Very Bad Things (Briarcrest Academy #1)(61)

“You never said why you moved out,” he said quietly.

I flinched, and he stopped chopping to look at me. “I’m not letting you eat until you tell me and that includes dessert, Buttercup.”

I blinked at his teasing. This was a big leap from the day before when he’d given me the Paris book. That whole conversation had been strange. But if I wanted us to be friends, I had to get past the fact that he didn’t want to be with me.

I smiled. “Hmmm, I guess it depends on what’s for dessert.”

He smiled back. “It’s a surprise, so give me the deets.”

I shrugged and gave him the G-rated version. “Mother found out I dropped most of my classes and extracurriculars. Appearances are important to her. She flipped out.”

A few seconds ticked by, and I admitted, “She may have found some cocaine in my purse . . .” I held my hand up at Leo’s suddenly very angry face. “I didn’t snort it, Leo.”

His mouth tightened as he attacked the onions and garlic he’d put in the sauté pan. Wanting to explain more to him, but scared of the questions it might raise, I tried to ignore him. I reached up to the pot hanger above the island and took down a stock pot to boil the noodles.

His silence was killing me.

“I’m not a druggie,” I told him after I couldn’t stand it anymore. Cocaine had been a stupid idea. When Finn had forced me to take it, I’d been a zombie.

He stared at me, his eyes disappointed.

I sighed. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to promise me you aren’t going to do drugs or anything else on that shitty list.”

“I’ve dyed my hair and got a nipple piercing. So what?”

“Yeah,” he said, gazing at my chest.

I crossed my arms and glared at him. Don’t even think about it, mister.

“What else have you done? Random sex?” he asked, standing there motionless, not paying any attention to the hot pan sizzling on the stove.

I shrugged, deciding to not admit I’d abandoned my list. Why did he care if I had random sex with someone?

“Cuba’s willing,” I said.

“What do you mean Cuba’s willing?” he said, slamming down his cooking utensil.

“He wants me, and maybe I want him. He is hot. And I love his hard body,” I piped up, embellishing the story a little. “Of course, I gotta work out the whole ménage thing. I tend to want all the attention.”

Leo’s nose flared. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, he wants to.”

“Stay away from Cuba Hudson,” he snapped at me.

“Why?” I said. “Because you’re jealous? Because you won’t have me, so no one can? It doesn’t work like that, Leo.”

He stood there with clenched fists, and I just didn’t get his reaction. He claimed he didn’t care about me in a girlfriend way, yet he was angry.

Seeing his tense stance reminded me of the tiger in him. With a name like Leo you’d think he’d be the lion type, but he wasn’t reticent enough. Lions are a bit on the lazy side, basking in the sun, expecting the lioness to drag home the kill and let him eat first.

But male tigers are different. They hunt and let the female and the cubs eat first. They’re caretakers, just like Leo. I mean, couldn’t he see how he took care of others? Sebastian, Teddy, and even me? Yet, he wouldn’t let love in.

He wouldn’t allow anyone to take care of him.

Or maybe he was letting love in. Maybe he did love Tiffani. I wanted to barf.

“You have no right to tell me to stay away from someone when you have your psychic,” I said.

He seemed to deflate. “You’re right, and I’ll drop Cuba, but I want you to listen to me,” he said. “A junkie killed my parents, and it freaks me out that you might have used drugs. If you need help, I’ll get it for you. I know your parents have cut you off, but I’ll give you everything: a place to live, money, rehab, college. If anything ever happened to you—” he looked back down at the pan on the stove.

I sighed sadly, because he only meant those words as a friend. “I did have cocaine, and yes, I thought about using, but in the end, I didn’t.”

“But you’ve taken it before?”

I stiffened. “I’ve taken it before, but I didn’t want to,” I said. “End of story. New topic, please.” I looked down the hall, needing a distraction. “Where’s Sebastian. He’s taking a really long shower.”

“Sebastian?” he barked, his lips thinning. “What’s going on between you two? He’s falling for you, you know.”

“He’s my friend, Leo.”

He glared.

“Look,” I said, getting back to the original topic, “don’t worry about the list. I made it when I was angry. I’m not going to OD with drugs or end up in jail. The coke wasn’t even mine; it was Finn’s,” I said, biting my lip hard when I realized I’d said his name.

“Who the hell is Finn?” he demanded, suddenly livid. “Your ex-boyfriend?”

I felt the blood leave my face.

“Buttercup?” he asked in a lowered voice.

“Don’t call me that. It’s a term of endearment, and you need to save those for Tiffani,” I said, pointing at him.