Page 60 of The Bad Boy Rule

“Maisie!” I yell as I burst through the front door of our apartment, nearly tripping over the pile of shoes inside.

When I lift my hand in front of me, I note the tremble of my fingers, meaning that an hour later, I’mstillshaking from what just happened.

I squeeze my fist shut and swallow hard. “Maisie, whereare you?”

I almost called her in the Uber on the ride here, but I knew this was a conversation that I had to have face-to-face because I am slightly freaking out.

Okay, that is a lie. I am freaking the fuck out.

Full stop.

“What’s happening?” Maisie says as she appears in front of me, her blonde hair mussed and sleep still heavy in her eyes.She’s wearing an oversized OU Debate Club sweatshirt and fuzzy slippers. “Why are you yel?—”

“I… kissed Saint. In an elevator at the hospital after it broke down. For like… a while,” I blurt out over the remainder of her question. The words rush out of me, and the moment that they do, I feel just a tad bit lighter.

If I’m going to have a freak-out, Mais and I are having it together. She’s part of the reason I’m in this… situation to begin with.

She stares back at me with her mouth agape, eyes widened, no longer half-asleep. “Holy. Shit.”

I nod, sucking in a shaky breath as I bring my thumbnail to my lip and chew nervously.

“Okay, but like… what happened? Give me all the details, and don’t spare a single juicy moment, or I’m going to punch you in the tit.” Her hand curls around my wrist, and she drags me into the living room and onto the couch.

I flop onto the cushion and bury my head in my hands, groaning.

“Mais. God, it was… incredible, and so hot, and absolutely so stupid. I knew better, but I just…”

I feel her tugging my hands from my face, revealing a grin that splits her face, and it’s every bit of what I would expect from her. “Couldn’t help yourself?”

I shake my head again. “It was an out-of-body experience. I don’t even know how it happened. One second, we were playing the strip version of never have I ever, and then I was… in his lap, and he was kissing the ever-living shit out of me.”

Maisie squeals, nearly giddy from excitement. “God, I was waiting for this to happen. Seriously, I’ve been waiting ever since you told me you were going to be forced to share the ice with him. And then, you know, when he became your kind of fakeboyfriend-ish in a way, that absolutely sealed the deal. I hate to break it to you, babe, but this was inevitable.”

“It was not!” Her brow arches, and I sigh, swallowing hard. “It was the single hottest thing I have ever experienced.”

Granted, my experience is next to nothing, but, still.

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” she asks.

“The problem?” I blanch, standing up from the couch. I grab the ends of my braids to give me something, anything to help with the anxious excitement coursing through me and start to undo them as I begin to pace. “The problem is that he is quite literally the biggest fuckboy on campus. He’s the complete opposite of any guy I’d ever go for. He rides a motorcycle, he has tattoos. God, Mais. So. Many. Tattoos. When he took his shirt off, I actually thought I was going to spontaneously combust when I saw all of his abs, and God, then he had this little trail of sweat that was running between hi?—”

A velvety soft throw pillow barrels into my face, and I squeal. “What the hell, Maisie!”

“Focus!” Maisie says through a laugh. “Why is this a bad thing? You’re literally just telling me all the reasons why you should have another very hot make-out session in an elevator with Saint.”

My brow pinches while my fingers rake through my hair, pulling out the remaining pieces.

“Because, Mais, it’s complicated. He’s… Saint. He drives me insane ninety-nine percent of the time. The other one percent is reserved for when he’s kissing me, apparently. And this is supposed to be just a show to piss off my father, remember?”

She chuckles, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on the top. “Then don’t make it complicated. Look, this is exactly what we talked about when you asked him to fake date you. Bad boys equal fun. No-strings-attached fun that doesn’tresult in having your heart broken. As long as you follow the rule.”

I sit down beside her on the couch and sigh.

“He’s not going to be like Chandler, Len. Do you know why?”

My brow lifts in question.

“Because you’re not giving him the power to be. Hook up with him, have all the fun you’ve denied yourself because you were with someone who couldn’t have found your clit even if you gave him the chance to.” Her nose wrinkles as she shivers. “Sorry, I almost just gagged a little.”

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