He Belongs With Me

by Sarah Darlington

  “Are you okay? Are you okay?” I shouted, stumbling through the long, overgrown grass, desperately trying to reach the hopefully-not-dead person. “Please don't die on me! I'm so sorry.”

  “Shit! Motherfucking shit!” the non-dead person cursed in agony.

  I froze. Lying sprawled in the grass in his designer suit was none other than Leo Maddox. I hit Leo? What sweet poetic justice. I still felt horrible for hitting someone with a golf cart, but once I saw it was only him, I felt significantly less horrible. “Leo?”

  “What the hell, Clara?!?” he yelled up at me from the ground. He sat up unsteadily, clutching his left thigh. “You did this on purpose!”

  “Yes, I tracked you down and ran you over on purpose. Next time you'll think twice before saying anything nasty to me. No, of course I didn't do this on purpose!” Kicking off my heels, I kneeled next to him. The long grass scratched at my bare feet and legs. We were so close that I could smell him, a mixture of expensive cologne, mint, and Leo. He went through a 'smoke like a chimney' phase a few years back, but I noticed no trace of cigarette stench on him now. Strangely enough, I found the mixture of his scent almost intoxicating. Almost. But this was Leo, someone I would never let myself consider even if we were the last two people alive, and so I breathed through my mouth. Grabbing at his fingers, I peeled them off the leg he was so desperately holding on to. “Let me see what I did.”

  “No thanks, I'm fine.”

  He drew away from my touch, but I wasn't giving up that easy. I squinted through the dark but got a good look at nothing—it’s not like I could magically see through his pants. “You're going to have to take those off so I can see how bad it is. I need to know if we should call 911 or get you to a hospital.” Not bothering to ask for permission, I reached for his belt.

  Leo leapt to his feet like I had just tried to violate him. “Whoa there, killer. Let me buy you a drink before you take my pants off. Like I already said, I'm fine. You didn't hit me that hard.”

  I groaned. “I know how hard I hit you and you can't be fine.”

  Testing out his leg and proving me wrong, he walked around in a full circle. Considering how much he probably had to drink this evening—since getting plastered was Leo’s usual style—he seemed better than okay. “See? Fine,” he said, patting his leg. “Nothing's broken or bleeding. I'm gonna have one hell of a bruise tomorrow, but other than that...I'm fine.”

  “Stop saying the word ‘fine.’”

  “Stop pestering me and I won't have to keep saying it.”

  From my knees, I let out a sigh and glared up at him. Through the darkness, my gray eyes connected with his steel-blue ones. God, he was difficult and annoying. “What were you doing out here in the first place?”

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  “I was going home.” Brushing the grass off my knees, I climbed back to my feet and grabbed my shoes from where I'd hurriedly tossed them aside.

  “Well, I was going home too,” he said, but I got the impression he was lying. His house was at the opposite end of the golf course. If he was really walking home, then he was heading in the wrong direction.

  “Whatever.” I didn't have the energy to play twenty-one questions after a night like tonight. “C'mon, I'll give you a ride back to your house. It's the least I can do for running you over.”

  Shockingly enough, he didn't argue but instead followed behind, climbing into the passenger seat of my stolen golf cart. Then we drove—me sticking to the cart paths this time—in complete silence. Entering the code to his front gate, something I was surprised I still had memorized, we parked at the top of the long driveway. Leo’s house tripled mine in size. Dad, the one and only, had been golfing professionally since the early 90’s. His skills were nowhere near on par with guys like Tiger Woods or Phil Mickelson, but the old man still played halfway decent and had a good chunk of change in the bank to prove it. But Leo's family...their billions put our millions to shame. This house was merely one of the Maddox family's endless supply of vacation homes and its grandiosity lived up to the Maddox name.

  “Look,” I started, “I'm really sorry about hitting you. Trust me, I didn't mean to. I might hate you most of the time, but I would never hurt you on purpose. Be sure to put some ice on your leg when you get inside. And if you decide it's worse than you think, call me.” I sighed at what I was about to say next. “I'll come back and take you to the hospital if you need me to...Leo?”

  Being abnormally quiet, I realized he wasn't listening to me and hadn't moved in the last few minutes. Glancing to my right, half expecting him to be dead from some kind of unknown internal bleeding, I found him fast asleep at my side. His head rested on the seat cushion and his body slumped like a noodle, and it surprised me how relaxed and young he looked while he slept. Not blind to the male species, even I had to admit Leo Maddox was a handsome specimen. His pale eyes and light skin made for a dramatic contrast against that thick, black hair of his. Not to mention the way confidence radiated off him. He always faced life like a charging bull and I guess some people might find that quality undeniably sexy. But I never let myself notice such things about Leo since he was so vile and all, so I poked him in the ribs to wake him up.

  “Leo. You're home.”

  Struggling to return to consciousness while mumbling a bunch of mumbo-jumbo, he then proceeded to fall straight out of the golf cart onto the cement. Despite seeming pretty put together after I ran him over, his earlier alcohol consumption must have finally caught up with him because he wasn't okay now. Mentally groaning, I jumped out of my seat and hurried around to help him. Letting him grab my arm and using all the strength I could muster, I pulled him to his feet. He held on to me as we walked inside his house. I ignored his continuous incoherent rambling because, at this point, my patience was running on empty. Stumbling through the foyer, up the grand staircase, and down the second floor hall, I managed to get Leo to his bedroom.

  It had been years since I'd stepped foot in this room. Not stopping to look around or taking a single moment to reminisce, I led Leo over and up onto his four-poster bed. The moment his face hit the comforter, he fell back asleep. Maggie, the nice sister, might have taken the time to help him out of his shoes or his jacket when he pulled this kind of drunk shit on her, but not me—I was no saint. I left him there on his stomach, satisfied that if he threw up he wouldn't choke, and headed back downstairs.

  With one foot out the front door, the guilt set in and I realized I couldn't just leave. What if his leg was worse than he let on? What if he woke up and needed to go to the doctor? I knew he would never call me or anyone for help—he was just too stubborn for that.

  So very, very reluctantly, I marched back upstairs and dared another peek in Leo’s room, where I found him in the exact spot I left him a moment ago. I stood in the doorway, debating what to do. Part of me wanted to get the hell out of his house as fast as possible. The other part wanted to yank off his pants and check to make sure his leg really was okay. I settled on option three—staying the night down the hall in one of his many guest bedrooms. If something happened, at least I'd be close.

  THE NEXT MORNING I woke to sunlight streaming across my face and it took a moment to realize where I was. In my clothes from last night's party, I lay curled up in one of the Maddox's fancy guest bedrooms. Lace, pink flowers, and frou-frou fluff surrounded me, threatening to eat me alive. Pushing aside the heaps of lush covers, I stumbled out of the death-trap of a bed. The room, decorated head-to-toe in floral wallpaper, probably belonged to Leo's 90-year-old great-grandmother, Bunny. Talk about gaudy and hideous—kind of like the woman.

  Tiptoeing out into the hallway, clutching my shoes and purse, I found the house more motionless than a ghost town. Everything was immaculately clean so it was obvious that maids visited, but if I had to guess, I'd say Leo was the last of the Maddox family who still bothered residing here for any length of time. Maybe it was his loyalty to my sister that kept him coming back each summer.
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br />   As I approached Leo's bedroom, I noticed that his door wasn't ajar like I'd left it. It was completely closed now so I stood there for a moment, listening for sounds on the other side… nothing. I’m sure it was ridiculous, but I still felt some strange need to check on him. Blame it on my guilt over nearly turning him into road-kill. As quietly as possible so I wouldn't wake him, I turned the handle and slowly pushed open the door. And nothing on God's good green earth could have prepared me for what I found waiting on the other side.

  Leo's buck-naked ass.

  Okay, so at some point in the night he must have woken up, undressed, and fallen back to sleep on top of the covers. His clothes were scattered across the room, and Leo, with his face buried deep into a pillow, now wore nothing except his birthday suit. The worst part of this entire experience: I couldn't look away. My eyes, which were probably popping from my skull like a cartoon character, were unavoidably glued to that ass. Admittedly, I was inexperienced in the whole ass-gazing department, but even my unschooled eyes knew a good thing when they saw one.

  Who knew that buried under all those designer suits and Oxford shirts was one gorgeous body? Lean and tall, Leo had just the right amount of muscle in all the right places. But the biggest surprise of all, and something I never would have expected, was a giant tattoo that covered most of his shoulders and a large portion of his back. Angel wings. They were beautiful, intricate, and both intense and dark, all at once. I tried to decide if the wings contradicted or complemented Leo's character. Maybe the tattoo artist should have given him a devil's tail instead.

  “Hello, Miss Maggie,” came a sudden voice from behind me. “This is a surprise.”

  Damn my luck to hell! All the blood in my body rushed straight to my cheeks. I was caught lingering in the door frame, trapped in the debacle of trying to force my eyes off Leo's body, when someone just happened to sneak up on me. A small gasp involuntarily left my lips as I whipped around. A woman slightly taller than me, in her mid-twenties, with soft curls and a curious smile stood watching me. Elegant to the nines, she wore a pencil skirt and a silk blouse, while I sported yesterday's clothes and reeked of guilt.

  “He's sleeping,” I whispered, not knowing if she was family, an employee, or a girlfriend. It didn't matter. I only hoped like hell she wouldn't wake Leo. And her name mistake was a blessing. When she reported back to Leo, as I’m sure she would, he'd think Maggie had been here. Hopefully, he would never know I'd stuck around just to stare at his naked ass.

  “I gotta go,” I told the woman. “Nice seeing you.” But before I could make my getaway, a different voice stopped me.

  “Regina, that's not Maggie. That's Clara. Could you please give us a minute?”

  The sound of Leo's scratchy, I-had-razorblades-to-drink-last-night voice came from somewhere behind me. My heart spiraled downward into my stomach. This could not be happening to me. Please God, let me melt into the walls and disappear.

  Regina smiled politely, nodded, and walked away. I wanted to call her back, terrified to be left alone with Leo. Mentally flipping myself the bird for not leaving last night when I had the chance, I sucked up whatever courage I could and turned around to face him.

  Leo just stood there and smiled, which was a pretty unexpected reaction out of him since the guy never smiled. I half expected to find him naked all over again, but he'd covered up with some jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He looked so...normal.

  “What are you still doing here?” he asked, his voice full of amusement and maybe a little anger.

  I tried to look anywhere other than directly at him. “I stayed last night—in your Grandma Bunny's room, I think—just to make sure you weren't gonna die or anything.”

  “Aww,” he mocked. “Who knew you cared for me, killer? That's sweet.”

  On that note... “Since you're alive and obviously fine, I'll just let myself out.” I turned, ready to bolt.

  “Clara, wait.”

  Something in his voice kept me from running off. Desperation, maybe. Looking back at him, I finally let my gaze drift up to meet his eyes. They were bluer than I'd ever noticed before and full of sincerity. For what reason, it's hard to say, but I couldn't help it when this strange little warmth spread over my chest. I'd never looked at Leo and saw anything more than a mean, spoiled brat. Whatever feeling this was, it scared the shit of me. I had to get out of here…and fast. But before I had the chance to run like hell, Regina returned.

  “Mr. Maddox. Miss Clara. I don't mean to keep interrupting, but Mr. Maddox, you're way behind schedule. The plane was scheduled to leave at ten. Should I cancel the first meeting? We could try to postpone, but that might be tricky.”

  “What time is it?” Leo asked, finally looking at the woman who was speaking.

  “Almost eleven.”

  “Dammit. Okay then...don't cancel or postpone anything—not yet. Have Jeremy get ready to fly and I'll be downstairs in ten. Everything else is in order, I assume?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thanks, Regina,” he said, effectively dismissing her.

  When the woman disappeared down the hall, Leo didn't move or rush to get ready, but just stood there, studying me. His closeness felt unnerving. Never a problem before, but I suddenly had no clue how to be normal around him.

  “Want to go to New York with me?”

  My jaw hit the floor. “What?”

  He sighed and rubbed one hand over the back of his neck. Was he nervous? No, Leo didn't get nervous. “You heard me. I'm leaving in ten minutes, so you can come or not. But I think you should come. You look like hell and I’ll bet you could use the break and the distance from Blue Creek. We've recently refurbished the Maddox Hotel in Manhattan. The big reopening is this weekend. I have tons of work and won't have a minute of free time for myself. But if you wanted...you could fly up there in the jet with me, stay in one of the executive suites, do whatever, and then come back with me early Monday morning. Are you supposed to be working for your dad this weekend?”

  After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I realized his offer wasn't that crazy horrible. Steph, my best friend from Virginia Tech, had landed an internship at a publishing company in NYC for the summer. Spending a weekend with her sounded pretty awesome. And yes, I was supposed to start working at the country club this weekend, but nothing hinged on that. If I wanted, I could easily get out of it. The only problem with Leo's offer was that it was Leo who was offering it.

  The strange alien that had replaced Leo Maddox stepped backward. “I need to take a quick shower. The car's in the driveway, waiting to take me to the local airstrip where my jet is. If you want to come, then be in that car in ten minutes. Bye, Clara.”

  He started to disappear into his bathroom, but turned around to say one last thing to me.

  “I think you should come.”

  CHAPTER 5

  MAGGIE

  Leo wasn’t answering his phone. Ducking in the stock room at the clubhouse restaurant for some much needed privacy, I tried to call him for the fourth time today. Still no answer. Giving up for the moment, I slipped my iPhone into my server apron and made my way back into the kitchen. It wasn't like Leo to ignore my phone calls, but these days he worked so much that maybe something had come up. Work or no work, he'd still been pretty drunk last night. I'd seen him manage just fine under worse conditions, but if he didn't call or text me back soon, I was going to start worrying. Maybe I'd swing by his house after work, just to be certain everything was fine.

  Standing on my tiptoes, I leaned over the steel countertop, trying to get a good look at one of the cooks. “Carlos, how much longer on table twenty-three? The lady's claiming she has low blood sugar. Can you rush that order, please?” I winked at Carlos, letting him know I was only half-serious. The lady in question—a regular whose name I could never remember—always claimed low blood sugar. I knew better though. Some of the club members were always trying to get special treatment and she was a classic example.

  I picked up a towel, wiping
the already spotless countertop. On a Saturday at noon the restaurant should have been packed, but it wasn't. Normally, I didn't mind being here—busy or slow—but I was supposed to be off work today, and I'd been planning to play a round of golf to clear my head. Golf always relaxed me. Except Clara had called in and, like a sucker, I'd agreed to come in her place. The general manager, Anita—the same Anita who told me about Dean and all his glory—told me that my sister had developed a mysterious case of food poisoning. Unfortunately, I couldn't confirm or deny that claim—my twin never came home last night. More than likely, she was probably shacked up with Andrew somewhere and didn't feel like coming in to work. But being the “good sister,” I'd smiled and lied to Anita earlier, pretending Clara's story was true.

  I needed a distraction to somehow forget last night ever happened, but it was difficult when the embarrassing events kept running through my head on repeat. The world's slowest day ever wasn't helping. One thing’s for sure, I despised Robby Harvey (or Dean, or whoever the heck he was) for playing me like a fool.

  It had been six years since our parents were married. Six years since Monica, the gold-digging daddy-stealer, came crashing into the picture. The woman had been awful, snobby, and made entirely of plastic, and luckily was only part of our lives for three short months. But her son...he'd been everything she wasn't. At seventeen, Robby probably should have been obsessed with cars, girls, and sex. But instead, he was kind and friendly when so many others weren't. Back then Robby had been too skinny, way shorter, with glasses and a very bad hippie-style haircut. His looks never mattered though because when he smiled and listened, he easily made two very different fifteen-year-old girls fall head over heels. The summer he'd lived with us had been the best of my life...until it wasn't.

  “Order up,” Carlos yelled. He tossed two hot plates of food up into the window. “That lady has blood sugar problems every Saturday. She should drink some orange juice.”

  “I know, right?” I said in response, forcing myself to stop thinking of Robby. “Maybe I'll suggest it when I go out there.”