But he doesn’t let me say a word, just grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs me along that way.
“Logan! Stop! Ow!”
He twists my hair around his fist. It’s like hewantsto hurt me.
“Shut your mouth and start walking, Lia,” he growls in my ear.
Between the smack on my butt and the way he’s pulling my hair like I belong to him, I’m seething. But something in his voice makes me obey. Which only angers me more.
He walks hurriedly down several streets, his hand still in my hair, and I have no choice but to stumble after him, because the way he’s tugging my hair hurts.
At last, we reach a somewhat less dangerous neighborhood, though that’s not saying much for Oakley. Still, he slows down and even lets go of my hair, though it’s only to squeeze his hand around my elbow instead.
“What are you doing?” I snap, trying and failing to get out of his vise-like hold. “You can’t treat me like that! You can’t spank me!”
“You’re a real brat, do you know that, Lia?” he says, though he doesn’t sound angry anymore, only tired. And maybe a little amused. “Doesn’t your daddy ever spank you for being such abrat?”
“He does not!” I huff out. “And I’m not a brat! So you can’t—”
“Uh huh,” he cuts in. “And what are you doing, riding your bike down the most dangerous part of Oakley?”
I toss my hair back. “I’m going to my friend’s house.”
“Does your dad know?”
“It’s not your business what he knows or doesn’t know.” I try to look as condescending as possible, but his quiet smirk unsettles me. “Anyway, he’s not here.”
“Oh? Are you all alone?”
Is it my imagination or does he look… concerned?
“Just for the night. And I lost my keys. Doesn’t matter. Are you going to let me go now?”
When he makes it clear that he has no intention of doing that, I add, “Also, what areyoudoing in the most dangerous part of Oakley?”
“Following you.”
My eyes widen, and I stare at him, looking for a sign that he’s joking. But he doesn’t seem to be.
“Uhm… that’s a little creepy, isn’t it?”
He merely shrugs. “Someone needs to look after you, since you’re clearly incapable of doing it yourself.”
I open my mouth, wishing I could spew out a long list of curse words so that the idiot knows exactly what I think of him. But I can’t find a single thing to say, other than, “What was that you gave him? Money?”
“Yeah. I paid for the bike.”
“You… paid for it? But it’s mine! Why didn’t you just tell him to shove off?”
“Because, Lia,” says Logan, his voice hard again, “we’re in a bad neighborhood. And that guy is about twice as big as me. So I didn’t exactly have a ton of options for getting you out of therein one piece.”
I hesitate, part of me wanting to thank him. Another part wanting to… beg for a hug, because I’m secretly a little freaked out, and I know I’d feel safe in his arms. Also, I kind of want to know what his hair smells like.
Ridiculous. The third part of me, the one that makes me want to yell at him, because that’s the only way I can make sense of the other weird feelings, comes out on top. As usual.
“Pathetic.” I roll my eyes. “Bet your head is pretty inflated right now, thinking you saved me. But you’re too much of a scaredy-cat to even get into a fight over me. So pathetic. Anyway, aren’t you dirt poor? You’re an orphan. How did you get all that money?”
If Logan looked somewhat amused at the first part of my speech, his lips flatten into a line at the second part. Keeping his iron grip on my arm, he starts pulling me down the street again, seeming to know exactly which friend’s house I’m going to, and where it’s located.