Very Bad Things

He shrugged like he’d already forgotten me. “If you change your mind, babe, let me know.”

Sebastian and I walked toward the patio door, and he tried to take my elbow, but I snatched it back. “What’s your deal?” I slurred.

“Cuba was hitting on you, and I didn’t like it.”

“Why? I thought he was your friend?”

“You are, too. Look, he has a bad reputation when it comes to girls. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend, Sebastian. Just a good time. And, I don’t need a guard dog,” I said in a huff.

Outside, I heard someone yelling my name and turned to see a group of senior girls I knew from the yearbook staff. Not seeing Emma or April in their vicinity, I left a sullen Sebastian standing there and walked over.

I joined their group and in fake-girl fashion, they proceeded to tell me how fabulous my hair was and how they adored my dress and shoes. When in reality, they probably thought my dress was hideous and my hair trashy. Every Parkie girl grows up knowing that if you want to fit in, you gotta smile and lie your ass off. Yet the alcohol must have kicked in, because I half-way believed what they said.

One of them asked, “Why did you go off at registration?”

“Oh, you know, I just wanted to be a rebel and rock the system a little,” I replied, pumping my fist in the air. Total lie.

“Well, it made an impression on someone in particular,” she said, cutting her glance toward a group of guys. When I looked confused, she elaborated by whispering to me, “Matt Dawson. I heard him asking around if you were coming tonight.”

I looked back at the guys and, sure enough, BA’s quarterback was staring at me with open admiration as he sauntered in our direction.

“Did he and Emma break up?”

“Yep, right after you told Emma about April which was hilarious, by the way. She wants him back, of course, I mean, who wouldn’t. He is the quarterback.”

Matt strolled with confidence over to us like the player he was, and the closer he got, I could see why all the girls chased him. With those velvety brown eyes and sexy grin, he was a heartbreaker.

“Hey, Nora, you wanna dance?” he said, putting his arm around me. The smell of sweat and alcohol assailed my nose and the word no was on the tip of my tongue, but then I remembered Leo and how he had Tiffany.

“Sure. Come on,” I said, inviting the other girls out with us, not quite ready to be alone with him. I’d just walked away from Cuba. Was I ready to jump right back in?

The DJ was playing some old school Beastie Boys, and we danced on the makeshift dance floor Emma had set up, complete with blinking strobe lights and colored twinkling lights hanging from the trees that surrounded the pool. We stayed out there for almost an hour dancing, and Matt never took his hooded eyes off me. It verged on creepy.

When a slow song finally came on, he grabbed my hips and pulled me close. I wrapped my arms around his neck and saw Sebastian staring at me while he danced with a girl from BA. I forgot my earlier irritation and gave him a cocky grin, waiting on his leer, but he didn’t tease back. He looked at me hard, like he was mad, and then twirled his partner around until his back was to me.

What the hell? Did both of the Tate boys need meds for their mercurial moods?

“Sebastian says you’re in a band with him? Girls in bands are hot,” Matt said in my ear, steering me away from the dance floor and over to a grove of trees near the side of the house. I tried to lead him back to the dance floor, but he stumbled and crushed my toes. I gave in and let him lead.

“Um, I’m not actually in the band. There’s a friend in the band I’m helping learn some new music. That’s all,” I told him absently, looking around the deserted yard, pissed at myself for letting him maneuver me out here. “Hey, don’t you think we should go back to the patio. I can barely hear the music out here.”

He grinned. “I’ll sing for you,” he said and started moaning the words to Marvin Gaye’s song “Let’s Get It On” in my ear. Seriously. Matt was lame.

I rolled my eyes and said the first thing that came to mind. “Aren’t you mad at me for ratting on you about April?”

“No,” he murmured, leaning down to lick a spot near my ear. I stiffened and shifted, trying to avoid him.

The song ended, and I was almost twitching with the need to get away from him. Not only was he coming on too strong, but he reeked of beer.

“Let’s stay here,” he demanded, pushing me up against a tree, making me feel claustrophobic.

“I need another drink first,” I squeaked out, jerking back from him and breathing heavily. A prickle of fear rippled over my body.

He captured my arm and pulled me back, pinning me tighter against the tree. He rocked his hips into mine and leaned down to kiss my neck as I struggled to slide away, but he’d locked his arms, holding me hostage.

“Let me go,” I wheezed, fighting against his restraint, but I wasn’t strong enough. I’d never been strong enough. I twisted in his arms, the effort making me pant. Dark and vicious memories filtered into my head, reminding me how I’d given in before. How no one would ever love me if they knew.

I would die before I let new memories in.

He grinned, ignoring me. “Chill out. I know your type. All nice and quiet, but freaky underneath that up-tight exterior.” He tried to kiss me on the lips, but I spun my face away, and he laughed. “You wanna play hard to get?” he murmured, his hand reaching up to hold my face still.