When I first heard students discussing about it I thought nothing of it. I refused to believe that anybody could be so irresponsible. Rumors developed and spread much like cancer, growing along the way until they became so bloated and ugly that the original message disappeared altogether, so it was easy to brush off, no matter how often I happened to hear about it.
Then something, a small comment Scott tossed at the breakfast made me look harder and I realized that I had misjudged the situation completely, foolishly given too much credit to the man who had rescued Rogue’s life.
“You look chipper this morning, Logan. Finally scored last night?”
“Bite me, Cyke.”
Needless to say I started paying closer attention to both of them, Logan and Rogue.
They weren’t exactly close, hardly in speaking terms with each other. They nodded politely when they happened to pass each other at the corridors and I couldn’t detect any animosity between them. It looked like the mile wide protective streak in Logan had finally shrunk and shriveled, along with Rogue’s understandable but rather awkward crush on him.
Sometimes they spoke, sitting outside at the garden. It went against everything I believe and hold dear, but I listened. Topics of their conversations varied from weather to TV-programs, nothing improper there.
I was starting to suspect my own eyes and ears, as well as my intuition. Had they once again fooled me? Was I wrong after all, among everybody else, seeing things that really weren’t there?
I kept my thoughts in silence. If I was wrong accusations would ruin two lives. Yet suspicions kept growing, as did my uneasiness and worry. If I was right, at least one life was being ruined right under my nose.
Finally it became too much. I decided to take action.
I couldn’t even imagine confronting Rogue over something this… This personal. So I chose the next best candidate.
I found him from a roadhouse not too far from the mansion. No surprise there. Scantily clad woman draped all over him even less of a surprise.
What surprised me, threw me off the loop completely was the worried look on his face and his quick dismissive gesture that he used to get rid of the woman before he addressed me.
“Jean. Has something happened?” He asked. Perfectly reasonable question, seeing as it really wasn’t my kind of place he had chosen. But the question that his mind posed, practically screamed at me made me cringe. It wasn’t a question per say, but an overwhelming bout of panic and nausea, gut-gripping fear, and one word.
Marie.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” I asked, sitting opposite him, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and taking a swig. He swiped the bottle from me with a move quicker than I would have thought possible for the man of his size.
“This is not you, Jeannie…” He grunted, swaying the bottle and taking a sip. “Just like it isn’t you, not your style to snoop around. What the fuck are you looking for?” He asked.
I wasn’t brave enough to continue this conversation before one of us, or preferably both of us were considerably drunk. Coward? Me? You haven’t seen Logan angry. And I have inkling that I haven’t seen him really angry. And that’s something I don’t even want to witness. So I hailed a waitress and asked her to bring over anything in a clean glass. And then some more for Logan.
We sat there for a long while. I was desperately trying to get us both drunk, and Logan… He’s an asshole. He was enjoying every second of my misery, drinking it in and savoring it like I would do to a fine wine. Then, suddenly he took away my drink. Downed it with one gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You came here because you think that I’m screwing Rogue,” he blurted, his gaze flickering to the direction of the jukebox where a girl, couldn’t be much older than the object of our conversation was slowly swaying and grinding back and forth to the loud beat of the music.
“Are you?” I asked, trying to evaluate that gaze. Was that a flicker of lust? Or… No. Indifferent. The girl meant absolutely nothing to him; he just needed something to rest his eyes on. The way his jaw was set, a small muscle at the corner of his eye ticking… Outsider could have taken those as a sign of a hidden mirth, but there was nothing mischievous on his face when he finally turned to look at me.
“Scott came to me today, asking the very same question…” He started, and then turned his gaze again, seeking out the girl at the jukebox. She was young, petite. Brunette. There was some resemblance. “Basically I told him to fuck off. Did he put you up to this?” He asked, his eyes never leaving the girl as she gyrated, her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted.
“No. I wasn’t aware that he knew. I… For a long while I thought that it was just a rumor.” Music changed, the girl left the jukebox and sauntered to the bar where a young man sat, wrapping her slender arms around the man’s torso. Logan’s eyes followed her every move. I could have sworn that I saw a ghost of smile tickling the corner of his mouth. Then he sighed and turned to look at me again.
“One day that’ll be her…” He grasped the bottle of whiskey and took a quick sip, letting it rest in his mouth before swallowing. “One day she’ll have everything that girl over there has. I’m not as sure as hell going to spoil it from her…”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Jean's turn. This one could be seen as a companion piece to "Dreaming?"