Page 77 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

No. Nope. Is this our first fight? I take deep breaths, pull out my phone, and type a better reply.

Me:I’m sorry I don’t sound so excited about your kiss. Maybe I am a bit angry at you for telling me not to kiss him.

Me:Tbvh, I know you are right, my best friend will probably say the same but I don’t want to hear it because I want to kiss him again. I am not sure he will ever like me but when we kiss, it feels so right. I can’t stay away from him.

Me:That feeling is out of this world. I am SUPER GLAD you got another kiss. It’s nice to get a kiss from someone you like. It is nicer if the person likes you back but I’m fine with this for now. He might start liking me later. Who knows?

Lett:I get you. I really do. That’s how I feel about her, she is so cute but we share nothing in common. OK, we share a few things in common but she always looks at me like I annoy her. Maybe I do annoy her but she didn’t seem to hate the kiss. Lol.

Lett:Do you think I am annoying?

Me:Except for the fact you take so long to text back, I don’t think so.

Lett:Right. I think she was very much into it.So AJ is calling. He needs me. Stay safe for me, stranger. Lol. We need to find better names for each other.

We do. But I don’t type that.

My phone alarm goes off, and I shoot out of bed to get a change of clothes. I promised Asher I would be at his games, and it’s today. One glance at my outfit in the mirror has me nodding in approval. Ben will be there to support his brother, so I need to look good if I want another kiss.

I leave the house with Maria’s song playing on repeat in my ears. If she ever auditions for AGT, she will ace it. I slide into the only available parking spot with my arm hanging outside the window. Before stepping out of the car, I take a second to freshen up in the rearview mirror.

The cheers threaten to deafen me. I head into the stadium filled to the brim with opposing teams seated far from each other. The scoreboard shows the guests are losing. My eyes scour the field for Asher; he’s number eleven. The stadium quietens when an opponent snatches the ball. I stop trying to find a seat and wait to see what happens next. I shift when some viewers yell at me to get out of their sight, veins bulging like I am the reason the opposing team snatched the ball.

In my haste to get a better spot, I collide with a wall. Time stops. I try to find my balance, but it’s too late.

Forty-Four

I am falling.

My instincts kick in, I try to grab onto the wall, but my hands slice through thin air. Closing my eyes, I wait for my body to hit the ground, but nothing happens. It’s too calm. No, wait. I am moving. I peel one eye open. The blue sky comes into view first, the roof is next, then a mop of brown hair with the owner squinting at me with worry etched on his face. I sit up slowly, hands stretched out to steady myself should I fall again. But I don’t fall because I’m on something firm.

I look down to see I’m seated. I’m sitting on a guy’s lap.

As if reading my thoughts, his hand snakes around my waist to keep me down. “What are you doing?” I whisper harshly, but the stadium drowns my voice. They are cheering too loud, and this lousy idiot is touching me. I don’t care that he saved me from falling. “Let…let go of me.”

“Relax, Tessa. It’s me,” the boy says. My brows furrow, and he chuckles. “Brian. Brian McCartney.”

I don’t relax, but I don’t try to stand. I give him a onceover, studying the freckles littered over his nose. Only one person has this many freckles, and I haven’t seen him since they moved. I forget we are in the view of disapproving parents and whisper, “Brian?” I swipe a finger over his freckles. “McCartney.”

Brian nods. I fling my arms around his neck, choking him in a hug. He was my first crush until his family moved, then I experienced my first heartbreak. His chest vibrates with laughter. I pull away to smile at him. He pinches my nose like he used to do. I feign annoyance and swat his hand.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, making myself more comfortable. A woman on the bleacher above ours frowns down at me. I kiss Brian on the cheek to annoy her. “It’s been what—eight years?”

Brian laughs and raises one hand. “Five?” he says. I shake my head. “Seven?”

It has been longer than that. Brian’s focus returns to the field, and the countdown to the end of the match starts. My knowledge of sports may be limited, but Asher’s team is leading by a goal.

“Our junior team is playing,” he says, pointing to the opposition in yellow jerseys. Asher’s team is in blue. I adjust my weight on his legs, and his arm steadies me. “I decided to tag along. I was gonna come around to the house, but I wasn’t sure you still lived there. I have missed you, lady.”

See, he called me lady. Ben needs to take lessons from him.

“We still live there,” I tell him as I mess up his hair. “I missed you too, young man.”

The final whistle blows, and the crowd erupts in a thunderous cheer. People rush to the field to hug the players. I sight the scoreboard and grin. Asher’s team won. I try to locate him in the joyous mess, but it is impossible. I look at Brian, and he smiles like his junior team didn’t just lose.

He has grown so much since the last time I saw him. He is no longer the shy nerd I knew. With his current looks and build, he would fit right here in Broadway Heights, in the same clique as Ben.

Speaking of Benjamin Carter, where is he?

---