their cars, necks craning as they watched the group of us being led down the porch steps. Neighbors gawked from the yards on either side of us and across the street. Several even had their phones out snapping pictures. I fought to swallow past the lump in my throat. Didn’t they have anything better to do than bask in the misery of others? I suddenly regretted every Jerry Springer episode I ever watched where I let another person’s misery entertain me.

I was put into a police car with Rachel of all people. Logan went in another one with another guy, and I was actually relieved for that. I wanted to be alone with my shame. I wanted to nurse my regret, stir it into a bubbly stew inside me, and let it strengthen my resolve to get through this.

I just wanted to wake up tomorrow in my own bed and forget any of this ever happened.

And yet I wasn’t alone. Rachel was with me.

“God.” She eyed me with disgust. “You look scared shitless. You’re not going to piss your panties, are you?”

I glared at her. Feeling mean and tired of her less-than-kind attitude toward me, I snapped, “I’m not wearing panties. Ask Logan.”

Her eyes flared wide and then narrowed to slits. “Nice. I’m sure he appreciated the easy access.”

I grunted, done with talking to the girl. “Look, I’m fine not talking to you.”

“Just like you’re fine jerking Logan around.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re the first girl he’s ever given more than two damns about and you don’t even give a shit.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I accused, rattling my cuffs behind me for emphasis. “I’m in handcuffs in the back of a police car because I came here to see him—”

She tossed her head back in laughter, her dark hair shaking all around her. “Oh, you’re going to blame Logan for this?”

“No. I’m not saying that.” I closed my eyes tightly in a pained blink. “It’s not his fault. It’s mine. I let myself get caught up in—” I stopped and swallowed. I wasn’t about to confess to Logan’s obviously jealous best friend that I was in love with him. “I came here tonight for him.” No matter how much I kidded myself, it was for Logan. “And now here I am. If this isn’t proof that I need to let whatever this is just die between us then I don’t know what is.”

“I agree.” She nodded, dropping her head against the backseat. “That sounds like a fanf*ckingtastic idea. I can’t imagine a better graduation gift. You’re no good for him.”