Very Bad Things (13 page)

AFTER THE MOVIE, we walked back to
the lobby, and while she went to the restroom, my mind was on her list again. I
wondered who she was having sex with since I’d turned her down. I shouldn’t
care, but I did.

She was probably fucking Cuba already. Or Sebastain. Or
both.

I stood there, waiting for her to come out. Should I stay
with Nora tonight, maybe talk to her about her list, or should I go be with
Tiffany? But, I was lying to myself because I wanted more from Nora than
talking. I wanted to do things with her I shouldn’t and being alone with her
was dangerous territory.

Tiffany, on the other hand, was older, available, and knew
we were short-term. She was the obvious choice. Yet, why did I feel like if I
chose Tiffany, then I’d be giving up and missing out on a possibility that
could be incredible? That, maybe, if I chose to stay with Nora, my life’s
direction might swivel and change into something entirely different? Something
I’d never known.

She came out of the restroom. And, damn, she looked
spectacular, making me forget my own name as she strolled across that lobby in
those red heels and tight as hell skirt. She shot me that sexy smile, and I got
an instant hard-on. And yeah, seeing her walk toward
me
was like hearing
the sweetest fucking rock ballad ever, playing loud and clear in my head. You
know the ones, songs about love and how you never believed it existed, until
you met her; songs about how you’ve been alone for what seems like forever, but
she’s gonna make it alright; songs about how you can’t breathe without her.
Yeah. It was like that.

And then it happened. Something big shifted inside me . . . inside
my heart.

Fuck. Me.

“Sorrow
is sometimes what awakens us.”

–
Nora
Blakely

I OPENED THE door to go back out to
the lobby. Sitting beside him for two hours, smelling him, feeling the warmth
of his arm close to mine, had made me hungry for more. We’d had fun together,
bantering back and forth, laughing and joking during the movie. I felt an
intense connection with him, and I think it had all started the moment I’d seen
him at the open house. Even while Mother had been ranting at me, I’d clung to
him, recognizing that maybe my heart could be his. And maybe it was ridiculous,
but tonight I’d felt like he was right there with me, wanting the same thing.

I walked toward him and smiled, feeling like everything was
going to be okay if we were together. He watched me the entire way, his
piercing pale eyes roaming over my body like he wanted to consume me. Heat
coiled deep inside me, my body yearning for his.

“Good movie. What now?” I said with a bright smile, knowing
I sounded eager, but I didn’t seem to be able to help it.

He didn’t speak. He just stared at me with this torn
expression on this face, like he was wrestling internally with some serious
conflict. I’d only been gone for ten minutes, tops. What had happened?

“Leo?” I said nervously after several long seconds of
silence.

He shook his head and stared over my shoulder, avoiding my
eyes; he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. And whatever we’d
shared tonight, I felt it slipping slowly away from me. I felt him withdrawing,
could see the distance growing in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I implored, louder than I should have. But I
didn’t care if people stared. All I cared about was wiping that awful, divided
look off Leo’s face. “Tell me,” I said, feeling smothered by his silence. I
grasped his hands, interlacing our fingers.

He blinked down at our joined hands and swallowed hard, his
Adam’s apple bobbing painfully. He lifted our hands up and kissed mine
reverently, like he adored me, like he wanted me. But then I saw what was
written plainly on his face. Regret. Soul-wrenching, heart-stopping regret.
No,
please don’t do this
, I begged in my head, refusing to accept what he was
going to do. I didn’t want to let him go.

Not before we’d even begun.

He squeezed my hands, like he needed my touch, like he could
have held on to them forever. But his actions didn’t match his words. “Nora.
Whatever this is between us, it can’t be. I have to let you go,” he choked out,
pulling his hands from mine. And it felt like he’d punched me in the gut, the
force of it knocking me back a few steps.

“No, please,” I said to him, shaking my head, knowing he was
throwing away something wonderful, something I’d only just discovered.

He looked pained as he cupped my face with his hands and
kissed me tenderly on the forehead. “Happy birthday, Buttercup,” he whispered.
Then he turned his face into a mask and walked out of that theater and out my
life.

I went home alone that night and drank my birthday vodka
until I didn’t hurt anymore, until I didn’t remember that Leo had deserted me.

A FEW DAYS later, the first day of
class at Briarcrest arrived. Since I’d spent the night with Aunt Portia, I’d
gotten up early to drive in from downtown and help her at the shop. So while
she baked, I made the coffee, set up the cream and sugar station, and helped
with the early morning rush. At seven, I used her upstairs attic room to dress
for school, choosing a pair of green skinny jeans and a white peasant blouse
with blue flowers embroidered on it. I straightened my hair until it hung in
burgundy ribbons down my back. I slid on my Tom Ford sunglasses and looked at
myself in the mirror, practicing fake smiles.

Ready for BA! Go, Tigers!
Yeah, right.

Located right outside of Highland Park, BA rested on twenty
acres and was a feast of academics, superb athletics, and extracurricular
offerings. With the majority of its students matriculating into Ivy League
colleges, it was hailed as one of the best private schools in the country.

I whipped my white Volvo into the parking lot, next to a
Mercedes and an Aston Martin. With a mission in mind, I hopped out of my car
and walked through the grand stone entrance of the main school building, not
stopping to say hi to anyone. Nope, I went straight to the counselor’s office.
I’d had an epiphany since Leo left me at the movies. I realized if I really
wanted to crawl out of this dark hole I’d dug for myself years ago, then I’d
need to start with big changes, like my future. I needed to wipe out everything
from my old life.

When Mr. Beasley saw me, his eyes grew wide, and he
blanched, no doubt remembering the
incident
. He told me to have a seat
while he shut the door.

“What can I help you with, Nora?” he asked, eyeing my red
hair. I was tempted to grin maniacally at him just to freak him out, but he
wasn’t the reason I was messed up.

“I need to know what credits I need to graduate,” I said,
getting down to business. “Considering that I take a full load every year, I
know I have
more
than enough already, but I’m sure there are some
classes this year I need for state requirements.”

He tapped a pen against his desk. “May I ask why?”

“No.” How on earth did I explain to this man that I needed
to break away from this place as fast as I could?

His forehead creased. “Is this something you need to talk
about, my dear?”

“Just tell me what classes I need,” I said, beating my
fingers against the arms of the leather chair, worried about the scowl on his
face. “I’ve been a model student here since seventh grade. I made this school
look good when I won the spelling bee, and my debate team has given this school
numerous trophies. I think you owe me here.” I sighed, hating to act like a
rich brat, but if I had to, I would. “And if you won’t let me do this, then
I’ll drop out of BA and take my tuition with me. I’ll enroll in another private
school and make them look good.”

This, of course, was a bald-faced lie. If he didn’t let me
do this, then I was screwed. No way would Mother pay for me to go somewhere
else. Dad’s entire family had graduated from this school, which meant I had to
as well. If he didn’t do this, then I’d have to drop out and get my GED.

He settled back in his leather chair. “You know this will knock
you out of the running for Valedictorian, and I know your parents will be
disappointed if you don’t graduate with highest honors.” He gave me a pointed
look. “If you do this, then Drew Mansfield will be valedictorian.”

“Drew can have it,” I said.

“What about scholarships? You have the full ride to UT, but
you might decide to go somewhere else. You’d talked about Princeton,” he said,
and I felt myself getting antsy. I didn’t want him asking too many questions.

I shifted in my seat. “Things have changed. I’ve changed.”

Mr. Beasley tapped at his computer, and my thoughts drifted
a bit, getting muddled as I thought of Drew Mansfield, my academic nemesis and
former crush who’d stabbed me in the heart. Our GPA’s had been in a race
against each other since we were freshmen, and we’d traded off awards and
medals every year. One year I’d get the Calculus award and the next year, he
would. One year he’d win the Dallas Area History Contest, and the next year, I
would. He was the captain of the debate team whereas I was co-captain. I was
editor of the yearbook and he was co-editor. Not only was he intelligent, but
he also played basketball and lacrosse for BA. Basically, he was the male
version of me, only athletic.

We’d also had a fling. It’d started this past January on a
debate trip we took together to New York. We’d ditched our chaperones on the
first day and roamed around Central Park, with Drew walking beside me. When the
other debate members weren’t paying attention, he’d hold my hand or whisper in
my ear how beautiful I was. I’d wanted him since seventh grade, and I think
he’d wanted me too, but he’d also had a serious girlfriend since sophomore
year.

But, they’d broken up a week before the trip.

The next day at the competition, Drew’s team swept the
debate, soundly trouncing my team and the other schools’, winning a first place
ribbon. With his height and commanding voice, he’d been riveting to watch and,
boy, I was riveted. I thought I was in love.

That night we’d gone back to the hotel and piled in Drew’s
room to celebrate by orchestrating pillow fights, ordering pizzas, and prank
calling the front desk to ask for condoms. By two in the morning, everyone had
gone back to their rooms except for me. Even though we were both exhausted from
the excitement of winning, it didn’t stop us from giving each other heated
looks that eventually led to us taking our clothes off. We spent an hour
kissing, touching, and teasing each other. He told me he wasn’t a virgin, and I
wasn’t surprised. He might have been labeled as a geek, but, as an athlete, his
physique was lean and tight and hard. I lied and told him I was a virgin. And,
in my mind I kinda was.

That night I explored him with my hands for an hour,
touching him ardently. Later, when I took his length in my mouth, he told me
exactly what to do, and I listened avidly to his instructions, wanting to do it
right and please him. I stroked and sucked him while he promised to be good to
me. Later, he’d returned the favor by kissing all over my body, leaving a trail
of little marks across my chest, my stomach, and my thighs. He touched me
adoringly, massaging my sex in soft, circular motions until I felt something
new and monumental building higher and higher within me. I’d tensed, almost
afraid, not knowing what this remarkable feeling was. He’d chuckled at my
naiveté, his lips pressed against mine. He asked me if I wanted to come, and I
told him yes. He spread my legs wide and licked right in the center of me over
and over until I screamed out, coming long and hard. Afterward, he’d pulled me
to him, told me how much he’d wanted me forever and made love to me until the
sun came up.

He taught me consensual sex could be incredible.

I figured he deserved to be Valedictorian for that alone.

“. . . AP English and a math credit is all you need. I
suggest you keep the Engineering Calculus class for that. It’ll look great on
your college applications,” Mr. Beasley was saying as I came back to the
present. “This means I can drop you from AP Russian History, AP Advanced Latin
II, and the Fiction Writing class.” He looked at me over his spectacles. “If I
click this button, then your schedule changes,” he warned me.

I calmed my nerves by counting the number of writing
instruments he kept in his cup. Exactly sixteen pencils and four pens. This was
it. Once Mother got a whiff of this, life would never be the same.

“Click it,” I said.

I also told him to drop me from the debate team, student
council, and the yearbook staff. He reluctantly complied. By the time we had my
new schedule printed out, I wanted to shout. I wanted to hug Mr. Beasley, but
that would only freak him out, so I didn’t. Instead, I tapped out a quick text
to Sebastian and Mila. I held my fingers over Leo’s number for a few moments,
but in the end, I didn’t text him.