Played

If you ask me which is the most boring subject I've ever studied, I'd say Economics without hesitation. Right now, I'm doing everything I can to keep my eyes open. Looking around the room, I notice that some students in the last row are either asleep or on their phones. Some are trying to stay awake, like me, and a few are completely engrossed in the subject, which is admirable. Mrs. Franks isn't concerned with how many students are listening to her lecture; she's only concerned with how many are in the class. I tolerated this class because I needed to be there. I suppose that is the only reason why so many students are present here. It's even more boring because Scar and Tyler don't have the same schedule as me today. So I'll just have to sit here for an hour and a half, brooding. If I had the choice between economics and accounting, I would take the accounting in a heartbeat. It's not my favorite subject, but I don't have a choice because I'm majoring in Business Studies.

With a slip in his hand, a member of the university staff enters the room. Mrs. Franks accepts it and, after reading whatever is written on it, scans the classroom until her gaze falls on me.

"Miss Kingston, please report to the front desk as soon as possible with your belongings. You may leave now." She spoke in her usual monotone tone. When I heard my name, all traces of sleep vanished from me like a bucket of cold water was poured on me.

I walked as fast as my legs could carry me to the office. Even though I was relieved to be saved from going into hibernation in class, my curiosity about what went wrong increased by the second. I opened the door after greeting the sweet lady at the reception, who is also the secretary to the university Vice-Chancellor, to find the chancellor, Mr. Augustine, seated on his chair in front of his desk.

" Good day, Mr. Augustine. "I was called up," I explained vaguely.

"Please come in, Miss. Kingston. Please take a seat." He said this while pointing to the chair in front of him. I approached it with caution and sat down.

"Miss. Kingston, You have the rest of your day off," He said with a nonchalant face.

What he said caught me off guard. Why should I take the day off? Is it something like a suspension? But I've done nothing wrong, and I didn't ask for this either.

"I'm delighted to hear that, Mr. Augustine. But may I inquire as to why?" I said, trying my best to contain myself.

"It's at a request, Miss. Kingston," he explained.

"May I ask as to who made the request, sir?" I inquired, perplexed.

"Mine" I jerked my head to the door to see..... him. I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes slightly.

Logan was leaning against the door's threshold, his hands casually tucked in his pockets, as if he owned the place. He had a slight grin on his lips. What exactly does he want now?

"However, Mr. Augustine, why should I accompany him?" Controlling my rage, I inquired.

"The answer to your question will be provided by Mr. Watson, not by me." I was simply asked to give you the day off."

"How can you simply trust an unknown individual and ask your student to accompany him?" I practically snapped at him without even realizing my tone had changed. Logan had taken a seat next to me and was staring ahead as if nothing was happening. "Be careful, Miss; you don't get to raise your voice like that. Mr. Watson stated that you are his friend, so I believe you will be fine with him."

"However, but-"

"I hope you are aware that I have the authority to expel you from this university even if you have done nothing wrong. But I don't think you'd want me to do that right now. So, please, leave now. With him." He abruptly cut me off. In a rage, I clenched my fist beneath the table. He may be my chancellor, but he's a jerk, just like the person sitting next to me.

"OK," I said dejectedly as I rose from my chair. Logan and Mr. Augustine exchanged handshakes before Logan pushed me forward with his hand on the small of my back. I was irritated as hell by the time we arrived at the parking lot.

"Is this the best you could come up with?" I asked. I haven't seen or talked with Logan in the past two days, despite the fact that he has been bombarding my phone with calls and texts. But he never came to my apartment and asking to let him in, which I appreciate because he respects my personal space.

"You gave me no choice." With a smirk, he said. Oh, how I wish I could just rip that smirk off his face.

"How did you persuade Mr. Augustine to agree to this?" After a few seconds of silence, I inquired.

"Oh, about that. Watson Enterprises is a consistent donor to this university. We also hire the best students on scholarship to work for us. So, in essence, I have an advantage over Augustine and the main chancellor. "I hope you can see the connections now," he said. I sighed, knowing there was no getting out of this.

"What exactly do you want, Logan?" I inquired, irritated.

"I want you to listen to me before jumping to conclusions." He stated. I turned to give him my best death glare.

"What if my response is NO?"

"Think again, Lia. I'm hoping I have something you'd be interested in hearing." He stated arrogantly. I sighed and walked away.

"It's all about Oliver. I discovered some information about him. Things I believe you should be aware of" His words stopped me dead in my tracks. What? What could he possibly know about Oliver, which I learned is the name of that green-eyed man.

I deliberated for about two minutes before deciding to listen to him. When I turned around to face him, I gasped. His chest was only an inch from my face.

"So..?" He asked quietly, his hot breath brushing against my brow. I regained my posture as I took a forceful step back.

"Fine. What exactly is it?" I inquired.

"Come with me." He said this as he walked to his car. At first, I was hesitant. Should I follow him? What if he takes me somewhere I don't want to go, such as handing me over to Olivier? I'm such a mess right now.

I shake my head, mentally chastising myself for this thought. Logan isn't going to do it. He c-can't and w-won't.

"Lia," I called out, looking up to see Logan standing near the door. Everything was revealed by his eyes. His eyes beg me to trust him for the time being. Before following him, I took a deep breath. As he opened the passenger door for me, I mumbled a faint thank you. Logan shifted the car into reverse before speeding out of the university road and onto the main road. He pulled over to the side of the empty road after driving for fifteen minutes.

He shifted the lever into the park and unbuckled his seatbelt before he turned around to take something from the backseat. It was a blue folder.

"I've been keeping an eye on Oliver since that night at your apartment. I had my special agents tail him for several days. I've also personally looked after him to see if there's anything unusual going on. And I've come across many things that have left me completely stunned and perplexed." He sighs deeply.

"I'll be honest, I didn't believe you when you said Oliver was the one who murdered your parents. But that's because Oliver has always been one of my closest friends. He was, in fact, a well-wisher for me. He was one of the few men who stood by my side during my darkest times. It was also difficult to accept that he had done such a thing to your parents. I needed some time to think about it." He leaned forward and reached for my cheek, but the moment his fingertips touched mine, I jerked my head back in reflex. His face was clearly hurt before he drew his hands back to himself. I know that if he touches me, all of my barriers will crumble and I will be vulnerable to him once more, making it easy for him to manipulate me. Even though deep down, I know he would never do such a thing.

"I was aware that Olivier played a role in the dark world, but not to this extent. It was mostly due to the fact that I had not done a background check on him...until now. He has murdered numerous people and destroyed many families. He's a murderer."

He took out the file folder and handed it to me. I scan the pages quickly and look at him, puzzled because I don't understand anything written down. From what I can tell, it displays various time zones and lines of some programming language?

"This is the information obtained from Olivier's phone a few days before your parents' murder. He received a text message from an unknown number that said, 'Meet me immediately.' Even though I couldn't find any further details of the number, from the area code I found it was from Worcester"

I look ahead, my arms crossed in front of my chest. "Why are you saying this to me, Logan?" I ask him. He's telling me something I already knew. That Oliver was in Worcester, and he was the one who destroyed my life. Even though he was wearing a mask at the time, I'll never forget his face and features. But when I saw him in New York, I confirmed it, and he also told me he'd kill me if I ran away from him.

Logan sighs and closes the folder before tossing it into the backseat. "I wanted you to know that I have no role in this, contrary to what you believe. Oliver may have introduced me to the world of drugs and fighting, but that's all there is to it. My relationship with him was based solely on those two. "I had no idea he also killed people for a living," he explained. I turned my head to look at him, and I saw the desperation in his eyes to persuade me to believe him.

I averted my gaze, lots of new emotions washing over me. I really wanted to believe him, to put my faith in his words. But I'm finding it difficult because of my residual doubt. What if he's making this stuff up? Trying to persuade me that he is innocent by revealing false details before handing me over or pushing me into a hell of agony and despair. I know I'm probably jumping to conclusions based on seeing him with Oliver that day, as he said. But I can't help myself. My emotions are messing with me right now, and they are causing me a lot of problems.

"How can I put my trust in you, Log?" My eyes are starting to burn as I ask him in hushed tones. There was an agonizing silence between us. I wanted to look at him, but I couldn't because I was afraid. I'm terrified of seeing his reaction, which I know will break me. My feelings for him haven't changed.

"I expected," he said as he swallowed heavily and cleared his throat. "I expected you wouldn't trust me right away. So I was also prepared for that." He looked for something in the center console before extending it to me. It was a 128 GB USB drive.

"I always schedule my fights with Oliver in advance, except for some like that day at your apartment. Our meeting will take place either at my house or at the office," he says, and I look at him puzzledly, asking why USB?

"All of the CCTV footage with audio from our meetings since last year, to be exact, from two months before your parents' murder to this date, is all recorded on that USB. If that isn't enough, you can always ask Mom or Patrick for information. I can also provide all of the information and details stored on my phone. I've been using it for the past two years."

Logan's willingness to go to such lengths to prove his innocence made my heart clench. It shows that he still cares about me and that he still wants me.

I nod and take the USB from his grasp, even though I know I won't use it. This is sufficient for me. Enough to believe his words.

"I want to go home," I said feebly, my emotions raging. Logan's face immediately dropped, and I felt terrible. But I need some time to process the events of the last few days. I need time so that I can be consumed by the guilt of accusing him before I apologize. All because my egotistical self finds it difficult to immediately apologize to him.

We didn't say anything during the entire ride to my apartment. Logan maintains a stiff and rigid posture throughout, his jaw locked. He comes to a halt in front of the apartment. I picked up my bag from the floor and pushed open the door.

"Karolia," I said, turning around to see Logan looking at me with unspoken emotion.

"The choice is yours. You are free to take as much time as you want. I'm ready to give you space" I nod my head gratefully before leaving him in the car with many unspoken words and emotions between us.

*****

In the blink of an eye, a week has passed. I'm glad today is a Friday because it means I can relax and watch Netflix all night. But, looking back over the last week, from Logan's arrival at the University on Sunday to Thursday, it was a whirlwind. Logan, true to his words, gave me the space I requested. But it was the realization that I had accused him of something he had not done that wrecked me the most.

I hoped to see Logan at work on Monday so I could apologize to him in person. But he outperforms me in that regard. Logan was not in his office when I arrived; instead, he had a draft version of work that I needed to type on his table. When I inquired about his whereabouts, Mia stated that he was at a conference. I even slowed down my work in the hopes of seeing and talking to him. But, even after four hours, he had not returned. That day, I left with a heavy heart, knowing he was doing this on purpose because my stupid self had asked for some freaking space.

The following days were the same, and the guilty trip became more intense. I even tried to text him, but at the last minute, I decided to delete the long typed text and throw away my phone. My ego is bigger than Logan's entire mansion! Nothing, however, could change the fact that I yearned for him.

Scar realized right away that something was wrong between me and Log. Scar and Pat invited us to a movie marathon at Pat's house on Wednesday, but neither of us showed up. I didn't because Scar said Logan declined the offer right away, which saddened me, so I made up an excuse.

A knock on the door jolted me out of my reverie. I walked to the door, cracking the knuckles on my fingers and neck to release the tension. Scarlet barged inside after pushing me aside, mumbling something under her breath, as soon as I opened the door. I blinked, perplexed.

"Scar," I called, and she turned around with a disoriented expression on her face.

"What happened?" I asked her.

"Patrick asked me out on a date," she pouted. I raised my eyebrows. So? I couldn't tell how many times they went on dates. Maybe around 20 or so. So, what's the problem here?

"So?" I asked.

"So!?" "I don't have a dress to wear, and that bastard told me it's a double date, which means I have to look fancier than the other girl to impress them more," she said in disbelief. I rolled my eyes as she huffed. I'm still perplexed by her strange obsession with dressing far more formally than anyone else in the restaurant. Patrick, I believe, likes her for who she is, not what she is wearing. But this bigot doesn't get it.

"How can I help?" I inquire. Obviously, she came to me because she needs my help.

"I need to raid your closet," she says, and I laugh at the way she says it.

"What do you think about this?" She cinches a black sleeveless gown around her waist. Scar purchased this dress for me during the first few days of my arrival in New York. She purchased a plethora of dresses in the hopes of cheering me up at the time.

"No," My head shakes, and her shoulders slump in defeat. The dress is lovely, but it isn't Scar's style or type, as she is all about sequins, stones, and designs. This dress is simply black.

"There's a white bodycon dress with a belt in the center made of stones somewhere inside," I said as I sat on top of my bed. Scarlet's eyes brightened immediately, and she began looking through my wardrobe for the dress.

"Yes," she exclaimed loudly when she discovered the dress. I was amused by her enthusiasm. "Thank you" she came forward to press wet kisses on my cheeks and I shrieked, pushing her away. Scarlet's phone rang loudly, jolting us out of our childishness. She picked up the phone, but her expression quickly faded.

"OK," she said sadly into her phone before hanging up.

"What happened?" I asked her curiously.

"The other girl who agreed to join us on this double date backed out at the last minute. So Patrick said they're going to make it a boys' night, or if I have any girlfriends ready for this, then it's still on." she covered her face in her hands and shakes her head. I comforted her by wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

"Don't worry. We can have a sleepover, watch Netflix, and eat a lot of junk food." I nudge her side to encourage her.

"But I was really looking forward to this," she mumbled sadly. I press my lips together firmly. Yes, abandoning a plan at the last minute stinks.

"But," she said, raising her head to look at me with a hopeful expression. "You could come with me," I stare at her puppy eyes that she knows very well would always work on me

"NO"

*****

I walked into the fancy-looking Italian restaurant dressed in an A-line jewel black embroidered off-the-shoulder gown an hour later. The look was simple but elegant. My face was covered in a thin layer of foundation, and my eyes had a smoky tinge around them, giving them a mysterious appearance. My lips were luscious with light pink lipstick, and my brown hair was fanning over my shoulders in soft curls that complimented my dress.

"Your date is a nice young man. I guarantee you'll like him." Scar gave me his word. I rolled my eyes at her, becoming irritated.

"I'm still angry at you," I mumbled. I tried everything I could to get out of this mess, but Scar persuaded me that it would take my mind off everything and blah blah. I'm not interested in this at all, and I'd rather stay in my apartment, cuddled on my couch, brooding over everything. I don't want to know anything about any guy who isn't a certain blue-eyed six-foot-tall handsome devil who is constantly in my thoughts 25/8. I wouldn't be here if Scarlet hadn't been on the verge of crumbling. She can drag me up here, but she can't force me to talk to whoever my date is. I'll keep playing my phone games throughout the date, ha! I don't have to impress anyone in this room.

A sweet-looking waitress directed us to Table 7, where two men dressed in suits sat facing away from us. When Scarlet cleared her throat, they both turned around. When I saw who my date was, my eyes widened slightly. I could tell my date was surprised to see me. I narrowed my eyes at Scarlet, who was smirking.

I got played!