Page 68 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

Someone—Ben clears his throat. I jump to my feet, and Asher’s palm slips into mine. Ben’s eyes lower to our linked hands. I hold my breath, waiting for a snarky reply that never leaves his lips. When my gaze strays to his legs, a grin splits my lips. We are wearing the same gray sweatpants. Unlike me, the jock didn’t need to roll his waistband about a hundred times for it to fit his waist.

Water coats Ben’s forehead, rolling down his temples. I steal another peek at him. Did my smell affect him so bad he had to take a shower? My breath catches in my throat when he lifts the hem of his tank top to wipe his face. I release Asher’s hand to fan myself because the place grows hot.

Who turned up the heat?

That V line. Does he sleep in the gym? I also work out, but I only have a flat tummy. I swoon at the sight of his sexy body; he has eight fucking packs. I thought the total number was six. How did I not notice all of this during our fight? Right, I was busy trying not to get beaten to a pulp.

“Pick it up,” Ben whispers.

I push out those silly thoughts. He helped me. The least I can do is thank him rather than ogle him shamelessly like I’ve never seen a hot boy. Have I? Ben has to be the hottest boy I know.

My eyes flit to his face, and he lifts a brow. “What?” I ask.

“Your jaw. It dropped when you were staring.” My mouth snaps shut, and my cheeks turn red. The idiot snickers. He has an ego bigger than this house. “Liked what you saw, Miss Juliet?”

“Nope,” I reply with an apathy that makes me proud. “Nothing to see there,Benny.”

Unfortunately, he covers his abs. It must feel good to lie on that broad chest, kiss those lips, and be cuddled by those strong arms. What will it take to have that?Okay, Tessa, stop it. The reason I’m here in the first place is because of him. Somehow, everything bad always leads back to him.

Ben belongs to Olivia.

“Thanks for helping me,” I whisper. My hand blindly reaches for Asher’s. I don’t like how his brother is gawking at me. I don’t see Asher, and it takes another second for me to realize we are alone. That sends my heart racing. I bite my lip, and his eyes narrow. “I…I have to get home.”

He jumps over the couch to stand beside me, and I become a million times aware of his presence. Do I say something? No, I should run as fast as I can. His fingers brush my arm. I stop breathing. My knees turn to jelly when he takes my hand. By some miracle, I don’t fall flat on my face.

Ben raises my hands to his lips, and his breath kisses my knuckles. “You are shaking. Are you okay?”

How can I be okay when he’s touching me? Ben grabs a remote to turn off the AC, and I am forced out of my daze. Who turned that on in this weather? Ben tugs me toward the stairs and yells, “Champ, we are leaving.” Asher screams back at us to wait, but Ben refuses. Urging me to the front door, he mutters, “Go, go, go. Hurry, Juliet. I don’t want him out of bed.”

The urgency in Ben’s voice pushes my feet forward, and at the sound of approaching footsteps, we dash out. I laugh hysterically when Ben locks the door behind us, only for Asher to start pounding on it.

He groans. I resist the urge to ruffle his hair and comfort him. “Go to bed, Champ,” he says to the door.

Another knock. “No.” Knock. “I want to see Tessa.” Knock. “Tessa, tell Benny you want to see me.”

Ben covers my mouth and whispers, “Champ, she’s gone. She’s not here.”

My eyes widen, and he shrugs. Ben, the liar. Asher eventually leaves, and we saunter to his bike without a word. I notice our hands are still connected. Ben does, too, and sadly, he releases me. The warmth racing up my arm dies, and an awkward silence settles over us. I miss his hand.

“It’s past his bedtime. That’s why I didn’t want him to come with us.”

Ben looks everywhere but at me as he says this. I don’t know how to reply, so I nod. The thing is, I don’t know if this is another one of those:be nice now, treat me like shitmoments with him. He gives me a whiplash. I shouldn’t care because we are not even friends, but I’m drawn to him.

“Your mom, where is she?”

“Out.”

Ben moves to the curb supporting his bike, and I follow suit because I am not ready to leave. We stand a few feet away from each other, and the awkwardness worsens. I search my brain for a safe topic but draw up a blank. What do we have in common? Drama club and a few classes. We have an assignment.

My head lowers, and my foot juts out to trace an invisible circle. This is more than awkward. “Ms. Eva asked us to submit a one page summary on Scott Fitzgerald.”

We are reading his most famous work.

“Done and submitted,” Ben answers.

I lift my head. “Without your partner?”

“She didn’t say we had to do it together.” No, but I assumed he would want to work with his partner. That’s why I haven’t started. “It doesn’t matter who submits it. We both get full marks.”

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