Free He Belongs With Me by Sarah Darlington Page A

breath, his words hot against my hair as he moved past me.
    Rolling my eyes, I sat down. Not because I wanted to, but because everyone was making such a big-damn deal over a stupid seat. “Do you have to pick a fight every night of the week?”
    Looking down at me now, his face softened almost into a smile. “No, Sunday's are my day off.”
    The bartender lingered. “Oh, you're here with her? Sorry, man. I just never would have put the two of you together.”
    “What that hell is that supposed to mean?” Leo asked, immediately back to being defensive.
    “Looks can be deceiving,” I said. My words were meant for the bartender, but I didn't take my eyes off Leo as I said them. I'm not sure if I meant him or me or both of us, but I held onto his gaze until he stopped acting like a dick and calmed down. The bartender left us alone after that, but I didn't want to chance Leo getting into it with him again. “I saw some empty tables in the back. Come with me.”
    Without protest, Leo followed me. The deeper into the bar we went, the dimmer the lights were and the louder the music played. We entered into a semi-empty room with a pool table and a decidedly more intimate feel. The air conditioning was on full blast and I was happy I'd worn my new leather jacket. I sat in the first open seat I saw and Leo sat across from me, the table keeping us a safe distance apart.
    “So.” He reached out, fingering a strand of my hair for a moment before letting it fall back into place. “Purple…interesting.”
    “Fine, let's hear it,” I said. Crossing my arms over my chest, I prepared for his worst. “Whatever carefully constructed cut-down you have for me, just say it now and get it over with.”
    “I don't have anything to say. Not this time.”
    I let my arms unfold. “Well, that's a first.”
    Steph came up to us with a tray full of drinks. I was wondering how long it would take her to notice that Leo was here with me. The two had never been officially introduced so I said, “Leo, this is Stephany. Steph, Leonardo Mad—”
    “Leonardo is my grandfather's name. Nobody calls me Leonardo,” he said, cutting me off. “Besides, I've already met Stephany….twice. Once, freshman year. And she came with you to the Masters Tournament, April before last. Your memory worries me, Clara.”
    “No, you didn't even go with us to the Masters that year.” Thinking back on it, I vaguely remembered seeing Leo there. Had I introduced them? Was he keeping track of the number of times he met Steph or was he keeping tabs on me? “Okay, maybe you were at the Masters. But when did you meet freshman year?”
    “We ran into each other at an apartment party in The Village. You must remember. I certainly couldn’t forget the time I nearly fell to my death.”
    I remembered now.
    I was out with Steph and a few other girls from my dorm at some random party in an apartment complex in Blacksburg. The party was pretty average—dancing, drinking, jam packed, seconds away from getting a noise violation from the cops. Exhausted and sweaty from too much grinding with random dudes, Steph and I stepped outside to cool off, only to run into Leo.
    The first-level apartment had a small balcony and there he was sitting on the railing. Alone. The muffled sound of music still beat in my ears as I watched him suck a long, slow drag out of a cigarette. Then he held the smoke in his lungs for several heartbeats before blowing it out into the cold air.
    Gross. I couldn't hold back from sharing my hatred for his habit. “That's crazy-disgusting even for you, Leo. I'm sure you can think of more creative ways to kill yourself!”
    “Clara?” he asked, his glassy eyes moving from the night sky to me. Probably never expecting me of all people to sneak up on him, Leo’s cigarette fumbled in his hand and then fell into his lap. “Shit,” he cursed. His balance faltered and he fell backward off the railing onto the cement below. It must have hurt like a bitch.