Very Bad Things (Briarcrest Academy #1)(13)

Leo

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“I’m not waiting for the right girl because she doesn’t exist.” –Leo Tate

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Holy, shit! I bolted out of the bathroom with images of her X-rated body fried into my brain. Why had I stood there like an idiot while she took off every stitch of clothing? I groaned. I’d never look at her again without imagining her naked, without seeing her centerfold body in my head.

I got to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of ice-cold water and chugged it down, and when it was gone, I pressed the cool glass against my hot face. I’m not sure why she was able to get to me. I’m not a touchy feely kinda guy, especially when it comes to matters of the heart, but I think we’d had a moment that day at the open house. Which was ridiculous because I didn’t believe in that shit. However, there was no doubt I had to stay away from her. Maybe I needed to call Tiffany, my current hookup, who was definitely older than eighteen.

Tiffany knew the score; she knew I wasn’t good boyfriend material, because I’ve always made it known up front that I’m not in it for the long haul. I didn’t have time for some unrealistic notion of everlasting love. My gym, Sebastian, and the band were my priorities.

Nora was young and had needy written all over her. Something about her behavior wasn’t right. Mix that with the mother I saw and who knows what issues she had. Oh, she’d tried to come across as cool with her little striptease, but she didn’t fool me. She may have acted fearless, but I’d seen the way her hands shook when I mentioned her parents.

“She okay?” Sebastian asked, coming in from the living room. “You were in there for a while.”

“She’s fine and showering now. Can you grab some sweats and an ice pack?” I said, feeling weird as I looked at him. Shit, I’ve been lusting after a chick who was closer in age to Sebastian than I was.

He nodded and left.

I pulled out her phone and dialed Portia’s cell. It rang and rang and went to voicemail on five tries, so I gave up and scrolled through her contacts and found the name: Ellen Blakely, Mother. I had my finger on the number, but instinct made me put the phone down. In the distance, I heard Sebastian knock on the bathroom door and tell Nora the clothes and ice pack were sitting outside.

I unzipped her backpack that Sebastian had left on the kitchen counter, which contained the spray paint, a flask and, oddly enough, a seven-inch everyday carry knife. It had a smooth black-enamel handle, and when I popped it opened, a titanium-coated, stainless steel six-inch blade came out. Impressed, I studied it carefully. I’d known a lot of cops who’d come through my gyms, and I recognized this type of knife as an expensive brand that policemen chose to carry when off duty. As I wondered about why she’d need a personal-protection knife, a blue journal caught my eye, and I picked it up and flipped through it, finding a page where she’d made some list.

I read through it, having a what-the-f*ck moment at the things she’d written down. According to the school brochure, she’d been the perfect poster girl for BA. But the girl who made this list was not. This girl was set on destroying herself.

By the time the shower turned off, I’d been staring at her handwriting for several minutes, trying to understand her, knowing she was only hurting herself if she carried through with what she apparently intended to do a few moments ago in the bathroom. I shoved it all back into her backpack and walked to the bathroom door.

“Nora, Portia isn’t answering.”

Her voice was muffled from the other side. “Okay, let me get dressed, and I’ll be gone. My car’s across the street.”

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re drunk,” I said at bit louder. Maybe I’d been rough on her in the bathroom, but truthfully, I’d been a mixed bag of emotions, pissed off at what she’d done to my car, horny as hell at watching her strip, and then furious with myself for wanting to take her up on what she’d been offering.

She opened the door a crack. “Why do you care? I messed up your car.”

“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten what you did and you’re going to pay me back, starting tomorrow morning. Right now, just sleep it off. We have an extra bedroom down the hall,” I said, staring at the towel she had wrapped around her, a part of me wishing she’d drop it again. Damn. I looked away and stared at the family photos I’d hung last month. Photos of my parents and me at my high school graduation, photos of them with Sebastian on his first day of kindergarten. Staring at them made me sad, knowing I’d never see them again. Never experience that kind of family again.

“I promise I’ll come back tomorrow, and we can talk about how you want me to pay for the damage,” she said, pulling me back from my thoughts.

“Yeah, right,” I said with sarcasm. “If you leave, I’ll call the cops, and a BA girl like you getting arrested? The newspapers would love it.”

She chewed on her lip, and I saw the uncertainty on her face, like she didn’t know where to turn. Whatever. Deciding this conversation was finished, I turned around to leave, needing to put some space between us.

“Why did you call me Buttercup?” I heard her ask in a small voice.

I couldn’t answer that so I kept walking.

***

An ear-piercing scream jerked me awake, or at least, I thought it was a scream. There was nothing but silence in the loft now. I looked at the digital clock and realized I’d only been asleep for a few minutes. After I’d made sure Nora was settled, I’d tried to sleep, only I couldn’t. I’d lain in bed for an hour, staring at my ceiling, running our conversation and her insane list through my mind.