Page 76 of Damnation
I pull my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on top of them. “You know him?”
He nods sleepily. “More or less.”
“You might not know, but the two of us dated for a little while. And Thomas never liked him,” I explain as I twist some blades of grass between my fingers. “When I broke things off with Logan, he tried to change my mind. It’s kind of a complicated story, honestly, and I feel confused every time I think about it. In the end, Thomas and Logan got in a physical fight. Actually, that happens just about every time they get within a few feet of each other.”
“Little Gem, far be it from me to stick my nose into things that are none of my business, but I think you should listen to Thomas.”
I look at him and scowl. “I should let Thomas’s jealousy interfere with my academic career? That’s not how a relationship is supposed to work.”
“True enough. But that Logan guy has weird vibes. Feels like he’s hiding something, something big. I wouldn’t want my girlfriend to hang out with someone like that either.”
“‘Someone like that’? There’s nothing wrong with Logan, I can assure you,” I say defensively, wiping my dirty fingers on the fabric of my leggings.
“Oh, come on, haven’t you noticed how he’s always by himself and doesn’t talk to anyone? Nobody knows anything about him. And he’s not on social media at all; doesn’t that strike you as suspicious?”
“Not having socials doesn’t make a person weird, Vince,” I say in an irritated mutter.
“But not having friends does,” he insists.
“He’s just an introvert. So am I. Since when did being a private sort of person become a crime? And he does have interpersonal relationships. He and I dated for a while, for example. And I know for a fact that he does have friends,” I add, thinking back on the roommate he playsCall of Dutywith and the guy he went to pick up when his car broke down.
“Hey, I wasn’t trying to upset you. Just keep your head on a swivel, okay? Thomas is an asshole, but he’s not actually stupid. If he wantsyou to stay away from Logan, he probably has his reasons,” he answers, yawning with a relaxed air.
“His ‘reasons’ don’t hold up. He’s just jealous, and that’s okay; I understand that. I mean, I would be too. But…”
“Jealousy is one thing; concern is another.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Just what I said. And maybe what I shouldn’t have said. Shit, I’m too drunk for this conversation.”
“Do you know something that I don’t?” I press him. But he doesn’t answer me. “Vince, spill!”
“No, nothing, just…trust him. He knows what he’s doing.”
“Do you mean Thomas? Is he doing something behind my back? Vince, if there’s something I don’t know, I demand you tell me!”
“Stop trying to weasel information out of the drunk guy. You…you just be careful, okay?” he slurs as he rolls onto his side and curls into a fetal position.
“Be careful of what? Of Logan?” I’m getting increasingly nervous as I get no response from him. “Vince! What are you trying to tell me? Is Logan ‘homicidal maniac’ bad or ‘shoplifts candy’ bad? Because there’s a pretty big difference between those two things.”
No answer again. I give him a vehement shake but to no avail. Apparently, he’s passed out. I am left with my mouth hanging open, speechless, heart thumping, and, frankly, slightly nauseous.
What the hell does all of this mean?
Eighteen
Once I realize that Vince is beyond my help, I am forced to call for backup. Matt puts him over his shoulder and takes him back inside while I go to find Tiffany. I tell her all about the predictable disaster that ensued between Thomas, Logan, and me, and only after saying goodbye to her do I finally go back upstairs.
Shut up within these four ink-colored walls, I do nothing but ruminate about Vince’s insinuations. And though I was distressed at the beginning, after thinking through everything and reviewing all of Logan’s behavior toward me, I decide that it was all just based on stupid prejudices. Caught in my spiraling thoughts, I realize only now that it’s three in the morning. I’ve heard nothing from Thomas. Sitting up in bed, I start chewing my fingernails as I stare at the clock radio on the bedside table.
What if something’s happened to him?
He wasn’t thinking clearly when he got on his bike; he was blinded by anger. What if…? I don’t even want to think about it. Panic is just about to seize my brain when suddenly the bedroom door opens, and Thomas appears before me.
I leap to my feet. His forehead is beaded with sweat, and I can tell his heart is racing. “Where have you been?” I shout.
“Shh! Are you nuts? You’ll wake up the whole house.”
