Very Wicked Things

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  Not to my taste at all. I liked her hair just brown.

  Tall black boots encased her legs. Not leather, but some kind of cheap, shiny material, probably pleather or vinyl. Her heels were about three inches high, which baffled me. When you’re five-seven, you didn’t need the extra pumping up, but she did it anyway, making her tower over all the other girls and most guys. And didn’t those shoes kill her ballerina feet?

  I didn’t get why she wore them.

  But maybe I did.

  By magazine standards, she would never be called beautiful, yet there was something edgy about her that sucked me in. Perhaps her angular and lean body, with arms cut just enough to get your attention, yet soft enough to be feminine. Perhaps her mouth. Always painted red and pouty, it had a full upper lip and an extra full lower one, and the way it curved when she smiled made you feel like it was only for you. Her mouth never curved for me.

  What? Get a grip, I told myself. I sounded ridiculous.

  Back in August, when I’d first realized we were locker neighbors, I should’ve gone straight to the front office and demanded a new locker. They would have given me one if I’d pushed. My name carried weight around here, especially since my mother had been on the school board for years. Yeah. Maybe I’d go today and claim irreconcilable differences. Ha. I don’t know why I hadn’t already. I had to get away from her. Having her so close to me every day was a disaster waiting to happen.

  Dropping my book, I expelled an exasperated breath and bent over to pick it up.

  And because I’d already deemed the day as off, my eyes betrayed me, getting tangled up on the way her boots wrapped snuggly around her calves. I mean, her body was hot, a true work of art.

  And, I’d blame the boots later for what happened next.

  You see, something fractured in my head, making me almost, I don’t know, deranged as I took her in. Three hundred and something days ago, I’d had my hands all over that perfect ass of hers. I’d been hard for her constantly.

  And yet, the night I’d taken her virginity had been our last night together.

  Because I’d kicked her to the curb. Hard.

  And, I’d made a promise to myself a year ago when we broke up that she was off limits, and that I’d do whatever it took to stay away from her. Sometimes that meant kissing girls right in front of her, and it sure as hell meant not letting our eyes meet.

  Plainly stated, I just wanted to forget about her and move the fuck on.

  Yeah, then why did I now find myself still kneeling on the ground, my eyes eating her up, devouring what I’d denied them for an entire year? I had to shake my head at my stupidity, recalling another time I’d been on my knees for her, when I’d begged her to go out with me.

  And now, like it was in slow motion and acted of its own accord, my wayward hand reached out and stroked her leg above her boot. Her skin was cool and wet from the rain, but that didn’t stop me.

  And because she froze, I lingered, drifting up to her upper thigh to just under the hemline of her skirt. My hand slowly inched its way closer to her underwear. Maybe, just maybe, I could pull her to me and put my mouth—she flinched away from me. Chest heaving, my hand dropped. I paused, trying to get myself under control with all the blood rushing to my crotch.

  Already on the road to hell, I rose up off the ground and let my gaze keep on its path of perfect destruction, blinking at the sliver of bare midriff where a dandelion charm dangled from her belly button piercing. I’d had my tongue there, I thought. Lighting fingers flashed and jerked down her shirt, hiding my view. Not caring, my eyes continued their journey, past her swiftly rising chest, over her plump lips and straight into glittering eyes. Eyes the color of an angry sea, her gaze trapped mine, reminding me what a bastard I was.

  I’d come this far, so I didn’t stop, watching her jawline tighten and her nose flare. Disgust radiated off her face. She’d never forgive me for my sins. Not a girl like her. She had hope for the future; she believed in shit like following your dreams and finding love.

  She was the complete opposite of me.

  I grew roots in that spot by the lockers, and as people passed, I barely noticed, caught up in the images that flickered through my head like a movie, pictures of us intertwined and naked in my Porsche, pictures of me breaking her heart in the quad.

  Taking a deep breath, I mentally chunked those images in the trash.

  Must ignore her and the sweat that had popped out on my face.

  That period of my life was over.

  Yet, I’m sorry teetered on the edge of my lips, but never spilled out.

  Because if I told her I was sorry, I was inviting her back in.

  I stood there, feeling straight-up stupid, and waited for her to lose her temper and go off on me for touching her. I shouldn’t have done it.

  Did her heart thud as hard as mine?

  Did she ever think about me and wonder what could have been?

  A bell rang, shattering the illusion that we were alone. With a Herculean effort, I broke the connection between our gazes, picked my runaway book off the floor, and turned back to stare into my locker.

  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my heart was pounding.

  After a year of avoiding each other—of me avoiding her—I’d taken a good, long gander at her and survived. Unscathed. See, it hadn’t been bad. She wasn’t all that. Yeah. Carry-on. Find another hot girl. They’re a dime a dozen around here. And hadn’t that been the way I’d dealt with her absence anyway? Hadn’t I screwed every faceless girl I could to forget her?

  Yeah.

  And still she didn’t say a word at our lockers. But why would she? She was done with me.

  Instead, she huffed and slammed hers. I didn’t relax until the sound of her soft footsteps drifted further and further away. She was headed to English Lit class, same as me, although she sat in the front and I sat in the back. I’d sit back there and stare at her back, feeling one part miserable for our past and another part thankful she’d gotten away from me.

  One last furtive glance in her direction, and I saw Spider wrap his arms around her and lean down to give her a peck on the cheek. She stood on her tip toes and kissed him back, laughing at something he said.

  How easily she forgot me.

  It was obvious they were tight because I rarely saw her with any other guys. She’d dated some ballet dude for a while after we’d broken up, but it hadn’t lasted. Spider was her one constant. She’d always claimed they were only friends, but what about now? They talked in the halls, ate lunch together, and I’d heard she spent the night with him sometimes.

  He wasn’t good enough for her. Neither was I.

  His bleached white hair and lean build were in direct contrast to me. He had a reputation as a good guitar player according to Sebastian. So what. I didn’t like him much. No reason, really, or maybe it was the way his eyes shifted to Dovey whenever she walked in a room. He was screamingly obvious he wanted more from her. Were they having sex? My body tightened into a hard ball at that disturbing thought.

  Forget her. You’re a fuck-up, I reminded myself. And fuck-ups don’t get the good girls.

  Emma Easton, head cheerleader and future trophy wife, attached herself to my side like glue. And that’s the type of girl I spent my time with. Superficial and beautiful. Just like me.

  “We need to talk,” she said right off the bat, without even a hello.

  “So talk,” I said, not stopping my stride. I wanted to get to Lit so I could get a seat as far away from Dovey as I could.

  “Not here. Why don’t we go to Portia’s Pastries after school?” She stroked my arm.

  I halted. She’d been acting odd lately, almost as if she wanted more from me. Which was crazy because our hooking up had stopped back in October.

  And I’d made it clear the sex was over. No particular reason. Just didn’t want her getting attached. We’d grown up together and had been friends more than anything. I kinda felt sorry for her because I got how messed up her home l
ife was with a dad who was a famous televangelist. But she’d never be my girlfriend. I didn’t do girlfriends. I didn’t do relationship responsibility. Not since Dovey.

  I tapped my fingers against my jeans. “Spill, Emma. What’s eating you lately?”

  Before she could answer, thunder rumbled and lightning struck in a loud bam! outside the building. “What was that?” she shrieked, sliding in closer to me.

  “A thunderstorm,” I said, pulling away, not in the mood for drama. “Happens all the time, Emma. Nothing to freak out about. Just another day…”

  My voice dropped off, and my stomach sank so fast it made me queasy. I fell back against the locker, my mouth dry as sandpaper.

  Today.

  February 7.

  The day my mother killed herself.

  And somehow I’d forgotten? I shook my head, disgusted with myself.

  “Cuba?” Emma asked. “What’s wrong with you?” She got up in my face, her overpowering perfume making my nausea spike.

  “Nothing. Just tired,” I said. “Give me a minute.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and inhaled sharply, sucking in fresh air as she moved away.

  No wonder I’d been operating in a weird kind of fog. No wonder I’d broken my stand-off and looked at Dovey.

  A long whistle came from my left side. “Cuba, my man,” Sebastian said, slapping me on the back. “You ready for your update on the sweetheart dance?”

  I nodded, ignoring the cement in my stomach. Of course, I didn’t give a shit about the dance, but for him I’d pretend. He’d moved here from Los Angles in August, joined the football team, and we’d promptly become a duo over the past few months.

  The light to my dark.

  And because he was a fun guy, he’d been nominated to head-up the planning committee for the end of the season athletic banquet. He took his job very seriously.

  He broke it down for me, his voice animated. “First off, I got the venue booked at The Dorchester in downtown Dallas. It’s got a fucking giant ballroom. And, I got the Hummer limo you requested, but we gotta find some girls to ride in it. Don’t think that will be a problem though,” he said with a grin, his eyes lingering on Emma.

  She flicked her hair.

  I pushed up off the locker, trying to act normal when I felt anything but. “Did you decide about the band?” He’d been talking about his band, Vital Rejects, but he’d needed to clear it with his brother first.

  “Yep. Vital Rejects is all set to play. It’s going to be on. I can’t wait to do my thing on stage.” His grin faded. “Dude. You look like shit. You good?”

  “Fine,” I said, faking a smile. Lie until it becomes the truth, right?

  He gave me a hard look, like maybe he wanted to ask me more, but Emma took his attention.

  “I wanna hear more about this limo,” she said, fluttering her eyes at me and then at Sebastian. Covering her bases.

  “Me too. I want to ride in the limo,” April Novak squealed, clapping her hands together as she glided up and wrapped her arms around Sebastian’s waist.

  I grimaced. Personally, I didn’t like April. Last year, she’d screwed over Emma by sleeping with Matt, Emma’s ex. While they were still together. And, I didn’t get why her and Emma had remained friends. Weird.

  Now, April had latched onto Sebastian, but the dude was a serious flirt. He didn’t commit to anyone. And April seemed to annoy him sometimes, but he put up with it.

  He winked at both girls. “You babes are at the top of my list.”

  Nora Blakely stopped at our group, and all conversation halted. I noticed Emma glaring at her, but I don’t think Nora cared. Instead, she tossed Sebastian a brown paper bag. “You forgot your lunch, goofball.”

  He tucked the sack under his arm and grinned. “Thanks for grabbing it for me, Mom.”

  Then, they both laughed uproariously while we stood there uncertainly, not sure how to take this pair. They seemed to click, a lot like close siblings. Nora was dating Sebastian’s older brother, Leo. She didn’t care about being in our group or about anything really except Leo. I’d been over there for Christmas because my family was out of town, and I’d gotten an up close and personal look at the couple. They’d been crazy for each other. Giddy because it was their first Christmas, putting a tree up, cooking a big meal. Pretty much waayyy too much PDA going on. Watching them had brought back painful memories of my own good holidays. I tried to not be envious. I think I pulled it off.

  Nora blew Sebastian a kiss, and he pretended to catch it. She laughed and sauntered off while we watched her disappear. Really, she was kinda legendary since word had gotten out that she’d ditched her parents and given up being Valedictorian back in the fall. And then there was the whole fuck you thing at registration. Yeah, I’d tried to hit that at Emma’s back-to-school party back in August, but it had been a no-go. I shrugged. I was glad we hadn’t been together because it made being friends with Sebastian a lot easier.

  Sebastian turned back to me. “So, let’s talk after party.”

  “Sure,” I said, heading to Lit. The girls followed behind as Sebastian filled me in on the deets.

  Matt, Emma’s ex, glared openly at us as we passed. Probably because I’d mowed his ass down hard every chance I could at football practice. I flipped him off. Douche. He may have been the quarterback on our team, but football season was long gone, and I didn’t have to play nice anymore. And hadn’t he treated Emma like shit over and over? April had just been one in a long line of girls he cheated with.

  Honestly, I hadn’t really gotten along with anyone much this year, except Sebastian. My father avoided me; my coaches said I had anger issues; my teachers stayed on me because my grades had dropped; and girls claimed I’d gone over to the dark side—whatever the fuck that meant.

  But wait.

  I hadn’t always been such a jerk. Once, I’d wanted to take the girl of my dreams and make love to her under the stars and moon. Once, I’d wanted to give her every piece of me.

  But now I didn’t want that girl anymore. I didn’t. I couldn’t.

  We walked into a classroom of chaos. Students wandered here and there around the classroom as Weinstein gave instructions on the day’s activity for English Lit. Kind of the hippie type, she wore long skirts and brown Birkenstocks.

  You never knew what kind of crazy she’d come up with in class.

  I liked her.

  Well, I did. “You sit here,” she said, pointing at a desk directly behind Dovey.

  Not happening. Hell no.

  “Why? My seat’s back there.” I pointed to the back of the room, my feet already headed in that direction. One of the senior girls I usually sat with waved at me from her desk, and I shot her a full-on smile. Hold that thought, beautiful.

  I glanced back at Weinstein.

  “Not today. We’re getting in groups and doing an activity. I’m mixing up the seating, and you’re right here.” She put her hand on her hip, emphasizing her authority. “No more back row seats this semester.”

  “Back row hasn’t hurt me yet. I have a B in here.” Barely.

  I poured on the charm, softening my face. “And you know you’re my favorite teacher, Mrs. Weinstein.” No lie.

  She shook her head in bemusement. “You come close, but flattery doesn’t work on a menopausal woman. And your grades could be better, so front row until the end of the semester. Dovey is your partner for the next class project, so sit down and get to know her.”

  I do know her, I wanted to yell out. I fucked her.

  I paced around the aisle, my insides jumpy. Skipping class came to mind.

  I flicked a glance at Dovey’s rigid back, and it cranked my anxiety up higher. Wasn’t it completely illogical to get worked up like this? She was just a girl. Some scholarship chick from Ratcliffe Heights who thought she was better than the rest of us.

  Giving in, I rolled my shoulders and tossed my bag on the desk behind Dovey. She flinched at the sound, but didn’t turn around. Ice would be warmer than her re
ception. Great. First the episode in the hall and now this? Being near her made me nuts. No doubt, I’d be ready for a lobotomy by the time class was over.

  “Where you want me, Mrs. Weinstein? I won’t give you any grief; I like the front row,” Sebastian said, flashing his trademark easy grin. Smooth move. Good luck with that.

  She looked at her list, considering. “April, you sit with Zero back in the back. Sebastian, you and Emma can sit here,” she said pointing to the next row over, directly across from me. Score.

  April flounced off to the back with Zero, giving Sebastian a longing glance as she left. I knew I wouldn’t miss her.

  Sebastian sat down in the adjacent row and we fist-bumped. He had my back.

  A few minutes later, Weinstein set down her clipboard and made an announcement. “Based on the overall scores from your last exam, we’re doing more in-class work with partners. Hopefully, this will get you out of the rut some of you seem to be in for my class. Only half of you scored a passing grade on the Macbeth test.” A few heads nodded, remembering the Scottish dude and his crazy-ass wife. Who knew a damn spot could create so much drama? Oh wait. I did.

  She continued. “Today, your goal is to interview your new study partner. Find out who they are because they’ll be helping you when we study the poem ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’.”

  Groans and sighs came from every direction, but I’d quit listening to their complaining, too focused on the girl in front of me.

  “Okay, let’s begin,” Weinstein said. “Face your partners, please.”

  Students milled around, turning their desks around, and I watched with a dawning sense of dread. I’d have to look at her for an entire hour.

  Dovey stood and maneuvered her desk to face mine, and it made an awful scrapping sound on the tile, making me draw up more. I froze and sucked in, preparing myself. From the moment I’d met her, I’d decided she wasn’t the kind of girl who made a guy catch his breath, yet I always did. Or maybe all males did, and I was just lying to myself. Either way, guys watched her, desired her—that was obvious from the way their heads moved when her body glided by. She didn’t care about them and that was part of her sexy factor. She didn’t put on airs or pretend to have the latest Louis Vuitton bag, yet she carried herself like a rich girl.