Very Bad Things
Page 58
Sebastian shrugged. “Her parents aren’t helping her.”
“Hello, right here,” I muttered.
Sebastian ignored me. “She could work the afternoon shift, and then use the gym to take a shower ’cause she doesn’t have a real bathroom at Portia’s. And, dude, the room where she sleeps is tiny,” he finished with a dramatic shake of his head.
I gasped aloud at his blatant lie. Yeah, it was a small room, but he hadn’t been up there.
“Sebastian—” I started.
“You know you need the money, Nora,” Sebastian said.
I paused, knowing he was right. Who knew what expenses I’d have this year. What if my car broke down? What if something happened to Aunt Portia? I had to be more responsible and focus on providing for myself. Plus, I still hadn’t heard back from my dad about my winnings.
I nodded uncertainly, not sure what I was agreeing to.
“Done,” Leo said. “You can start whenever you’re ready since we’re already getting membership requests and phone calls. It’d be great if you could man the front desk.”
He seemed to freeze as he waited for my reply, and I wondered if he was anxious about me working here. Did he think it was a bad idea?
It would be hard to be around Leo. How would I react the next time I saw him with Tiffani?
“Great, I’ll do it,” I said quickly before I thought too long and changed my mind.
Leo smiled. “If that’s settled, then let’s practice.”
He nodded at me and strummed the first chords of “Girl on Fire,” and I joined in with the piano, immediately becoming immersed in the sound as Vixen tapped in with a gentle drum beat. It was a slow song, almost liquid like, with its smooth music and Sebastian’s gentle vocals. As he sang about how the girl burns like fire and takes on the world and triumphs, I wanted to be that girl. I would be that girl. When Sebastian got to the chorus, Leo’s deep voice sang back up, and after a moment, even though my voice was awful, I did too. You know those people that think they can sing, but really can’t? Well, that’s not me. I knew I couldn’t sing worth crap, but I played on and sang anyway.
After we’d played it a few more times, the others went to get drinks. Teddy and I stayed behind and ran through the keys a bit more. Fifteen minutes later, he had the notes down. When he played it back for me, it wasn’t perfect or exactly from the music sheet, but it sounded incredible. Whatever little discrepancies there were, he made up for it by adding his own style to it.
“Teddy, you’re one amazing dude, you know that?”
He stared at the wall. “So are you. You’re amazing, but not a dude.”
I laughed out loud. “Was that a joke?”
He smiled shyly. “Yeah, how was it?”
“Awesome.”
“You can’t make someone love you.”
–Nora Blakely
AFTER VIXEN’S PARENTS picked her up and Teddy left with his sister, Sebastian asked me to stay for dinner. I’d had plans to eat a sandwich and soup at Aunt Portia’s, so I called her and told her I was eating with Sebastian. She was relieved, I think, because it gave her reason to go ahead and head off home. I knew she loved me and wanted to help me, but I hated to disrupt her life.
It might be a little weird to hang out with Leo, but I was adamant about getting over him. Plus, things seemed to have smoothed over a bit at practice. He’d offered me the job, and my gut sensed he genuinely wanted to help me.
Was it possible for us to be friends?
I think we had to try if I wanted to hang out with Sebastian.
Because I’d gotten sweaty playing piano, I took a quick shower first at the gym and then walked back over to my attic space. I changed into a pair of jeans and a halter-style red shirt that was part of some new clothes Aunt Portia and I had gotten over the weekend. It felt good to wear something I’d picked out. I put my hair up in a high ponytail, slipped on some leopard print ballet flats and headed out the door. Mila called on the way over to the gym to say that Sebastian had invited her, too.
When I walked back in the loft, Sebastian was nowhere to be seen, but Leo was pacing around the kitchen, getting ready to cook. He’d taken a shower, and his blond hair was still damp and curling around his ears. He wore track pants that hung low on his hips and a Club Vita muscle shirt that showed the definition in his chest. The long body of his dragon was visible, and I wanted to stare at it, but I tore my eyes away. Some of the tension between us seemed to have lessened, and I didn’t want to bring it back.
“You’re not going to hit me with that are you?” I asked him ruefully, eyeing a pan he’d pulled out of the cabinet.
“Only if you refuse to help me cook my famous spaghetti sauce,” he said with a hesitant grin.
He waved me over. “Come on and help me cook.” His eyes flicked down the hall. “Sebastian’s in the shower anyway.”
I walked over to the counter where he’d set out items to make a red sauce. “Homemade, huh?”
He nodded.
I picked up the sugar he’d set out. “Sugar in spaghetti?”
“Everything needs a little sweet in it,” he said, staring at my mouth.
“I’ve never had homemade,” I said.
“How does your mom make hers?” he asked me, starting to chop the tomatoes. He slid the oregano over to me and handed me a small cutting board and a paring knife. “Here, be useful.”
I chopped. “My mom doesn’t cook. Now, if you asked her to organize a charity dinner for five hundred people, she’d do that in a snap.”
“Hello, right here,” I muttered.
Sebastian ignored me. “She could work the afternoon shift, and then use the gym to take a shower ’cause she doesn’t have a real bathroom at Portia’s. And, dude, the room where she sleeps is tiny,” he finished with a dramatic shake of his head.
I gasped aloud at his blatant lie. Yeah, it was a small room, but he hadn’t been up there.
“Sebastian—” I started.
“You know you need the money, Nora,” Sebastian said.
I paused, knowing he was right. Who knew what expenses I’d have this year. What if my car broke down? What if something happened to Aunt Portia? I had to be more responsible and focus on providing for myself. Plus, I still hadn’t heard back from my dad about my winnings.
I nodded uncertainly, not sure what I was agreeing to.
“Done,” Leo said. “You can start whenever you’re ready since we’re already getting membership requests and phone calls. It’d be great if you could man the front desk.”
He seemed to freeze as he waited for my reply, and I wondered if he was anxious about me working here. Did he think it was a bad idea?
It would be hard to be around Leo. How would I react the next time I saw him with Tiffani?
“Great, I’ll do it,” I said quickly before I thought too long and changed my mind.
Leo smiled. “If that’s settled, then let’s practice.”
He nodded at me and strummed the first chords of “Girl on Fire,” and I joined in with the piano, immediately becoming immersed in the sound as Vixen tapped in with a gentle drum beat. It was a slow song, almost liquid like, with its smooth music and Sebastian’s gentle vocals. As he sang about how the girl burns like fire and takes on the world and triumphs, I wanted to be that girl. I would be that girl. When Sebastian got to the chorus, Leo’s deep voice sang back up, and after a moment, even though my voice was awful, I did too. You know those people that think they can sing, but really can’t? Well, that’s not me. I knew I couldn’t sing worth crap, but I played on and sang anyway.
After we’d played it a few more times, the others went to get drinks. Teddy and I stayed behind and ran through the keys a bit more. Fifteen minutes later, he had the notes down. When he played it back for me, it wasn’t perfect or exactly from the music sheet, but it sounded incredible. Whatever little discrepancies there were, he made up for it by adding his own style to it.
“Teddy, you’re one amazing dude, you know that?”
He stared at the wall. “So are you. You’re amazing, but not a dude.”
I laughed out loud. “Was that a joke?”
He smiled shyly. “Yeah, how was it?”
“Awesome.”
“You can’t make someone love you.”
–Nora Blakely
AFTER VIXEN’S PARENTS picked her up and Teddy left with his sister, Sebastian asked me to stay for dinner. I’d had plans to eat a sandwich and soup at Aunt Portia’s, so I called her and told her I was eating with Sebastian. She was relieved, I think, because it gave her reason to go ahead and head off home. I knew she loved me and wanted to help me, but I hated to disrupt her life.
It might be a little weird to hang out with Leo, but I was adamant about getting over him. Plus, things seemed to have smoothed over a bit at practice. He’d offered me the job, and my gut sensed he genuinely wanted to help me.
Was it possible for us to be friends?
I think we had to try if I wanted to hang out with Sebastian.
Because I’d gotten sweaty playing piano, I took a quick shower first at the gym and then walked back over to my attic space. I changed into a pair of jeans and a halter-style red shirt that was part of some new clothes Aunt Portia and I had gotten over the weekend. It felt good to wear something I’d picked out. I put my hair up in a high ponytail, slipped on some leopard print ballet flats and headed out the door. Mila called on the way over to the gym to say that Sebastian had invited her, too.
When I walked back in the loft, Sebastian was nowhere to be seen, but Leo was pacing around the kitchen, getting ready to cook. He’d taken a shower, and his blond hair was still damp and curling around his ears. He wore track pants that hung low on his hips and a Club Vita muscle shirt that showed the definition in his chest. The long body of his dragon was visible, and I wanted to stare at it, but I tore my eyes away. Some of the tension between us seemed to have lessened, and I didn’t want to bring it back.
“You’re not going to hit me with that are you?” I asked him ruefully, eyeing a pan he’d pulled out of the cabinet.
“Only if you refuse to help me cook my famous spaghetti sauce,” he said with a hesitant grin.
He waved me over. “Come on and help me cook.” His eyes flicked down the hall. “Sebastian’s in the shower anyway.”
I walked over to the counter where he’d set out items to make a red sauce. “Homemade, huh?”
He nodded.
I picked up the sugar he’d set out. “Sugar in spaghetti?”
“Everything needs a little sweet in it,” he said, staring at my mouth.
“I’ve never had homemade,” I said.
“How does your mom make hers?” he asked me, starting to chop the tomatoes. He slid the oregano over to me and handed me a small cutting board and a paring knife. “Here, be useful.”
I chopped. “My mom doesn’t cook. Now, if you asked her to organize a charity dinner for five hundred people, she’d do that in a snap.”
