Page 54 of Broken Princess

Logan

Iclose my laptop and head to the lobby of my dorm to meet my guest. Simon strolls through the doors unbothered by the gold lettering on the floor or the candelabras on the walls. He spins in a slow circle as a group of girls walks by him and I imagine he’s debating if he has time to talk to them before he has to meet up with me.

He finally spots me waiting by the desk, “What’s up, man?” He asks, walking towards me as I sign him in.

I take in his hair. It’s a little longer on the top than he usually wears it, but other than that he looks the same. People’s first impression of Simon is that he’s safe and sweet, because he’s always so focused on software design and math, and he’s happy with letting them think that. But they soon learn that once he lifts his head up, there’s no pair of panties that are safe.

“You got me here, so I hope you’re not working all weekend at your studio.”

“We’re gonna drop your shit in my room. Go off campus to eat, and then we’re heading to a party.” I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “If you’re up for that.”

“You know I am.”

“You sure you don’t need a nap, old man?”

“Fuck you, I’m turning twenty-one just like you are. I’m just sorry I won’t be able to come down on our actual birthday.”

Simon and I were born on the same day, and we couldn’t be any closer than if we were actually twins. “You’re here now, man. That’s good enough.”

Simon lets out a low whistle when we enter the house. The great thing about he and I growing up together is I don’t have to pretend my life is all roses or that I’m only interested in vanilla shit. It would’ve been epic if tonight’s party was at The Rift. We showed up later than everyone else because we had a few drinks with our meal, and got to talking about school, our app and other shit that neither of us share with anyone but each other.

As we make our way across the living room, the bodies blocking the path to the couch part without me saying a word. People are staring and I know the looks are not all directed at me. A lock of Simon’s dark hair falls into his face and tonight he’s wearing contact lenses so his violet eyes aren’t tucked away behind his glasses. It’s a running joke that when he’s working, he’s Clark Kent and when he’s partying, he’s the Man of Steel. The steel being that thing between his legs. Everyone knows I’m bad, but sometimes I think Simon is worse.

“No. Nah ah. Someone please tell me I accidentally mixed my allergy meds with a Valium or something and that I’m hallucinating.” Tabitha says as we get closer.

“You’re totally lucid, kitty cat.” Simon says taking the seat next to her. He leans forward, kissing her cheek, and she immediately wipes her face.

“Ugh, where have your lips been?”

“Nowhere yet. Though I hear that shouldn’t be a problem for more than five minutes.”

“You’re gonna just fuck some girls you don’t know?”

“Don’t judge me. It’s my birthday and I can slut it up if I want to.”

“Your birthday is two weeks from now.”

“You’re keeping track kitty? I’m touched? What did you get me?”

“Nothing.”

“Good plan. Don’t waste your time buying anything. I like homemade gifts.”

“You mean hoe-made gifts and I’m not giving you one of those either.”

I turn to survey the crowd, tuning the two of them out. They’ve been bickering like this for years.

“Your head finally matches the size of your body, kitty, but when are your tits gonna grow in?”

“They already have, nerd, just ask Logan.”

My head whips around at the mention of my name. “Hey, don’t put me in the middle of this.”

Simon’s smirk slips. He stands, jaw clenched, and says, “I need a drink.” I watch him cut through the crowd, pushing people aside on his way to the kitchen.

Tabby bats her lashes, a satisfied smirk on her lips. “Think it was something I said?”

“He’s only here for a few days. Do you plan to argue with him the whole time?”

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