Riven

by Lissa Del

  “Don’t stop,” I plead, grabbing a fistful of his hair and trying to pull him back to my breast. He issues a low throaty chuckle and resists me, my desperate hauling no match for his quiet strength.

  “Come here,” he pulls me toward him and lifts me in the air, turning a full 180 degrees before depositing me on the arm of the sofa. He lifts first my left leg and then my right, slowly unzipping my boots. Once duly divested, Leo grins, the crooked smile that I already adore. Placing his hands beneath me, he grabs two fistfuls of ass and hoists me up. My legs come up around his waist of their own accord and, despite the gloomy interior of my apartment, he kisses me all the way to my bedroom, without tripping.

  CHAPTER 13

  Jess’s jaw drops when she spots me getting out of Leo’s Porsche in the morning. Conveniently, Leo had an overnight bag in his car – “A bit presumptuous, don’t you think?” I had asked teasingly after the most exciting dual shower I’ve ever experienced – and it seemed only logical that I travel with him to the Institute on Monday morning.

  “What are the chances,” I grumble under my breath as she bears down on me, looking like an anime character on a mission. Jess is never here before me and she never waits outside. I blame her freakish intuition. She knew about the date last night and the fact that I hadn’t called her after to dissect every minute was probably all the proof she needed that I’d finally gotten laid.

  “Well, hello, Sarah,” Jess calls brightly the second she is within earshot – which, by Jessica’s standards, means she is still only halfway across the busy lot. A few curious glances swing my way and I hear Leo laughing from the other side of the car. I had threatened him with his life if he dared open my door for me on campus, although he was welcome to do it anywhere else. “You’re looking awfully perky this morning!” Jess muses. I cringe, but hold my head up high, and finally, to my relief, she reaches us. “Nice to see you, Leo.” Jess grins up at him, her eyebrows waggling, before turning back to me. “I’m taking it your evening went well?”

  “Okay, enough,” I grin, shooting Leo an apologetic look as I lead her away. “I’ll see you later,” I mouth at him and he winks in return.

  “Spill.”

  “Not now, Jess, there’s like a million people here!”

  “Right,” Jess says, as if this has only now occurred to her. “Coffee.”

  We head for the cafeteria. There aren’t any classes today but we’re both up to our necks in work and I’m determined to finish researching the local building codes before my site visit tomorrow. The abandoned warehouse I’ve earmarked is currently being used by teens as an unauthorised party venue, which, according to my research, includes underage drinking, and it has been frequented by several known drug peddlers, making it easy to justify on a moral basis, but there is also town planning to consider. Dianna, while being the most coveted mentor on campus, is also the toughest, and she doesn’t allow us to leave anything to chance.

  The cafeteria is quiet this time of the day but, to Jess’s disgust, her old rival, Samantha Simpson is seated alone at a table by the window.

  “What the hell is she reading? The bloody dictionary?” Jess mock-whispers, catching sight of the enormous textbook open on the table before Samantha. “Why’s she trying to act smart?”

  “She is smart, Jess.”

  Jess gives me an arch look before continuing. “She’s also dumb. God, I don’t know how you deal with having to work with her.”

  “Technically I don’t have to work with her.” Samantha and I share Dianna as a mentor, but we seldom get asked to present in each other’s company. I know it’s only a matter of time, though, before Dianna starts requesting group discussions and getting us to critique one another’s work. I shudder at the thought. As if drawn by my dislike, Samantha glances up, giving us a dirty look.

  “Let’s sit over here,” Jess indicates a table as far from Samantha’s as one can humanly get. I’ve barely pulled my chair out and she is looking up at me expectantly.

  “Okay, so he picked me up at eight,” I begin, but she waves her hands at me in annoyance.

  “I don’t want to hear about that. Forget dinner, the drive, the way he opened your door…”

  “How do you know he opened my door?”

  “He looks the type,” she snaps, impatiently. “Now, did you or did you not have sex last night?”

  “I did,” I nod solemnly. Jess fist-pumps the air as if this is a personal triumph and then poses her next question.

  “And was it or was it not mind-blowing?”

  “It was mind-blowing.”

  “Best you’ve had, right?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I knew it!” she grins. I await the next question but she’s distracted, pulling out her mobile and typing frantically.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m texting Tom. He wanted me to keep him informed.”

  “You’re texting Tom about my sex life?” She glances up at the indignant tone of my voice.

  “What?” she asks, “I’d do the same for you.”

  I open my mouth to protest that I wouldn’t ask her to, but then realise that I would and shut it again. “As you were,” I gesture for her to continue.

  Jess hits send with gusto and then slips the phone back into her bag.

  “That’s all he gets for now,” she says, and then clasps her hands together on the table. “Tell me everything.”

  “I still can’t believe he actually said ‘leave those on’,” Jess says an hour later. We are ensconced in the library, working for the most part, but every now and again she brings up my evening for dissection.

  “I knew I shouldn’t tell you that part.”

  “Why? It’s so freaking Fifty Shades. Did he pull out a riding crop?”

  “No, thank God.”

  “I don’t know, Sarah. I think there’s something to be said for all that kinky fuckery.”

  “Well why don’t you give it a go and let me know?”

  “I might just do that. Did I tell you I got the number of that guy that Tom claims is gay? He’s so not gay, by the way.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “No,” she sounds affronted. “You don’t ask a man who looks like that if he’s gay! Anyway, he’s not, trust me.”

  “He’s totally gay, I took him home on Saturday night,” a voice interrupts. We turn to find Tom stifling a yawn, his phone in his hand. “And if you think that a two-line text is all the information I’m getting about Sarah’s enviable sex life, you need more coffee.”

  “You’re lying,” Jess hisses, “you didn’t take Jackson home last night!”

  “Scouts honour,” Tom holds three fingers up to his forehead, “but, in your defence, Jess, he’s definitely been straight before. The things that man can do with his tongue are definitely new.”

  Catching sight of Jess’s face, my laughter dies on my lips. She actually looks hurt. Is it possible she’s really interested in this guy?

  Tom notices too and he’s taken aback. “Jess?” he asks gently, “are you okay?”

  “Did you really take him home?”

  “No,” Tom shakes his head, “but honey, the man is gay. You need to trust me on this one. Don’t go getting your hopes up.”

  “Too late,” I murmur, seeing the relief wash Jess’s features back into their normal upturned position.

  “We’ll see,” she smiles, and I sense trouble.

  Wanting a change of scenery, Jess, Tom and I bypass the library and head to one of the fifth-year lounges where we work in semi-companionable silence. Jess is acting decidedly chilly toward Tom, no doubt punishing him for his earlier comment, but Tom is so deep in his own project he doesn’t seem to notice. Eventually he snaps his laptop shut and clicks his neck from side to side.

  “I’m done,” he announces, cramming his laptop and a stack of books into his bag. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. Let me know if we’re doing anything exciting.”

  Jess spends another ho
ur working half-heartedly between frequent checks of her phone, and then she also gives up. “Good luck,” she calls as she leaves.

  The sky outside darkens but I haven’t so much as glanced at the window. My shoulders are aching and my vision starts to blur as I sit hunched over my laptop, but I don’t pause to rest. Once I get into a rhythm I find it hard to break away.

  “Hey!” Leo’s voice sounds behind me, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He drops a kiss on my head as easily as if he’s been doing it for years and then flops into the chair beside me, the one Jess vacated earlier. He kisses me again, full on the mouth this time, and I blush, smiling shyly as I rest my head on my hand to look at him.

  “How’s your day been?” I ask.

  “Good, for the most part. I saw your ex in one of my classes.”

  “What?”

  “The lecturer – Allen, right? You used to date?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It’s a small campus.”

  “I guess student-teacher relations are kind of big news.”

  “If I didn’t know before, I certainly would have after today.”

  “How so?”

  “He popped in to speak to Professor Hanson in second period. He shot me daggers the whole time. I don’t think he likes me very much,” Leo pauses to coil one of my curls around his finger, “and I think I know why.”

  “He needs to get over it,” I say. “It’s been two months since I broke it off.”

  “Maybe you’re not that easy to forget,” his finger traces my jawbone and the room seems to shrink to just this desk, these chairs and the two of us. I clear my throat.

  “Why were you looking for me?”

  The crooked smile. “Really? Aren’t I supposed to be giving you a ride home?”

  “Oh my God!” I glance at my watch. Classes ended hours ago. “I’m so sorry!” I slam my laptop shut and get to my feet.

  “Hey,” Leo gets leisurely to his feet. “It’s no sweat. I didn’t have anywhere important to be.”

  “But still, it’s so late. I completely forgot I didn’t bring my car today.”

  “You mean my super fancy Porsche didn’t leave a lasting impression?” He is poking fun at himself as much as he is at me. I like that about him. He’s about as unpretentious as they come.

  “You sure you’re ready to go? I’m happy to hang around, or I can come back and fetch you later if you need to stay?”

  “No, I’m done. I’m starting to see spots.”

  “Shall we then?”

  I check that I haven’t left anything behind before I nod. “Let’s go.”

  In the car, Leo glances sideways at me.

  “What?” I laugh.

  “I just don’t know where I should be going,” he admits. “I mean, I know technically I should be dropping you off and then heading home, but that’s not what I want to do.”

  “Oh really? And what do you want to do?” I emphasise the word with a husky inflection straight out of an X-rated movie.

  “Nice,” Leo approves, grinning. “What I want to do is grab another change of clothes and spend the night with you.”

  “You didn’t get enough the first time?”

  “I didn’t get enough the first three times.”

  I blush, recalling our antics the night before. “Well I’d hate to leave you unsatisfied, so I guess we’re taking a detour.”

  “Really?” I announce twenty minutes later. The building towering above me is a luxury studio apartment block, the kind with a roof terrace and a state of the art fitness centre. Oh, and there’s a doorman. I know this because when we walk into the opulent foyer, I see him sitting behind his big shiny desk.

  “You have a doorman!” I hiss under my breath, as if this is a crime against humanity. Leo doesn’t reply but he greets the man cheerfully. Despite his crooked smile I can see the uncertainty etched on his brow. Only once the elevator doors close with an expensive chime does he respond.

  “Yes, I have a doorman. And a resort-style swimming pool and a theatre room. No, I don’t want to hear your opinion,” he adds as I open my mouth.

  “But… how can you be so… so…” I can’t say rich, I just can’t. Wealthy either. “You know,” I improvise, “and be a student?”

  The elevator opens onto a wide corridor that smells like genuine leather and sandalwood. There are only two doors on this floor.

  “We may as well get this over with,” Leo says, moving toward the door on the left. “I have money. And I’m a student. I make no apologies,” he adds jokingly.

  “How wealthy are you?” I can’t help but ask, and the question sounds disapproving even to my own ears.

  “Not as wealthy as you seem to think.” He opens the door and we step into a very comfortable, but rather sparse apartment. “I’m comfortable,” Leo admits, “but I have to be careful, particularly if I want to spend the next four and half years at Holmes.”

  I can only assume that Leo’s parents must have left him a tidy inheritance, but he doesn’t elaborate.

  “Can I get you something to drink while you wait?” he asks. “I have beer, water and soda. Or,” he turns to a stainless steel wine-rack, on which sits one lonely bottle of red, “I have wine.”

  “A beer will be perfect,” I say, still taking in my surroundings.

  He hands me an opened bottle. “Make yourself comfortable. I won’t be long.”

  Initially, I meander around the living area, examining the surround-sound system and the enormous TV that takes up most of the far wall. The sofa is surprisingly comfortable and oddly feminine, in an off-white fabric that wouldn’t last a day in my apartment – not with Jess’s propensity to slosh red wine around. Even the floor is white, a painted concrete screed which contrasts beautifully with the bare brick walls. There aren’t any photographs on display, but the room is adorned with a few gorgeous pieces of abstract art, painted in vibrant primary colours.

  The door that leads onto the terrace is a full glass-plate concertina, and when I push on it, it slides aside easily. A slight breeze lifts my hair as I step outside. It’s so peaceful up here, removed from the hustle and bustle of the street below. The terrace is bigger than one would expect, with only two wooden loungers and a table between them to take up space. There is an empty glass on the table and a stack of magazines. I flip idly through them – Men’s Health, a travel publication and a medical journal. It’s like the waiting room at my local GP’s office.

  “All set.” Leo’s voice comes from the living room. A moment later he pokes his head out through the door. “There you are.”

  “It’s beautiful out here,” I say.

  “I like it.” The crooked grin. He has a Nike gym bag hanging from his shoulder and he’s changed into a pair of dark denims and a branded white T-shirt. The tan flip-flops on his feet complete the casual look. “You ready to go?” he asks.

  I down my beer. “Ready.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Sex with Leo only gets better, I discover, over the course of the next few weeks. We have officially started “dating” as he calls it, and, insulated in my Leo-love capsule I can overlook the fury in Noah’s eyes every time he sees us together on campus. To be fair, Leo and I rarely see one another during the day and, when we do, there are no obvious public displays of affection but Noah must suspect something is up. He has taken to calling me every few days but I don’t answer, and thankfully he hasn’t popped by my apartment, given that Leo spends almost every night at my place.

  My workload has increased dramatically over the past month. With less than a month until we break for Christmas, Jess’s nightmare has finally come true and Dianna is having Samantha and I present to each other every other week.

  Samantha’s project is a high-end commercial studio complex.

  “Solid and safe,” Dianna remarks in one of our meetings. I don’t know that I would necessarily call that a compliment, but Samantha simpers with gratitude and casts a smug look my way as Dianna pause
s, frowning at my own work in progress.

  “There are still a few holes in your practical,” Dianna tells me. “As I’ve told you from the start, this is a challenging approach you’ve taken. Your design is very good and you certainly have the artistic flair to pull it off, but this could be risky.”

  Samantha is practically orgasming in her seat, but Dianna continues, oblivious.

  “You quote Gehry and Wright as your inspiration?”

  “Yes,” I nod. “The Bilbao and the Guggenheim specifically. I want the building itself to become a piece of art.”

  “Art housing art…” Dianna trails off, thoughtful. “Your approach is very avant-garde, which I personally adore. The problem is that it’s experimental. More to the point, it’s experiential. They are either going to love it or hate it.” By ‘they’ she means the Burke & Duke Selection committee. This is the crux of the matter. Samantha is also applying for the internship and she’s played it safe. I’ve taken a gamble. If the committee experience my project as it is intended to be experienced, I’ll have the internship in the bag. If they don’t like it, Samantha will win simply because I will lose, not because of her project’s merit.

  “I guess I just have to hope they love it,” I say, swallowing down the lump in my throat.

  Dianna doesn’t reply. I know she’s rooting for me, but she would never say so in front of Samantha, who is looking thrilled with the way the conversation is going.

  “Okay,” Dianna claps her hands to her knees. “That’s quite enough for today. Go and enjoy your weekend and I’ll see you both next week.”

  Samantha gathers up her things and sashays to the door, glossy and sleek and dressed to kill, no doubt off to celebrate her weekend. Judging by the lack of dark shadows beneath her eyes, I doubt she’s losing much sleep. The simplicity of her design makes it easier and she is far further ahead than I am.

  I hang back, mulling over the title on the front page of my draft. “Experiential gallery space in a revitalised environment”. The closer I get to completion, the more the self-doubt creeps in. I had been so confident, so cocky, at the beginning of the year. Now, however, I’m starting to wonder if I shouldn’t have played it safe, like Samantha.