Page 96 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

He smirks and crosses his arms. Did Hayden look this hot as a teen? My brother isn’t as skinny as I am, but he isn’t bulky. My heart clenches as my thoughts drift to unholy places. Why can’t he be mine? I don’t know who created the ranking system, but they were unfair to me. The poster child should get a reward for being good. I want Ben to be my reward because I really like him.

“Just good, Coach? Come on,” he says. His eyes crinkle with delight as he stands in front of me with his arms planted on his hips. Sexiness oozes out of his pores. I’ve never been on board with the idea of licking people, but all I can think now is…lick Ben. “Admit it, you were impressed.”

Ben watches me for a long minute, and his lips turn up in an arrogant smile. The urge to scream and beg him to love labels or break the ranking system and love me is stronger. On instinct, I step back and redirect my gaze to the current task to stop myself from doing something silly.

“I can do it better,” I say with a grin. Ben snorts. His confidence is so overwhelming, one thing he shares with Olivia. “Watch,” I add, slapping my phone against his chest, “and learn, Benny.”

My fists connect with the old punching bag in a tap, tap, punch rhythm. I forget where I am and smash it like I have seen professional boxers do. Picturing it as Olivia’s face also helps. I keep at it until my arms protest, and my speed slows. When I stop, my breath rushes out of my lungs. It has been a while since I used a punching bag. Most of my fights involve only the legs because my punches don’t carry as much weight as the guys. A punch of theirs has the force of three of mine.

I bend to catch my breath, hands on my knees. Looking up, my gaze meets Ben’s.

“What?” I ask.

Ben blinks like he is having trouble with his sight. I snatch the bottle of water someone offers me and take a greedy gulp. Aside from the state of this building, the occupants are pretty chill.

“Wow,” Ben says with open admiration.

“That’s how it’s done, Benny,” I murmur. The cockiness I tried to put into my voice is missing. I take another sip from the bottle and run my fingers through my damp hair. My arms hurt like hell.

“She will kick your ass, Kiddo,” the man from earlier screams. “Run while you still can.”

Ben rolls his eyes. Without looking back, he says, “Mind your own goddamn business, old man.”

The men roar with laughter, letting us know it’s all in good fun. Ben tugs me to his chest, and my breath catches. Sweat rolls down my forehead to his top. He doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t care. His head lowers, and he nibbles on my lips before capturing them. The bottle in my hand drops to the floor. I don’t remember being carried, but my legs curl around his waist, and my back presses against a wall.

Ben tastes like mint. Mint is his favorite bubble gum flavor, and now it’s mine. I groan against his lips. He breaks our kiss to pepper more kisses along my neck, collarbone, and any visible skin.

“Gracie,” he says with another kiss on my jaw. I melt in his hold and at his words. The intense emotions on his face have my insides knotting with dread. Too bad we can’t be together. “You didn’t kiss me this morning,” he whispers against my neck, and a chill shoots to my toes. “I didn’t like that.”

“Ben.” I place a hand on his chest, and he sets me down on my feet. Giggles escape my lips as he rubs his nose against mine. No one pays us attention, and I am grateful for that. Ben’s proximity messes with my brain, and his scent clouds my thoughts. I forget what I have to say. “Ben. Benny.”

The hottie hums, but he doesn’t stop kissing my neck. My head falls back. “Gracie.”

A moan slips from me. “Ben, stop.” He doesn’t. I don’t want him to. “Ben. Please.” His eyes search mine, hoping for an answer. I clench my fists at my sides. It’s now or never. “We can’t.”

Ben arches a brow that disappears into the mess of hair hanging over his forehead. I don’t want to do this. “We can’t what?” he asks, tone heavy with fear and uncertainty. My palms press into the brick wall behind me, supporting my weight as I search for an escape that’s not there. Ben cups my jaw and pulls my lip between his. I don’t want to do this to us. “Talk to me, Gracie. We can’t what?”

“We can’t be together.”

A second or two passes. It’s hard to keep count with his eyes piercing me. “Where’s the clip?”

What clip? Oh, that one. “In the house,” I reply.

“And your bracelets?”

“House?” I croak out.

Ben steps forward like the distance between us isn’t invisible enough. Goosebumps erupt on my skin, and an electrifying feeling zaps through me as his chest presses to mine. “So I’m guessing this one…” he starts as he pulls out the clip and bracelets I dumped in school. Words lodge in my throat. “…I found in the trash just happens to resemble the one I gave you, babe. Right, Gracie?”

What was he doing in the trash? I manage to nod. “Yeah. A big coincidence.”

Another terse moment passes between us. Ben’s stare soaks me with guilt, and I’m glad when he backs away from me. He knows I’m lying. His sadness is so palpable it wraps around him like a cloak as he processes my reply. He smiles sadly at me, and my pulse quickens. I am such an asshole.

“You could have told me you didn’t want it. I know it’s nothing, but I thought you would like it.”

“I did. I do,” I whisper through the weight in my chest. “I know the bracelets are from you, not Asher. They were apologies.”

There, I said it.

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