Page 70 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

“We don’t live once. We live every day,” I whisper against his neck. He throws me a backward glance. I have never fully understood that quote. It makes little sense. “But we only die once.”

For the rest of the ride, Ben maintains a reasonable speed. We are a few blocks from my house when it dawns on me that he didn’t ask for directions. I don’t know our status after the kiss, but we are not friends. I didn’t even know his house until recently. He has no reason to know mine.

Ben parks in front of my house, and I take some time to arrange my messy hair. He watches me run my fingers through my hair, and I can’t help but blurt out, “How do you know where I live?”

“I know a lot of things, Juliet,” he murmurs, and my stupid lips curl into a small smile.

What happened to: my name is not Juliet? I cast one look at my house, reluctant to go into the darkness. I want to stay here with him, pretend we are best friends or lovers. I like lovers better or Ben’s girlfriend. The sticker of a phoenix glued to Ben’s bike catches my eye, and then it clicks.

“You have been here before,” I grumble. My eyes immediately search for the tree across my house. I point to it. He was here a day after he lost his match to me. Ben shrugs. “I knew it.”

No, I didn’t, not until a second ago, and I have been seeing his bike at school. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were watching me.” His fingers run through his hair, and he rolls his shoulders carelessly as if to say: so what? He throws his other leg over the bike so he’s more comfortable and focuses on my face. My insides knot. If he dared lean over, he could easily grab my waist, and I highly doubt that I would protest. “Why?”

“No reason,” he says. I narrow my eyes and poke his chest. “That wasn’t the first or last time.”

My jaw drops. Oh, my God. I slap a hand over my mouth. My dream was not a dream. Was it?

“No way.”

“Yes way. I followed you after that match.” How many people have followed me home, and I didn’t notice? I never take my car. I use the public bus and walk the rest of the distance to avoid anyone knowing where I live. It takes a creepy stalker to find me. Ben, the stalker. His gaze trails my body. “I wanted to know what the person who beat me looked like. And I saw you. Your cute necklace gave you away, but I didn’t want to believe it. I lost to a fucking girl. That’s a first.”

Though his tone grows lighter, I am still wary. I don’t trust him. He didn’t return my necklace. I repeat the words he used to get me on his bike. “There’s a first time for everything, Benny.”

He laughs. “Do you realize you call me Benny all the time?”

“No, I don’t.” He’s a liar. Ben, the liar. “I only call you Benny.” He quirks a brow. Oh. My cheeks grow warm, and my hair curtains my face. “It was just this once, and that was a mistake. I meant to say Ben.”

“Did you?” he whispers.

I push one leg forward. The lights from a passing car illuminate my face. I bow my head and almost throw up at the vomit coating one side of my boots. I am never wearing these shoes again. Ben tucks a hand under my chin after the car drives off. I swallow at the intensity of his gaze. He doesn’t look at me like I disgust him, but I have no idea what to call that hungry look in his eyes.

“We make a great team on stage, Juliet. We will make great partners in the ring. What do you say?”

I don’t have the courage to look away from those piercing eyes. I don’t dare lie. Ben pulls my lower lip down to reveal my teeth. The simple action restricts my airflow, and I forget how to function.

Is it me, or is he leaning closer?

Is Ben going to kiss me again?Yes, please.

Ben’s breath warms my face, and my tongue wets my lip. I do everything but look away. I close my eyes when his lips brush mine. This time, I will do better. I will kiss him better. Seconds pass without another contact of his lips. Do I kiss him? One eye pops open, followed by the second.

Embarrassment prickles my skin at Ben’s smug smile. He wasn’t going to kiss me. His tongue runs over his soft lips, and he folds his arms on his chest, showing off his toned muscles. Doesn’t the cold affect him? Maybe not. His ego probably keeps him warm. It’s bigger than my head.

“Juliet,” he mutters. My hands disappear behind me when he stretches his. “Be my partner.”

That acute emotion creeps into his eyes, but I manage to look away. Why is he doing this to me? Acting as if we are cool. This whole thing confuses me. Ben doesn’t fancy me, and he will never like someone like Mother Theresa. He needs a partner. This is his way of doing things. Get me comfortable, then make a request like he did when he wanted me to show up for Asher’s game.

I can’t let him manipulate me. But my heart wants what it wants, and it wants to please him. All rational thoughts fly out when Ben flashes me another grin. I shove my hands into the pocket of my—his sweatpants. Maria will so hate me. I am such a simp. “I’ll have to ask my coach, Ben.”

Ben’s hands circle my wrists, and my mind muddles as he drags me to stand between his legs. Our foreheads almost touch. He’s still grinning when he releases me. I shake my partially wet curls, so they frame my face, but he pushes my hair into a messy bun, and my breath ceases again.

I am in love.

“So, you do fight?” he teases.

Blush rises to my cheeks. I hate how easy it is for him to evoke a physical reaction from me, but my heart never listens to my brain when Ben is involved. He drops my hands, and pathetic me misses his touch. I am stupid to think we have a future together after a silly kiss that only happened for him to prove a point.

“Never said I didn’t,” I snap. He lifts a brow, and I am forced to say, “Sorry.” His scowl worsens my guilt. It feels like I ruined the start of something great by overthinking it. “Thank you for the ride.”

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