Page 98 of Collision
“Tell me.” Thomas slaps a hand to his chest and says in an almost imperceptible whisper, “What can’t I have?”
“Seems obvious to me,” Logan says defiantly, throwing a glance in my direction. “It’s why you hate me. It must be frustrating, huh?” My mouth drops open in astonishment, and I frown at him. What the hell is wrong with him? Thomas takes a deep breath, looking like he’s about to explode. And at the exact moment when I think he’s going to attack, he pauses, a sinister grin painted on his face. He looks at me for an interminable moment, and I silently beg him to remain calm.
Then he looks at Logan, clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and proclaims, “I could fuck her right now if I wanted to. Right here in front of you, just to show you how fucking wrong you are. You can fool her with that choirboy face, but not me. The truth is, you’re a fucking psychopath pretending to be a gentleman. You can fuck every waitress in the state of Oregon, but none of them will ever belong to you either,” he spits at Logan with such hatred that it leaves me horrified.
“The facts suggest otherwise,” retorts Logan with an icy calm that only stokes Thomas’s anger. Logan puts a hand on my waist and pulls me close to him.
What the…
I don’t have time to pull away before Thomas is grabbing him by the collar of his sweater and slamming him against the wall with unimaginable violence. He punches Logan square in the face, splitting his lip.
I gasp and clasp my hands over my mouth in fright. Before I can think twice, I put myself between the two of them. I close my eyes and cover my face with my hands, ready to absorb the next punch headed for Logan. But it doesn’t come. I uncover my face slowly, and I see Thomas’s arm raised a few inches from my face, his angry eyes boring into me. “Move,” he orders peremptorily. At that point, seized by an uncontrollable rush of adrenaline, I grab his leather jacket and pushhim back with all the strength I have. I don’t know how, but I actually manage to get him away from Logan. I am about to lash out at him with all the fury in my body, but then I freeze. His gaze is glassy, cold. Full of suffering. There is a gleam in his eye that is completely foreign to me. Matt’s right. Something is wrong tonight.
I press my hands to his chest in an attempt to calm him, but he pulls back wildly. “Thomas! What’s the matter with you?” I stare at him, alarmed.
“This asshole provokes me, and somehow I’m the problem?” he rants, gesturing at Logan behind us.
“You started it!”
Thomas’s breathing is labored as he begins to pace back and forth in an attempt to control the anger that seems to be devouring him from the inside out.
“You’re getting fucked behind a bar and expect me to be cool with it?”
“That’s not what I was doing!”
“Then what the fuck were you doing?”
I scrub my hand over my face and shake my head. “Thomas, I don’t know what is going on with you tonight, but you can’t just take your anger out on other people! Just because you and I are friends now, that doesn’t mean that what I do in my personal life is any of your business!” I burst out.
He looks like I’ve stuck a knife in his chest, and I almost feel guilty in the face of such suffering. Then, without another word, he walks away around the side of the bar, and I hear him go inside: the sound of a violently slammed door echoes across the parking lot.
Confused and disturbed, I turn to Logan. I am angry with him as well, but when I see his bleeding lip, I reach for him.
“Oh my God, I…I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I lift his chin with my trembling fingers and he grimaces in pain.
“No. I’m not okay. He’s out of his mind, that guy.” He uses his thumb to wipe a dribble of blood from the corner of his mouth.
“Yeah, well, he…he’s not in a good headspace right now. And you were provoking him. Why did you do that?” I ask, distressed.
“Are you excusing him and blaming me? Let me remind you that I’m the one who got punched in the face!” he shouts, massaging his jaw with a surly look.
“Yes, I know. Sorry…” I lower my eyes, mortified. “I’m not excusing him, but this whole situation could have been avoided. Why did you have to goad him?”
“Because in case you didn’t notice, he was doing the same to me.” I fall silent. “Tell me the truth: What is going on between you two?”
Panic seizes my throat. My eyes grow wide. “Nothing.”
“But there was…wasn’t there?”
“No.” I stare at the asphalt underneath my feet.
“Vanessa…” he says, urging me to say more.
“It’s not a big deal, Logan.”
He tilts his head and lets out a frustrated sigh, sensing that this will be my only answer. He’s silent for a moment before asking, “Do you like him?”
“We’re friends.”
