BAD WICKED TWISTED: A Briarcrest Academy Box Set (17 page)

I wondered if she’d ever made love in a movie theater. It was practically empty tonight. We could move to the back row, and she could sit in my lap while we tore into each other. I could wrap my hands in her long red hair and give her the ride of her life. No one would ever know. Unless she was a screamer.
Dammit.
I was losing my mind over this chick.

This had to stop.

AFTER THE MOVIE, we walked back to the lobby, and while she went to the restroom, my mind was on her list again. I wondered who she was having sex with since I’d turned her down. I shouldn’t care, but I did.

She was probably fucking Cuba already. Or Sebastain. Or both.

I stood there, waiting for her to come out. Should I stay with Nora tonight, maybe talk to her about her list, or should I go be with Tiffany? But, I was lying to myself because I wanted more from Nora than talking. I wanted to do things with her I shouldn’t and being alone with her was dangerous territory.

Tiffany, on the other hand, was older, available, and knew we were short-term. She was the obvious choice. Yet, why did I feel like if I chose Tiffany, then I’d be giving up and missing out on a possibility that could be incredible? That, maybe, if I chose to stay with Nora, my life’s direction might swivel and change into something entirely different? Something I’d never known.

She came out of the restroom. And, damn, she looked spectacular, making me forget my own name as she strolled across that lobby in those red heels and tight as hell skirt. She shot me that sexy smile, and I got an instant hard-on. And yeah, seeing her walk toward
me
was like hearing the sweetest damn rock ballad ever, playing loud and clear in my head. You know the ones, songs about love and how you never believed it existed, until you met her; songs about how you’ve been alone for what seems like forever, but she’s gonna make it alright; songs about how you can’t breathe without her. Yeah. It was like that.

And then it happened. Something big shifted inside me . . . inside my heart.

Fuck. Me.

“Sorrow is sometimes what awakens us.”

–
Nora Blakely

I OPENED THE door to go back out to the lobby. Sitting beside him for two hours, smelling him, feeling the warmth of his arm close to mine, had made me hungry for more. We’d had fun together, bantering back and forth, laughing and joking during the movie. I felt an intense connection with him, and I think it had all started the moment I’d seen him at the open house. Even while Mother had been ranting at me, I’d clung to him, recognizing that maybe my heart could be his. And maybe it was ridiculous, but tonight I’d felt like he was right there with me, wanting the same thing.

I walked toward him and smiled, feeling like everything was going to be okay if we were together. He watched me the entire way, his piercing pale eyes roaming over my body like he wanted to consume me. Heat coiled deep inside me, my body yearning for his.

“Good movie. What now?” I said with a bright smile, knowing I sounded eager, but I didn’t seem to be able to help it.

He didn’t speak. He just stared at me with this torn expression on this face, like he was wrestling internally with some serious conflict. I’d only been gone for ten minutes, tops. What had happened?

“Leo?” I said nervously after several long seconds of silence.

He shook his head and stared over my shoulder, avoiding my eyes; he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. And whatever we’d shared tonight, I felt it slipping slowly away from me. I felt him withdrawing, could see the distance growing in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I implored, louder than I should have. But I didn’t care if people stared. All I cared about was wiping that awful, divided look off Leo’s face. “Tell me,” I said, feeling smothered by his silence. I grasped his hands, interlacing our fingers.

He blinked down at our joined hands and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing painfully. He lifted our hands up and kissed mine reverently, like he adored me, like he wanted me. But then I saw what was written plainly on his face. Regret. Soul-wrenching, heart-stopping regret.
No, please don’t do this
, I begged in my head, refusing to accept what he was going to do. I didn’t want to let him go.

Not before we’d even begun.

He squeezed my hands, like he needed my touch, like he could have held on to them forever. But his actions didn’t match his words. “Nora. Whatever this is between us, it can’t be. I have to let you go,” he choked out, pulling his hands from mine. And it felt like he’d punched me in the gut, the force of it knocking me back a few steps.

“No, please,” I said to him, shaking my head, knowing he was throwing away something wonderful, something I’d only just discovered.

He looked pained as he cupped my face with his hands and kissed me tenderly on the forehead. “Happy birthday, Buttercup,” he whispered. Then he turned his face into a mask and walked out of that theater and out my life.

I went home alone that night and drank my birthday vodka until I didn’t hurt anymore, until I didn’t remember that Leo had deserted me.

A FEW DAYS later, the first day of class at Briarcrest arrived. Since I’d spent the night with Aunt Portia, I’d gotten up early to drive in from downtown and help her at the shop. So while she baked, I made the coffee, set up the cream and sugar station, and helped with the early morning rush. At seven, I used her upstairs attic room to dress for school, choosing a pair of green skinny jeans and a white peasant blouse with blue flowers embroidered on it. I straightened my hair until it hung in burgundy ribbons down my back. I slid on my Tom Ford sunglasses and looked at myself in the mirror, practicing fake smiles.

Ready for BA! Go, Tigers!
Yeah, right.

Located right outside of Highland Park, BA rested on twenty acres and was a feast of academics, superb athletics, and extracurricular offerings. With the majority of its students matriculating into Ivy League colleges, it was hailed as one of the best private schools in the country.

I whipped my white Volvo into the parking lot, next to a Mercedes and an Aston Martin. With a mission in mind, I hopped out of my car and walked through the grand stone entrance of the main school building, not stopping to say hi to anyone. Nope, I went straight to the counselor’s office. I’d had an epiphany since Leo left me at the movies. I realized if I really wanted to crawl out of this dark hole I’d dug for myself years ago, then I’d need to start with big changes, like my future. I needed to wipe out everything from my old life.

When Mr. Beasley saw me, his eyes grew wide, and he blanched, no doubt remembering the
incident
. He told me to have a seat while he shut the door.

“What can I help you with, Nora?” he asked, eyeing my red hair. I was tempted to grin maniacally at him just to freak him out, but he wasn’t the reason I was messed up.

“I need to know what credits I need to graduate,” I said, getting down to business. “Considering that I take a full load every year, I know I have
more
than enough already, but I’m sure there are some classes this year I need for state requirements.”

He tapped a pen against his desk. “May I ask why?”

“No.” How on earth did I explain to this man that I needed to break away from this place as fast as I could?

His forehead creased. “Is this something you need to talk about, my dear?”

“Just tell me what classes I need,” I said, beating my fingers against the arms of the leather chair, worried about the scowl on his face. “I’ve been a model student here since seventh grade. I made this school look good when I won the spelling bee, and my debate team has given this school numerous trophies. I think you owe me here.” I sighed, hating to act like a rich brat, but if I had to, I would. “And if you won’t let me do this, then I’ll drop out of BA and take my tuition with me. I’ll enroll in another private school and make them look good.”

This, of course, was a bald-faced lie. If he didn’t let me do this, then I was screwed. No way would Mother pay for me to go somewhere else. Dad’s entire family had graduated from this school, which meant I had to as well. If he didn’t do this, then I’d have to drop out and get my GED.

He settled back in his leather chair. “You know this will knock you out of the running for Valedictorian, and I know your parents will be disappointed if you don’t graduate with highest honors.” He gave me a pointed look. “If you do this, then Drew Mansfield will be valedictorian.”

“Drew can have it,” I said.

“What about scholarships? You have the full ride to UT, but you might decide to go somewhere else. You’d talked about Princeton,” he said, and I felt myself getting antsy. I didn’t want him asking too many questions.

I shifted in my seat. “Things have changed. I’ve changed.”

Mr. Beasley tapped at his computer, and my thoughts drifted a bit, getting muddled as I thought of Drew Mansfield, my academic nemesis and former crush who’d stabbed me in the heart. Our GPA’s had been in a race against each other since we were freshmen, and we’d traded off awards and medals every year. One year I’d get the Calculus award and the next year, he would. One year he’d win the Dallas Area History Contest, and the next year, I would. He was the captain of the debate team whereas I was co-captain. I was editor of the yearbook and he was co-editor. Not only was he intelligent, but he also played basketball and lacrosse for BA. Basically, he was the male version of me, only athletic.

We’d also had a fling. It’d started this past January on a debate trip we took together to New York. We’d ditched our chaperones on the first day and roamed around Central Park, with Drew walking beside me. When the other debate members weren’t paying attention, he’d hold my hand or whisper in my ear how beautiful I was. I’d wanted him since seventh grade, and I think he’d wanted me too, but he’d also had a serious girlfriend since sophomore year.

But, they’d broken up a week before the trip.

The next day at the competition, Drew’s team swept the debate, soundly trouncing my team and the other schools’, winning a first place ribbon. With his height and commanding voice, he’d been riveting to watch and, boy, I was riveted. I thought I was in love.