Very Bad Things

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  I walked over to the gym, and the decorators let me in. The opening was only a few days away, and they were there putting on the finishing touches. I didn’t see Sebastian or Leo, and I thought about heading up to the loft, but images of Tiffani coming out of Leo’s room stopped me. I sat down at the desk and sent Sebastian a text, but when he still hadn’t responded after a few minutes, I decided to check the music room.

  I heard guitar music as I walked down the hall. I peeked in and saw Leo. He didn’t see me, and since I’d been avoiding looking at him lately, I took the time to stare at him greedily.

  He sat on a stiff folding chair with his head bent low over his guitar as he hesitantly strummed some chords that didn’t sound like anything we’d been practicing. I saw he hadn’t shaved yet, and my eyes caressed the dark shadow that covered his jaw. He looked pensive, and I wondered what he was thinking about so heavily.

  Balancing his guitar on his legs, he reached over for a pen and paper he had on the end table next to him. He jotted down something and then picked up the guitar again. He strummed more chords, and the melody he sang was soft, making me strain to hear the words:

  Girl, you show up uninvited,

  You’re crazy good, beautiful.

  Baby, I tried, but I can’t fight it.

  Girl, you got some bad secrets to keep,

  You’re a chaos I want, it’s so deep.

  Baby, use your wings to fly, fly, fly.

  Why do you want me in your life?

  Could you love me, love me, love me . . .

  He suddenly stopped and murmured to himself, working to find the right chord.

  I eased back out and propped myself against the wall in the hall, feeling one part thrilled he’d written a song for me and the other part pissed because he was so damn hardheaded about me.

  Why wouldn’t he let me in?

  I took a deep breath and walked back in the room.

  “Hello, Leo? Are you in here?” I called out nonchalantly, knocking on the wall.

  “Hey, come on in,” he said as he put down his guitar and picked up his notes, stuffing them inside a notebook.

  “Are you practicing?”

  “Nah, just messing around with a song,” he said, unfurling himself from his seat and stretching his long body. He sat back down on the couch with a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

  I walked closer, relishing the pounding of my heels against the floor. “New song?”

  “Nothing any good,” he said, flicking his eyes at my boots.

  “Sounded good to me,” I said, arching my brows at him. “And I think you wrote it about me. Crazy girl with secrets shows up uninvited? Yeah, that’s me.”

  He tugged on his ear and looked away, not admitting to anything.

  “You’re ignoring me now?”

  He smirked. “Kinda hard to do when you’re standing there right in front of me.”

  I twisted my lips, recalling an article I’d read. One that reminded me of him. “Little side story here, Leo, but it’s important, so pay attention,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Most people think of rats as greedy and mean, and maybe they are to a certain extent. But here’s the interesting part: scientists have proven rats are intelligent, socially benevolent creatures who even laugh when you tickle them. Amazing to think about one actually giggling, huh?” I shrugged. “Of course, these are lab rats we’re talking about, not those feral things you see in a dumpster.”

  I pointed my finger at him. “But, they’re also stubborn and inflexible, sometimes refusing to run a maze or eat if they don’t get their way.”

  He blinked. “Good God, woman, are you comparing me to a rat?”

  “It’s better than a donkey, which is the stereotypical choice for a stubborn ass, but anyway, yes, my point is to be so damn smart, you can be stupid when it comes to admitting how you feel. All you do is avoid.”

  He shook his head, wearing a bemused expression. “Fuck, I love how you think.”

  My heart jumped as I stared at him. He didn’t give a shit about how weird I was. He accepted me.

  His eyes skimmed my body. “I like seeing you in boots, Buttercup.”

  “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

  “I owed you a pair,” he shrugged. “Boots look hot on you.”

  I cocked my head, wondering where this was going.

  He ran his hands through his hair furiously, and I knew what that meant. He was randy as hell but was gearing up to shove me away.

  I wasn’t going to let him do it. Not today.

  “I feel sexy as fuck in these boots,” I murmured. “As soon as I slipped them on, I thought about you.”

  He got tense and turned to pick his guitar up, pretending like I hadn’t just put it all out there.

  I went over to the door, locked it, and went back to stand in front of him, my body vibrating with need.

  “Why did you lock the door?” he asked.

  I swallowed. “Spread your legs.”

  He startled and fumbled as he dropped his guitar on the floor. “Nora?”

  “Just shut up and do it, okay. Do this one thing for me.” I clenched my nervous hands. I didn’t know what I was doing here, but my gut was telling me to try . . . one more time.

  He shifted uncomfortably on the couch and after a minute, he spread his legs a little. Not enough.

  “Don’t be a pussy, Leo,” I said. “I need more.”

  He exhaled a deep breath. “What are you doing? You know how you affect me,” he said huskily.

  He sat there for a few moments, and I didn’t think he was going to move, but he did. He spread them wide, his black athletic shorts stretching easily, giving him plenty of room to get comfortable. I sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of his long muscular legs, opened just for me. His body was tense and tight, his cock hard and peeking out of his shorts. He wanted me. Obviously. That had never been a problem between us.

  I dropped my purse to the ground unceremoniously and took the straight chair he’d been sitting in and pulled it to me, easing down and not taking my eyes off him.

  He watched me and his hands twitched, like he wanted to grab me. “Nora . . .”

  “Do you want me?” I asked, interrupting, needing to hear him say it.

  He tossed his head back against the couch and said in a dazed voice, “Always when I look at you, I get hard. Harder than I’ve ever been. All for you.”

  “Take your shirt off,” I said, dying to trace his dragon with my eyes.

  He shot me a heavy-lidded look, pulled off his tank and leaned back, showing me his washboard abs and defined chest. My mouth dried.

  He arched a brow at my perusal. “You’re really into this stripping thing, aren’t you?”

  “Take your shorts off and stroke yourself,” I said.

  His head jerked up.

  “Teach me how you’d want me to do it. I need to know what feels good to you,” I said.

  “You don’t know what you’re fucking with, Nora,” he warned softly.

  “Show me.”

  With burning eyes, he pushed his shorts down and off until I could see all of him. Splayed out, he was mouth-watering, showing me his massive size, his thickness. I licked my lips at the sight and squirmed, feeling the warmth settle in my body and tingle up my spine.

  “This what you want to see?” he asked me gruffly, one hand resting at the base as it stood at attention, the other cupping his balls.

  I nodded, speechless. I’d been in control at the beginning of this, but now, I was lost.

  “Fuck, you light me up,” he said in a low voice as he gripped himself and started pumping himself from top to bottom with a sure grasp. I gasped, fixated by the motion, mesmerized by his hands as he stroked up and down, sometimes ghosting his fingers over the head and lightly twisting. I groaned, unable to hold back.

  He flicked his eyes at me. “I think you like to talk dirty, Nora.”

  I nodded, thinking of all the times I’d imagined him just like t
his, hard for me.

  “This is for you. I’m thinking about fucking you,” he said, arching his back and shuddering. His dragon slithered on his chest as he worked, stroking himself faster and faster. “Watch me,” he said, his eyes devouring me. “I love your eyes on me.”

  I trembled, lost in desire for him. “I want more than my eyes on you. I want to put my tongue on you and lick you all over. I want to taste your skin. I want to suck you until you come for me,” I said.

  “Fuck,” he moaned and pumped himself harder until his muscular forearms rippled from the exertion. I gazed intently, consumed by how primitive it was, how arousing it was to watch him masturbate.

  “Nora, you’re so good, so beautiful,” he whispered, his hands sweeping up to rub the pre-cum over the head and over the rest of his length. He jerked and stroked harder, his arms straining and his legs stiff, his opal eyes never once letting go of mine.

  My body clenched with need. I wanted him desperately. Like I’d never wanted anything in my whole life. “Leo,” I said beseechingly, closing my eyes. “Love me.”

  He tossed his head back and hissed. “Say my name like that again.”

  “Leo, I want you to come for me,” I panted.

  “If I come . . . this was be over . . . don’t wanna stop,” he said, staring steadily at me. “Never want to stop looking at you. I want to fuck you, dammit,” he cried out in frustration.

  “Tell me . . . tell me how much you want me, Leo,” I breathed out.

  “I want to lay you down and slip deep inside you. I want to find every secret part of you with my lips, my tongue, my hands. I want you to ride me while I watch. I want to hear our skin slapping together. I want to wake up next to you in the morning and do it all over again. Need you so much. You’re all I want. I want you, want you, want you,” he chanted as he picked up his pace, his hands working in time to his words.

  I got on my knees in front of him, my body not my own. “Give me your hand,” I whispered.

  He stopped immediately, abandoning the attention to his erection to place his hand in mine. Tears threatened as I placed them together palm to palm. I gazed at him, my eyes begging him to see me, to see how much I loved him, how I knew he was my one and only. Holding his stare, I removed my hand and licked his, running my tongue over every finger, every line, every crease on his open palm. Then I sucked each digit in my mouth, letting my teeth nibble on the roots of them. My tongue worshipped him.

  “Nora, baby, yes,” he growled, his other hand stroking my hair back.

  I gave them one last suck and kissed his palm reverently. “Let me see you come, Leo.”

  He grasped his length and went back to work, the wetness making his strokes faster and hotter than ever. Uninhibited like this, he looked delicious, the need to come evident on his face, his eyes wild with desire. He moaned, his hips pumping back and forth with his hands.

  He stiffened. “Nora!” he yelled out as he came, throwing his head back, his blond hair falling into his eyes, his muscled body straining forward and undulating in a beautiful symphony of ecstasy.

  I wanted to weep.

  I wanted him to love me.

  Long moments passed and he recovered slowly, opening his eyes and blinking up at me. “What was that?” he asked weakly.

  I picked up my purse and stood up on wobbly legs. “That was a lesson in clarity, Leo,” I said in a small voice. “I have a date tonight with a guy I’ve fucked before, a guy I once had real feelings for. Think about what just happened in here between us and how non-epic it was. Think about me doing that with someone else. Think how good we could have been.”

  I got halfway to the door and without turning around said, “It’s not Finn I’m seeing tonight. Finn’s my half-brother, and he . . . raped me when I was fourteen,” I said, choking on the words.

  Me and my boots staggered out the door.

  “I’ve got nothing.”

  –Leo Tate

  LYING DECIMATED ON the couch, I watched her walk out the door, shutting it carefully behind her. Once my brain starting working again, and I pieced together the puzzle Nora had revealed, fury exploded like a bomb in my head and obscenities blasted from my mouth. I leaped off the couch, kicked over the chairs and lifted up the table where’d I’d been working and threw it across the room. It slammed into the concrete wall with a harsh clatter and fell to the floor, one of the legs dangling crazily. Madness swept through me, and I lost control. Grunting, I wrenched the leg off and beat it against the table, over and over and over until my hellish rage slowly morphed into horrified grief for her. I stopped and stared sightlessly down at the mangled wood. My Nora. She was so brave, so strong and had lived in hell.

  I’d known she’d had secrets, but I’d never imagined this. I thought about when we’d first met, and how I’d misjudged her. How I’d thought she was a spoiled rich girl. I couldn’t have been further from the truth.

  I hung my head.

  The sun had set, and the room had grown dark by the time Sebastian came in from football and found me. I don’t know how much time had passed. All of my thoughts centered on Nora; the rest of the world had become nonexistent. I felt numb everywhere except my chest. It hurt so fucking bad, and I knew it was aching for her.

  Sebastian flipped the light on and looked around with wide eyes. “What the hell happened in here?” he said, whistling at the scattered chairs and wrecked table.

  I sat there crouched on the floor, my head leaning back against the wall. “Did you know?” I asked him quietly.

  He stiffened for a moment and then eased down beside me on the floor, a somber look on his face.

  “Only because I eavesdropped on her and her dad,” he said. “I don’t think she’d willingly tell anyone.”

  I took a shuddering breath. “Tell me everything.”

  He did, explaining how he’d been in the shop when her father had come in and how he’d been worried about her so he’d listened to their conversation. When he told me the details, I gripped the table leg that was still in my hand and prayed for control.

  When he’d finished, I didn’t say anything, because I had no words.

  I had no Nora.

  “Truth is beautiful.”

  –Nora Blakely

  LATELY, BECAUSE OF Tiffani’s threats, I’d begun to ask myself what would be the absolute most terrible thing that could happen if I told Leo my secret. The answer? He might be sickened by my imperfection and never look me in the eye again. But, if he did, then he wasn’t the person my heart thought he was. He was much, much less. Yet, because he was my soulmate, I finally believed he’d never blame me or hate me for my shame. So, yeah, telling him today had been a relief. Truth can be awful and even excruciating, but once it’s released, it’s like a bird that’s been caged too long who finally flies to freedom. I felt a little like that. Free.

  Letting it all go, I focused on getting ready for my date.

  I’d gone to my house earlier, and Dad had helped me load my car with my sewing machine but not many clothes would fit. So I’d left the designer dresses and shoes in favor of jeans and shirts I’d need for school. I didn’t have much money for a date outfit, so Mila came by and dropped off a pink bridesmaid’s dress she said I could have. She knew I needed the distraction of sewing.

  I got to work, chopping off the length and sleeves and turning the sweetheart bodice into a camisole style with spaghetti straps. With some of the fabric I’d cut off and some lace, I made a fun belt to tie around my waist and a headband for my straightened hair. I slipped the dress on and deliberated on my shoes, my eyes caressing the new boots but deciding on some brown wedges I’d gotten on a recent trip to the mall. They weren’t Jimmy Choos, but I’d paid for them with my own money.

  And when I was dressed and looked at the girl in the mirror, she seemed better than the day before.

  THAT NIGHT DREW took me to a waterfront Tex-Mex restaurant on Lake Ray Hubbard that had stunning views of the water and sailboats. The restaurant was on th
e fifteenth floor of a beautiful stone resort, and we sat by a big picture window to gaze out.

  Over a meal of spicy fish and shrimp tacos, we talked and renewed our friendship. It was apparent we had a lot in common.

  “Are you going to UT next fall?” he asked me.

  I finished my mouthful of food. “Probably. I thought I wanted to go to Princeton and be a lawyer like everyone else in my family. But now that I know I’m not going, it’s a relief to know I don’t have to live up to everyone’s expectations.” I shrugged. “And UT has a great art and fashion department.”

  He grinned. “UT could be good if we’re there together. I’ll be your academic nemesis for four more years.”

  “Huh. You know you’ll be calling me every night to help you with Cal.”

  “One can only hope,” he murmured, giving me a heated glance.

  I stared down at my food, thinking a little about Leo and his song.

  Drew cleared his throat. “You know, you’re not fooling me. You’ve got something on your mind.”

  I blushed. “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head at me with a wry grin. “You’ve looked out that window a lot tonight. And you’ve got that faraway look in your eyes you get after you’ve read some of that sappy poetry in class.” He pointed his fork at me and said, “I’ve been in almost every class with you since seventh grade. I know you.”

  I sat my fork down and studied him. His wavy brown hair was a tad overlong, but I liked it. He’d worn snug jeans, a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of Converse on his big feet. My eyes lingered over his lean but muscled chest. He was a handsome guy. Lots of girls at BA wanted him. Could I fall for him if I tried? Did I want to?

  “Let me ask you something,” I said.

  “Shoot.”

  “When I was in seventh grade, do you remember what I looked like? Chubby with silver braces?” I asked.