Another Life

Part 5

I knew it was coming. Hell, anyone with a set of ears and a pulse knew it was coming. Scott had a hidden temper that he failed to hide, especially when it came to Jean. So when I heard his heavy footsteps charging down the hallway, I knew exactly who it was and why he was coming.

I was still in my room, I ran my fingers through my hair trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep. I didn't bother putting on a shirt nor locking the door. Scott wasn't the type to knock anyway.

Sure enough, the door burst open a second later, and there he was, standing in the doorway, his eyes blazing with anger. "Logan!" He snapped, his over loud and an angry persona. "We need to talk!"

I didn't even bother to turn. "What's the matter, Summers? Lose your way to your own room?"

"Don't play games with me," he said through his teeth, stepping inside, slamming the door shut behind him. "I know Jean was in here last night."

I finally turned to face him, leaning my back against the dresser, crossing my arms over my shirtless chest. "And?" I said, keeping my tone calm, even though I wanted to shove my claws so deep in his chest, he would spill out blood.

Scott's jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides. "And what? Did you fuck her!"

I could see the jealousy, the anger, boiling through him. He was trying to keep it together, but he was failing, and fast. I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral "why don't you ask her?"

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "You're crossing a line, Logan. You know that, right?"

I felt my own anger course through my veins like a volcano about to explode. My muscles began to tense up, closing my fists, my claws ready to slide out and strike "What line, Scott? The one where you treat her like complete shit, and I'm the one who picks up the pieces? Yeah, I know that line real well."

His face twisted with fury. "You think you're some kind of hero? You think she needs saving from me?"

"I think she deserves better," I shot back, my voice sharp and loud. "I'm better than you anyway."

That did it. I could see the moment the last bit of his restraint snapped. He lunged at me, his hands shoving against my chest, pushing me back against the dresser. I didn't resist. Not yet. I needed to be the bigger person for Jean.

"You son of a bitch," he spat, his face inches from mine. "You think I don't know what you're trying to do? You think I don't see the way you look at her?"

"You're the one that keeps fucking up, not me." I growled.

He shoved me again, harder this time, his fists pressing against my chest. "You keep your hands off of her, Logan," he warmed. "I mean it."

My claws were moments away from making an entrance. "Or what Summers?" I said, leaning forward, my voice a dangerous whisper. "You gonna try and stop me?"

He shoved me once more, but my patience was running thin.

"You stay the hell away from her," he said, his voice tight, controlled. "You hear me?"

I finally had enough. I pushed back, my hands gripping his shoulders, shoving him away from me. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Scott," I shouted. "Especially when it comes to her."

Scott stumbled back but regained his footing. His breath coming back fast and hard. "She's my girl, Logan," he shouted "not yours."

"Then maybe you oughta start treating her like it," I snapped back, my own voice rising. "Instead of making her run to me every time you screw things up."

I knew we were seconds away from throwing punches. Maybe that's what I wanted. Maybe I needed it. To let it all out, all the anger, all the frustration, everything that had been building up inside me since the day Jean walked into my life.

Scott took a deep breath, his hands still clenched into fists at his sides. "You're not gonna win here over" he said, his voice low, "no matter what you do. She's with me."

I felt my lips curl into a snarl. "We'll see about that."

He lunged at me again, and this time, I didn't hold back. I met him halfway, my fist connecting with his jaw, sending him staggering back. He recovered slowly, coming at me again, swing my wildly. I dodged, my instincts taking over, and slammed my shoulder into his chest, driving him back against the wall.

He grunted, but he didn't go down. Instead, he came back at me with a left hook, catching me in the ribs. I barely felt it. The adrenaline was pumping through my veins now, and all I could see was red. All I could think about was Jean, and how I want about to let Scott keep her from me.

We grappled, both of us trying to get to get the upper hand, but neither of us willing to back down. The room was filled with sounds of grunts and heavy breathing, the wall rattling as we crashed into them, knocking over a chair, breaking a lamp.

Finally, I managed to pin him against the wall, my forearm pressed against his throat. "You don't deserve her, Scott," I snarled, my face inches from his. "And deep down, you know it."

He glared at me, his eyes full of hatred, but there was something else there too... fear and doubt. "You think she's gonna choose you?" He spat. "You're a loose cannon, Logan. You're nothing but trouble."

"Better than being a coward," I shot back.

He tired to shove me off, but I held him there, my grip tightening. "She came to me, Scott. Not you. Remember that."

I could see the realization sink in, see the anger drain from his face, replaced by something else. Something like defeat. I let him go, stepping back, my chest heaving, my breath ragged.

He stumbled forward, catching himself on the edge of the dresser, his eyes never leaving mine. "This isn't over, Logan," he said, his voice hoarse, but I could hear the uncertainty in it.

"No," I agreed, my own voice steady and low. "It's not."

He straightened up, wiping a bit of blood from his lip and gave me one last look— a look full of hatred, of resentment, of jealousy— before he turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I stood there for a moment, my fists still clenched, my body still humming with adrenaline. I knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot. But I also knew one thing for certain: Scott Summers was scared. Scared that he was losing her. And maybe he was right to be.