Very Bad Things

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

  “Did you hear something?”

  I nodded. “I think I heard Nora yell out.”

  “Yeah, it sounded freaky whatever it . . .” A long wail interrupted him. “What the hell?” he said, looking at me with wide eyes.

  “Must be a bad dream,” I said. “I had them after mom and dad died.”

  “Yeah?”

  I shrugged. “It passed after a few months.” It took two years.

  Sebastian listened outside her door for a minute with a concerned look. He might act cocky sometimes, but he was a softie. “Hey, I think she might be crying. Should I go talk to her?” He shot me a quick look. “Unless you want to?”

  I opened my mouth to tell him he could, but stopped. I wanted to check on her myself. “No, you get some rest. I’ll handle it.”

  When Nora didn’t answer my knock, I entered the dark room and walked over to the bed where she was lying on her side facing me, her legs drawn up into a ball. Her hands covered her face, and she muttered incoherently.

  I sat down on the bed and shook her shoulder.

  She flinched away from me. “Stop! Get away from me! I hate you!” she cried out.

  I reared back, surprised by the vehemence in her tone, wondering who she was dreaming about. “Nora, it’s time to wake-up,” I said using a quiet tone.

  I kept saying her name until she stirred on the bed and blinked her eyes open. When she saw me, she scrambled away to huddle on the other side.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed hard, shivering in spite of the warm room. “I woke you up.”

  “Not a big deal. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  She looked away, letting her tangled hair cover her face.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Her head jerked up. “No.”

  “Do you want me to leave and let you get some sleep?”

  She shook her head and asked nervously, “Did I say anything?”

  “Nothing I could really understand.”

  “Did I hit you?” she asked in a rush.

  “No, but you were mad as hell at someone.”

  She nodded. “My dreams . . . sometimes I hit. It’s a bitch at a sleepover,” she said, laughing a little. It sounded forced.

  “Yeah? Guess it could be worse. When Sebastian was around ten, he would sleepwalk and do the funniest things. Well, I thought they were, but he’d be embarrassed,” I said with a little smile.

  “Like what?”

  “I’d hear him rattling around the house at night and get up and go look for him. Most times, I’d find him sitting naked on the kitchen floor eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He loved those things. The naked part . . . well, that I can’t explain.” I chuckled. “So see? It could be worse.”

  “That’s a good story,” she said, gazing up at me with hesitant eyes, almost as if she were shy, not anything like the girl who’d stripped.

  Without thinking it through, I said, “Tomorrow I’m cooking breakfast, and I’d like for you to hang around and eat. We can talk about payment for the Escalade.”

  She gave me a surprised look. “You really don’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll talk more tomorrow,” I said, getting up from the bed to leave, but her voice stopped me. “Leo, I know I don’t deserve your help, but will you . . . will you stay for a while? If you talk to me for a bit, I think I can sleep.” Looking embarrassed, she glanced down again. Yeah, the drunken girl from the bathroom had vanished.

  I battled with myself, because I wanted to stay with her, but my head knew it wasn’t a good idea. Feeling like it was a huge mistake, but unable to stop myself, I lay down beside her on top of the covers, careful to keep our bodies from touching.

  She grasped my hand and intertwined our fingers, and my first reaction was to pull back, but I didn’t. I stared at our hands and, fuck, I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d held a girl’s hand. Maybe high school?

  “Tell me another happy story,” she said, her lips softly parted, like she couldn’t wait.

  “Why don’t we share stories? I told you one, so it’s your turn now.”

  “You don’t want to hear mine. They all suck.”

  I raised my brows. “Come on, a girl like you who has everything? There has to be a couple.”

  She tilted her head, like she was considering one. “Okay, but you can’t laugh at how stupid it is,” she warned me. And I think she was kinda teasing me.

  I shrugged. “I’ll do my best.”

  She said, “When I was fourteen, my parents decided I was overweight and had an eating disorder. So, that summer they sent me off to this camp for screwed up kids with rich parents. It was this super pretentious finishing school for fat girls. Don’t get me wrong, being called fat wasn’t fun, but it was in Paris, France, the most beautiful place in the world with its art museums and amazing architecture. I was sent there for eight precious weeks.” She sighed dreamily, like she was remembering something good. “Sometimes I’d sneak off to this place called Café Bonaparte to eat these hot, buttery croissants. And people watch, of course. It’s kind of a quirk of mine,” she said, sneaking a little glance.

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  She smiled. “Your turn.”

  I hesitated, surprised that I wanted to tell her about my parents. I’m not the kind of guy who just opens up to girls, especially one I barely knew. “You were right about my parents,” I told her anyway. “They’re dead, killed in a carjacking right outside our house. We didn’t live in the best neighborhood. They were shot point blank in the head by a druggie looking to fund his next fix. So at eighteen, I got a kid, a house, and an old gym. Shit that had taken my parents a lifetime to accumulate.” I sighed. “Sorry, guess I forgot we were supposed to tell happy stories.”

  “You loved them,” she said with a bit of what sounded like wonder in her voice.

  “Yeah. We never had much, but . . . yeah,” I said, picking at the blue bedding. “My dad taught me to play guitar, but after they died, I gave up being a musician.”

  “Because of Sebastian?”

  “Yeah. The road’s no place for a kid. Sebastian’s all I got now.”

  “You were practically a kid yourself,” she said, squeezing our still clasped hands. “Do you miss music?”

  I nodded. “We had a band in LA, and I started one here, too. But this gym was my dad’s dream and now it’s mine. It does well and I like it, but music is my first love.”

  We faced each other on our pillows. “Sebastian’s lucky to have you,” she said, her green eyes searching my face. I gazed back, and I think for a second, my heart may have skipped a beat. She was fucking beautiful. I’d been dead wrong at the open house when I’d thought she wasn’t. Her beauty was real and fresh, not manufactured by tanning beds or a plastic surgeon like some of the girls I’d dated. Still dated.

  A lock of her sun-bleached hair fell over her eyes, and I reached over and smoothed it out of her face, not wanting to stop looking into her glittering eyes. I let my hand drift down her cheek, and my fingers didn’t want to leave her skin. As my hand fell away, I caught the scent of peaches, and it smelled good and sweet. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning in and inhaling deeper. God, I loved peaches. The sticky juice, the tart taste, the firm texture against my tongue.

  Fuck. This was so wrong.

  I lay back down and blew out a deep breath that I think I’d been holding since the first moment I’d realized who she was outside.

  She sighed. “Leo, I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. For everything.”

  “Even the strip tease?” I joked.

  She nodded.

  “Was that the first time you’ve ever, you know, stripped for a guy?” I said. “I mean, shit, never mind. That’s none of my business.”

  “I’ve never done anything like that in my whole life. You were the first,” she whispered.

  And I sucked in a
sharp breath, feeling the blood rush to my groin at those words. It was wrong, but I wanted to be her fucking first in everything. I moved a bit further from her, until I was practically on the edge of the bed.

  “That’s not really you is it?” I finally said, getting myself under control.

  “I don’t know who I am anymore,” she said with a sad smile.

  “Tell me about your family.”

  “Sometimes I dream my family is dead,” she said, “and it’s not a nightmare.”

  “What happened to you?” I said, remembering her mother.

  She drew up, like she was protecting herself. “I think it’s your turn to tell me a story, Leo.”

  “I know you’re hiding something,” I whispered, squeezing her hand. “You said everyone has secrets. What are you hiding?”

  Her face hardened. “Nothing.”

  I wanted to question her more. I wanted to know what made her tick, why she was scared of her parents, and why she’d written that list, but I sensed she’d had enough for one night. So I ended up telling her the story of how my mom had played on a quiz show in LA and won a family trip to England. No one knew that story but me and Sebastian, yet I found myself describing all the touristy places we’d visited and how Stonehenge had been my favorite. I told her how awed I’d been at those vast chunks of rock that have stood for thousands of years and how no one knows how they got there or what they were used for. I chuckled as I told her how, when we’d gotten back, Mom had insisted we call her Mum. So, of course, we did.

  After a while, I glanced over, and she was asleep. I didn’t know much about her, but I did know one thing: she was the first girl to ever show up uninvited at my house and get an invitation to spend the night, much less to have breakfast in the morning.

  MY EYES POPPED opened automatically at 6:00 a.m. on the dot, the time I normally take a quick run in the park. Thankfully, I woke up completely clothed, on top of the covers, and still a respectable distance from Nora. There had been no kissing, no cuddling, no sex. Nothing. Nada. Just a bit of hand holding, that’s all.

  But, here’s the rub. I’ve never in my life slept the entire night with a girl. It was an unwritten rule to be gone before sunrise. So yeah, this waking up next to someone was strange.

  She was still asleep, so I propped up on my elbow, leaned over, and inhaled her scent one more time, committing it to memory. I truly intended to leave, but I found myself staring at her, seeing how her dark lashes contrasted with her hair and skin. And her lips. They were full and erotic looking, and I wanted to— I jerked back away from her. I had to get out of here before I did something I regretted. Giving her one last lingering look, I told myself this would be the last time I saw Nora in a bed. Ever.

  I disentangled our hands, severing our connection, and got out of bed.

  I made my escape just as Sebastian came out of his room, dressed in running clothes.

  His eyes grew, and he shook his head. “What the fuck, Leo? Did checking on her take all night? She’s not one of your sluts.”

  I sighed. “Relax. It’s not what you think.”

  “Then what is it?” he said, cocking his head.

  “We started talking and I . . . I guess, I fell asleep. Nothing happened.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Huh, guess that’s a first for you.”

  I shrugged and made to go into my bedroom when he touched my arm to get my attention. “Hey, man. Don’t be hurting her, okay. Don’t add to her problems.”

  “I’m trying not to,” I said curtly, striding into my room.

  When I was alone, I sat down on my bed, wondering when my little brother had gotten so perceptive.

  BY 9:00 a.m. THE smells of bacon and coffee were in the air when she wandered into the kitchen wearing baggy blue sweat pants and Sebastian’s old Dallas Cowboys shirt that somehow managed to cling to her breasts, despite being too big for her. It irked me seeing her in his clothes.

  She yawned and then glanced at me sheepishly, and I wanted to ask her how she’d slept, but instead I poured her a cup of coffee and avoided her eyes.

  “Cream and sugar?” I asked her.

  She smiled shyly and nodded.

  “Both are on the island,” I said, handing her the cup, her fingers brushing mine as she took it. She poured in a liberal dose of cream and sugar and drank. After a few sips she spoke, her voice husky with sleep, “Thanks for staying with me.”

  Sebastian saved me from replying when he walked in. “Breakfast time,” he called out with a grin. He stopped and took in Nora, and I imagined his eyes were admiring the same view I had tried not to. “Hey, there. Not sure if you remember, but I’m Sebastian, Leo’s brother,” he said, gesturing at himself. I couldn’t help but notice that he’d showered, shaved, and put on nice clothes. Not his usual weekend lounging clothes. Was he trying to impress her?

  She blushed. “I’m sorry for imposing on you guys this morning.”

  “Pretty girl like you? You’re always welcome,” he said, moving in to stand next to her.

  She drank her coffee, peering at him over the rim, and it made me remember how she’d analyzed me. I wondered what observations she’d come to about Sebastian. She’d probably like him. All the girls did. And he already thought she was hot. It pissed me off to imagine them being attracted to each other. Surprised at the feeling, I paused right in the middle of flipping the French toast.

  What the fuck? Was I jealous of my brother?

  After breakfast was ready, I stayed silent while Sebastian jumped into being the perfect host, making her a plate piled high with toast, strawberries, and bacon. He gave her silverware and a napkin and then poured her orange juice. He even pulled the stool out for her.

  I’d never seen him so solicitous.

  Finally, he stopped hovering and sat down beside her. As he ate, he kept shooting her little smirks, and she’d grin back. When she ran out of bacon, he jumped up to get her more. And as he sat back down, I noticed that he scooted his seat a bit closer to hers. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear, and I slammed my coffee down hard, splashing most of it all over the bar.

  “Okay, bro?” he asked, his eyebrow cocked.

  My mouth tightened. “Fine. Just fine,” I said, getting up to grab some paper towels. I wiped up the mess, angry at myself for losing control. For wanting what I couldn’t have.

  “I like your tattoos,” she said after I sat back down, her eyes flicking over me. “I didn’t see this one last night,” she said, pointing at the writing I had wrapped around my left wrist. “Rachel and Joel,” she read quietly. “Your parents’ names, right?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  She bit her lip and gave me a cute smile. “Can I see the dragon on your chest again? It’s incredible.”

  I faltered, thinking how ridiculous it’d be to take my tank off in the kitchen, but I couldn’t say no to her. At that moment, I would have done anything to make her smile like that again.

  “I’ve got more on my back,” I said, taking off my tank and showing her where I had Sebastian’s name and birth date written on my left shoulder blade. “Sebastian Tyler Tate,” she recited.

  When I faced her, she studied the dragon that lay across my heart, making my pulse kick up.

  “He’s gorgeous,” she said, staring at the large tat for so long I began to feel hot. She finally looked up at me and said, “His eyes are blue just like yours. And he’s fierce and breathing fire, yet he doesn’t seem scary to me.”

  I nodded, pleased at her words. “Yeah, he’s an eastern dragon, the ones with the snake-like bodies. His colors symbolize courage and protection of loved ones.”

  “I like it,” she murmured, and I pictured her touching it, caressing the green scales, licking the red flames . . .

  “You interested in getting a tat?” Sebastian asked her, pulling her attention away from me and yanking me back to the present.

  She shrugged. “My friend Mila and I are going to check out this new place a couple of blocks over
today. You can come with if you want,” she said, looking at both of us.

  I shook my head and took a deep breath. Here it was. My chance to make sure she knew where I stood with her. “Nope, got a date with someone at the park,” I said, picking my shirt back up and slipping it on.

  Sebastian scowled. “Tiffany?”

  “Just eat, Sebastian.”

  He huffed and murmured out something, but I couldn’t understand it, which was probably just as well. Tiffany was not his favorite person.

  “Who’s Tiffany?” Nora asked.

  “A girl I’m seeing,” I told her, holding her gaze and keeping my face cool. I had to set her straight, and if exaggerating about my relationship with Tiffany was the way to do it, then I would.

  She stared down at her plate. “Oh.”

  She seemed disappointed, but it had to be done. But then I remembered her list where she’d written about having meaningless sex. Was she really going to screw any guy she could? And now that I had told her no, would she go for Sebastian? I glared at them both, imagining her taking her clothes off for him.

  “Tiffany’s a real sweetheart,” Sebastian said with a sarcastic smirk. “Not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hey, she is pretty.”

  Nora picked at her fingernails and shrugged. “Pretty’s good. Smart isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be.”

  “Let me see your fingers,” Sebastian said, reaching out and taking her hand.

  “Why?” she asked, letting him take it.

  “The BA brochure said you’d taken piano for years. I can tell. You’ve got the calluses to prove it. So maybe you could play for us sometime?” he said.

  She shrugged.

  “Sebastian, can you start clearing the table, please?” I said, giving him a hard look as he still held her hand. The same one I’d held last night.

  “In a minute, bro,” he dismissed me, not looking away from Nora. Speaking to her, he said, “Our family has always been into music . . .” He paused. “Our parents are dead.”