Page 3 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

Three

Breathe,Tessa. Breathe.

He only said, hey. I know it’s a simple word, but it’s coming from him, which makes all the difference. Under his stare, my cheeks heat up, and I avert my gaze to the whiteboard. Holy cow.

Ben spoke to me. I need to text Maria immediately.

Wait, what’s wrong with me? I need to get a grip.

It’s just hey, and I don’t do boys. High school isn’t for dating. I fiddle with the pendant on the necklace Hayden gave me. It’s my good luck charm. I wear it everywhere, even inside the ring.

The coldness of the necklace helps to calm my thoughts, and I remember my mission before he spoke. “You are in my seat,” I tell Ben with more conviction than I did the last time.

“Really? I didn’t know school labeled them after each student,” he says. I open my mouth to counter his argument, but he pats his lap. “Not to worry, you can sit here. It’s much more comfortable than the chairs.”

Mr. Sam’s voice cuts off my reply, not like I had a good one. I follow his fingers as he explains the formula on the board, something about a pentagon. Or was it a hexagon? Whatever it was, it ended withgon.

Ben nudges me with his foot twice, but I choose to ignore him. His chair squeaks as he drags it closer to mine. Chills run down my spine when he leans in to whisper, “Nice slap, cutie.”

My eyes almost pop out of their sockets. Ben called me a cutie. Where is my best friend?

Wait.Nice slap?My head jerks toward Ben. He chuckles and pushes his seat back without a sound. At my confused look, he waves his phone in my face, ducking it out of my reach when I make to grab it. Dread settles in the pit of my belly. No, I refuse to consider the only possibility.

It cannot be. We were alone in the hallway.

“Let me see,” I whisper to a smiling Ben, who is all too happy to see me worked up. “Please?”

His fingers curl in his hair, and he leans back in slow motion like he knows how sexy the move is. He’s hot and intelligent. While I can appreciate that perfect combo, he doesn’t have to know.

Putting on my best poker face, I hold his gaze for a second, and that arrogant smirk returns.Aish. He’s so full of himself. I point to his phone, hoping he will take the hint and show me the video. Instead, he shrugs and slides the phone into the pocket of his jeans without breaking eye contact.

I should have grabbed it when I had the chance. After one last shared dirty look, my eyes fixate on the back of Mr. Sam’s head as he scribbles on the board. I’m determined to pay attention to the class, but Ben is hell-bent on making that impossible.

He nudges me again. I ignore him. A crumpled note falls to my desk, courtesy of the handsome jackass on my right. As curious as I am, I flick it off my desk without a peek, and his muffled groan makes me grin. Unlike both of us, other students are taking notes. I pull out my notebook to busy myself. Ben pokes me in the side with his pencil. I grit my teeth, and my head snaps to his stupid smiling face.

“What?” I bark at him.

The classroom quietens. Heads turn to us with a death glare directed at only me. Mr. Sam pauses his intense writing, his gaze alternating between Ben and me. He sighs.

“Theresa, be quiet.”

I offer him an apologetic smile. Ben laughs again, but no one calls him out for it. I suppress a hiss at the partial treatment and start doodling on my note, all interest in this class gone. The bag at my foot vibrates. I take out my phone, and bile rushes to my throat at the message in all caps.

“Hey.” It’s Ben again, but I’m too focused on Maria’s text to entertain him. If it’s all caps, then it has to be urgent. I don’t want to open BGC like my best friend’s text demands. “Next time, you should punch her. Break her nose or something.” I glare at him, and he winks. “Nice necklace.”

At that, I shove my necklace into its hiding spot. He snickers but doesn’t bother me anymore. Mr. Sam throws us a warning glance. I convince myself to open the blog, and my head spins a bit.

No, no, no. Not this.

Nice slap?

Next time, punch her.

It all begins to make sense when a mute video of me slapping Olivia in the hallway stares back at me. The worst are the comments asking if it’s photoshopped, while some reply with memes of the slap.

My mood takes a downward shift, and I groan. I’m in deep shit.

“You good?”

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