"Why say something safe,
When I can blow you away."
Blue Eyes Don't Lie by You Me At Six.

Chapter Twelve:

"Have we met before?" His dark, brown eyes look down at me, piercing me in my place. Stiff, corpulent mouth moves slowly as he talks, as if he's trying to recall where he's chanced upon me before. I suddenly feel close to peeing myself

I clear my throat and part my mouth to give him an answer, aiming to make my voice stout, but it wavers a bit, betraying my timidity. "Er.. Um.. I don't think so." I try to wriggle out of his embrace, but he doesn't budge or give me room to move. He keeps staring at me, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Thank you." I say. He cocks his head to the side on a cogitative frown. "For catching me, I mean." I clarify, and shift again. This time he frees me.

I quickly tread away, looking back to peek at him, only to find him standing there, regarding my back.

Ah shit, what have I gotten myself into?

Within seconds, I arrive back at the table, and find Logan still there, quaffing a water. He catches me staring at the bottle. "I thought I'd slow down a bit. I'm driving." He demystifies, belting down the rest of the bottle. I expected him to be hammered after the drinks he guzzled down, but seemingly, he's used to drinking that much of alcohol without getting intoxicated. His eyes goggle at me for a moment, before he lowers slightly. "Your eyes are red. Were you crying?" He muses.

"It's the lights." I lie, not missing a beat. I know it's a lame excuse, but I don't want him to assume that I was crying my eyes out in the restroom, on the verge of a rancid panic attack.

"Oh." His forehead creases into a frown, before he looks around and gestures to the waitress, summoning her. "The bill, please." He says the moment she arrives.

Lola, my coworker at NIGHTS, casts us both a weird look before she shuffles away, still gawking back at Logan.

He chuckles, retrieving something from his backpocket. I look around, scanning my surroundings, and spot Falcon Guy. He's perched on a stool, sipping what looks like a martini, as he stares at me from across the room. He tilts his head to the side, clocking Logan, before he looks back at me. Does he know him? Of course he does. The guy conceivably knows Dylan very well, and Dylan is a close friend of Logan, so big chance is that Big Falcon Guy knows Logan. I quickly tear my eyes away, chewing my bottom lip in edginess.

"Good choice." I yelp when I hear a sudden feminine whoop in my ear. I spin, and find Ruth sashaying away. She momentarily glances back, giving me a wink, and I can't help but laugh. That woman is nuts-in a good way.

Logan gives me a perplexed look, and I perceive that Lola is back, standing there as she openly ogles him. He settles the bill, before he rises from his seat, and I notice him staggering a bit. Guess he's not that clearheaded after all. We take off, stepping out of the nightclub toward the parking lot.

"C'mon. I'll drive you home." He bumbles, pressing on the remote button.

My forehead creases into a frown, dismayed. "I don't think you're sober enough to drive. Why don't you hail a cab, instead?" I suggest.

He blinks at me for a long moment, before one side of his mouth quirks up. "Can you drive?" He questions.

"Uh.. Yes?" It comes out as a question.

He chucks the keys at me and I fail to catch them, bending down to scoop them up from the ground. "No. I'm not driving." I state, stalking after him as he opens the door to the passenger seat.

"Why not?" He asks, bemused.

"It's very expensive, not to mention new. What if I make an accident or something?" I admit my apprehension.

He rolls his eyes, before he gets in, slamming the door shut. He rolls down the window. "Nothing's going to happen. Get in and drive already." He motions with his hand to the driver's seat, exhorting me, and I finally relent, entering his luxurious car.

I clutch the steering wheel in an impenetrable grip, a spark of alacrity spouting through my body. I've never driven such a fancy car, and it agitates and electrifies me at the same time. I feel Logan's gaze on me. "I'm not paying you a penny if something happens." I declare, starting the engine.

He chuckles in response, punching an address into the GPS device attached to the dashboard. I pull into the driveway, my eyes fastened on the empty road. My fists never relax their grip on the steering wheel, unbosoming my uneasiness. After a few minutes, I feel the tension slowly leaving my body, but the fact that I'm perfectly aware of Logan's gaze on me throughout the entire ride, kind of spoils the easiness I'm beginning to feel.

The ride is reposeful and smooth, but my awkwardness blemishes the indulgence of it. I come to a gradual halt before his house, parking the car, and I finally turn in my seat to look at him. I'm not surprised when I discover that he's still unabashedly staring at me. I smile awkwardly. "Are you feeling alright?"

"You looked like a girl on a mission." He smiles, and it feels like he's leaning closer. "What are you doing tomorrow?" He queries.

Oh no. Not that please.

"Why?" I hastily ask, feeling alarmed. I don't want him to ask me out. I have yet to cogitate his confession from earlier.

He throws his head back in laughter. "Don't panic. I'm not asking you out. We're gathering tomorrow at EMERALD, and I was wondering if you want to join us." He explains, rising his hands up in front of his face in innocence.

"Oh." I finally say, a feeling of relief allaying my panic. "Yeah, sure."

He nods. "Wanna go together?"

Would that be a date?

"That would be great." I titter. I could use a lift, instead of the chafing bus rides. "I don't have your phone number though." I add, withdrawing my cell phone from my bag. He pulls out his from his pocket, and just like that, we exchange numbers.

I open the car door to get out, but he stops me, wrapping a hand around my wrist. "Take it home. You can drive over tomorrow." He facilely suggests.

"No." I hurry to say, hastily getting out of the car. "I'll just hail a cab."

"Are you sure?" He asks, following suit.

"Yes." I reply.

He stands by me as I wait for the cab I requested, staring at me all along, as my eyes roam all over my surroundings. I finally sigh, shooting him a disapproving scowl. "Stop staring." I catechise him, injecting a hint of amusement into my tone.

"Why? You're beautiful." He reasons, as if it's the most obvious thing in the universe, a frisky smile teasing his lips.

My face heats up in embarrassment, shaking my head. I nearly shout out thank you's to God when the cab I hailed turns up, rescuing me. I hustle into it, hurriedly waving at him and yelling, "See you tomorrow."

The moment the door is shut, I sag back in the seat, respiring in relief. I give the driver the address, before I drown in my thoughts. Why am I panicking like this? I surely don't want to get in a relationship, but that doesn't seem to be the reason I'm dodging Logan's attempts. I get weird vibes from the guy, and it's unsettling me. There's something with his winsome words and gentlemanly manners that makes me uneasy.

Looks like you only like assholes, a voice inside me slurs, and my eyes widen in shock. Like? No, no, no. Absolutely not. I don't like anyone. Where did that ridiculous thought come from?

My text alert chimes, drawing me back to reality, and I look down, only to find a text from Logan.

*See you tomorrow, beautiful.*

Awesome.

...............

Chilly air whams against me the moment I open the door of Logan's car, allowing my hair to aviate around, unburdened and out of control. Pitbull's "Messing Around" invades my ears, even before we stray into EMERALD, promising a colorful night, full of messing around. Logan flashes the bodyguard his fake ID, and I do the same, before we both waltz into the place. The smell of perfumed sweat, fused with alcohol and air spray, raids my nostrils, and I can't help but look around, scrutinizing the grinding bodies, and wishing I was able to dance and break free like them.

Memories from Logan's birthday hit my mind unannounced, reminding me of my indelible dance with Dylan. No, Candice. Don't go there.

I feel a hand flattening against my lower back-Logan's hand-urging me toward a table where the rest of the squad is seated. Claire and Dylan are the ones facing us. She notices us first, and she seems to say something to the rest of them, before three heads snap to look at us.

But my eyes choose to meet a pair of hazel eyes. They don't bear their normal pacifying glint to them. Instead, they are charged with darkness and antipathy. They burn through mine, making my stomach make a cluttered flatter. His eyes move between me and Logan, before something catches them. It's Logan's hand on my back. Just like that, he doesn't offer us any more attention, eyeing a glass of whiskey his holding. We greet one another, before Logan fetches us two stools from a nearby table.

"And now the party is complete." Trent hollers over the music.

"Yeahhh." Alexa yells back, giving him a high-five, and I note that both of them look a bit tipsy.

I try to catch Dylan's gaze, but he doesn't grant me any attention, lighting a cigarette. I want to tell him all about Falcon Guy from last night, but the plan doesn't sound executable with him being safeguarded between Trent and Claire. Has he changed his mind about our lessons? Was that Hellcat able to make him ignore me? There's only one way to know.

Minutes later, Logan leaves with Claire to order a round of drinks, and I inwardly slouch in relief, moving to take Claire's seat. I can feel Trent's curious gaze moving with me, but I don't look at him.

"Hey." I yell over the loud music.

Dylan's face lazily turns to gaze at me, his visage deadpan as ever. "Hey yourself." He mouths, taking a sip from his glass.

I force my eyes to stay fixated on his, and not divert downwards. "Have a moment to talk?" I ask.

He raises an eyebrow. "Why, Candy. I have the whole night." He winks at me, but it doesn't look playful at all.

I frown, cocking my head to the side. "Well-" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"But I'm not in the mood for talking." He adds, taking a drag of his cigarette, before he puffs the smoke in my face.

The fucking asshole. He seriously brings out the worst in me. I swing my hand back and forth in front of my face, warding off the smoke and trying to calm my flaring temper, before I lay out my cards. "I saw your friend with the falcon tattoo."

He freezes, his fingers slowly loosening their grip around the glass of liquor. Abruptly, he stands, and the stool makes a faint scraping sound as it's pushed back. It happens so fast, and I find myself yanked out of my stool by my wrist. I try to yank my arm away, but the grip he has on my wrist is ironclad. He doesn't stop until we're at the end of a long hallway where the restrooms are located. I yank my arm again and this time he lets go.

I face him, my face red with fury. "Who the fuck do you think you are, manhandling me like that?" I yell at him, my blood sizzling.

His face is just as red, and he stalks closer to me. I instinctively step back. Why am I acting like a coward now? I inwardly yell at myself to stand my ground, but the closer he advances, the farther I retreat, like a yellow-bellied chicken, until my back hits a hard wall."Where did you see him?" He asks quietly, his eyes hard as granite.

"None of your fucking business." I hiss at him.

He looks upwards, his face twisting in vexation, as if seeking the help of the universe. "So help me God. Where. Did. You. See. Him, Candice?" He asks through his gritted teeth.

"Still not telling you." I announce, making a move to break out of his shield, but he slaps both hands against the wall, trapping me.

"Please, tell me." He breathes out, and I open my mouth to protest, before I realise what he just said.

Did he just beg?

It kind of softens my insides for some reason, and I find myself conceding. "I saw him at NIGHTS last night" I say, before I tell him the whole story, and how the guy kept staring at me afterwards like a creep.

Dylan runs a hand down his face, before he says one word. One single word that makes any softness inside of me concrete. "Quit."

My mouth drops open. "What? Are you being serious now?" My voice begins to rise again.

"Yes, I am." He states.

"Oh yeah? Let me guess. You're gay and he's the guy you're doing behind closed doors." I leer in sarcasm, crossing my arms.

His eyes immediately drop to my pushed up breasts, before his eyes lower even more. I notice a glint igniting his eyes, and I look down in search for his sudden interest, only to discover that the shirt has hiked up, and about 6 inches or so of my stomach are showing. The pale jeans I'm wearing are hung low, showing the apexes of my hipbones.

His voice drops to almost a whisper. "Oh believe me. I'm not gay." He husks, his eyes still studying every single inch of me. I quickly unclasp my arms, straightening my shirt, and he clears his throat, looking up. "He's bad news." He returns to the main subject.

"Just like Logan?" I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He perks up at that. "Oh. Which reminds me. Are you hanging out with Logan now, Candy?" He cocks his head to the side, his voice bearing an edge.

"Any objections from the attorney?"

His lips press into a tight line, and it looks like his patience is running thin. "It's funny how a girl like you who can't even handle alcohol, is acting like a She-Wolf. It doesn't suit you." He lets out a humorless laugh.

That's it. I snap, shoving my index finger at him. "You don't get to decide what suits me and what doesn't, and you can shove your orders and opinions where the sun doesn't shine." Just like that, I spin and leave him standing there, his mouth wide open in shock. It feels damn good to be the one who walks away.

I prance back to the table, and Dylan arrives a minute or two later, and I'm the one who neglects him this time. Everyone gives us weird looks at first, before Trent starts to converse about the Mariners' previous game, with Logan joining him. Claire screws up her face at the both of them, complaining about how they're supposed to have fun, not talk about baseball, before she launches into the most ponderous conversation, babbling about how she's going to celebrate her birthday, which happens to be three months away. What's noteworthy is that Dylan and I are the quietest people on the table, and I'm sure everyone has noticed.

I don't know how much time goes by, before Trent leaps to his feet, declaring the need of new drinks. Everyone tells him what they want, before he stops, looking at me with an inquiring gaze. "Diet coke, right?" He asks, straightening his shoulders.

I don't know what possesses me, but it just happens, and I hear myself blurting out, "Actually, I'll have a Lemon Drop. "

It's time I let that She-Wolf emerge.

**That seriously was the third time I wrote that chapter. The first one sucked, so I didn't publish it, and when I wrote a good one, I deleted it by mistake and failed to recover it, so this one was my last attempt, and I admit that I didn't give it enough attention. I didn't even proofread; however, I'm very pleased that I was able to re-write it again. I was so pissed. hope you like it, and I hope you excuse my late updates. Finals are here *bangs my head against the wall*

I'll try to post another update this week. No promises though :(.

Yours truly,
Raghda.