Page 147 of Counter Bet

Ben lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t want a peek. I know you better than that, Dell.”

She shrugs, biting her lip to suppress a smile. “I’m saying nothing.”

I also gave a photograph to Dallas, and she promised to put it on his bed before she went to work. I’m not sure what else I can do? I’m at the end of the road. This is my last shot, and if it doesn’t work, I will step back and let him get on with his life.

I tried, at least. That’s what I’m telling myself.

“Are you nervous about his reaction?”

I look up from my sketch, smiling at Scarlett as she sits down next to me. “I was, but not anymore.” I shrug. “I think I’m too late.”

Scarlett purses her lips. “You’re lying. You’re still nervous.”

I laugh and wave her off. “You’re too perceptive. I’m nervous, but I mean it when I say it’s too late. Ben would have found me by now if he was still in love with me.”

She eyes me for a moment before releasing a resigned breath. “Yeah. Maybe. But you can’t give up yet.”

I tap my pen on the desk, glancing over at a group of students at a nearby table. Is it a mistake to chase Ben like this?

One of the guys looks up from the tablet in his hands.

Our eyes connect.

He wears a cap turned backward, and wisps of blonde hair peek out from beneath it. He’s cute.

I look away first.

Scarlett sniggers next to me. “So, do you want us to ignore the fact that he eye-fucked you?”

I scoot my chair back and avoid her gaze, cursing my blazing cheeks as I pack up my things. “It won’t happen, Scar. I’m with Dallas. What we have is not an all-you-can-eat buffet. It will just be us if Ben doesn’t forgive me.

“But what about the sausage?” she shouts after me, laughing like a hyena as I run for the door.

* * *

Ben.

I close the bedroom door behind me and throw my backpack down on the floor. The photograph I found on my desk earlier today is burning a hole through my back pocket.

I stare at the floor with my shoulders hunched for a long moment before taking out the picture and unfolding it. I know this photograph. Dallas took it on the beach when we skipped school and drove two hours in Emily’s car.

My chest hurts. Why is she doing this to me? It hits me like fucking wrecking ball every time I find one of these photographs. It’d seemed like a cute idea at the time when we first met to gift her photos as a part of our stalker joke, but now it’s just a fucking painful reminder.

Seven months have passed since we broke up, and I can’t make sense of the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. I’m not over her. I know that much. But I had reached a point where I could fuck other women without picturing her in their place. I was making progress, and now I’m back at square one as if she came along and flicked me back with her finger and thumb. What the fuck does she want from me?

I flip the photograph over in my hand and read her handwriting on the back.

“I will never hurt you again!”

Yeah, right!My hand trembles. I drop the photograph like it’s on fire, watching it flutter to the ground. Her smile taunts me, so I squeeze my eyes shut, ball my fists and take a moment to calm myself down.

“Lie down, Ben.” Emily pushes me down on the sand with her hand on my chest. “Dallas, let’s bury him up to his neck in sand like they do in the movies, so only his head sticks up.”

“Do I get a say in this?” I chuckle and pull her down on top of me, admiring the view of her full breasts squashed against my chest. If only she wasn’t wearing a bra.

She leans down, brushing her lips against my ear. “I’ll suck your dick if you let us do this without complaint.”

A deep chuckle rumbles in my chest. I place my arm behind my head. “You have yourself a deal.”

---