Very Bad Things
Page 66

I opened the lid and inside was a pair of vintage-style, amber-colored boots made of distressed sharkskin. I stroked my hands across the surface, tracing my fingers over the delicately stitched blue angel wings with a red heart in the center. I pulled a small note out of the box, unfolded it, and read aloud, “For Nora, who flies with her own wings.”
He’d left it unsigned.
“How did he know what size?” I mused.
“Leo? He called me, and I told him.”
“I thought you didn’t know who sent them?”
She flicked a towel at me. “I didn’t know it was boots in there, silly. Plus, it was weeks ago when he asked about your size.”
She gave me a considering look. “Those are expensive boots. Is there something going on between you two?”
“He got me these because of a bet. And no, there’s nothing going on between us. We’re just friends,” I said.
I kicked off my flip-flops and put the boots on. They slid on perfectly. “I’m wearing these all day.”
She smiled at me.
I gathered up the packing material, took it out back to the dumpster, and then carried the boot box up to my room for safe keeping.
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.”