Page 80 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

“Watch where you are going,” I bark, ready to punch sense into the idiot standing in the middle of the parking lot like he owns the place. The person doesn’t move. I stomp to his front, half-launching into a speech when I see it’s Ben. He is not moving. I tap him. “Ben. Benjamin.”

“She’s here.”

His eyes have a faraway look. I follow his gaze and see nothing but a black Toyota with tinted windows. His arms jerk. I try to pry his fists open, but he doesn’t stop shaking. What’s wrong?

“Who?” I whisper.

“Her.”

Tears fill his eyes. His breathing becomes labored, but he doesn’t look away from Her, whoever that person is. Fear claws my insides. I snap my fingers in his face and poke him on the side to get a reaction out of him. But nothing happens. This is not the Ben I know, and I will gladly pick an asshole Ben over a scared Ben. The Toyota is still there, but it’s not the only car in the lot.

A tear leaks to his cheek. My heart clenches, and I do the most stupid thing. I kiss him.

His lips are as soft as I remember, but he doesn’t return the kiss. I palm his face, willing him to snap out of his trance, but he’s unresponsive. “Romeo,” I whisper. “It’s me. Juliet. Your Juliet.”

Nothing. As I’m about to pull back, Ben pecks my lips, and I grow shy, knowing he’s conscious. A part of me expects him to shriek in horror because I kissed him, but he cups the base of my neck.

“My Juliet,” he says.

“My Romeo,” I reply in the same tone. My lips press to his. “I’m here.”

Ben kisses me back. Softly at first, as if seeking consent, and I provide it with a moan. Tingles travel from my lips to my feet. I kiss him with more urgency. He picks up the pace, kissing me like he needs me to survive. Goosebumps erupt on my arms, my body melts into his perfect frame, and my fingers slide into his messy hair. I massage his scalp, loving the sound it elicits from him.

We disengage to get some air. Ben’s forehead touches mine, and a smirk flits across his lips. I want to smile, but every single wrong he has done rushes to the surface, especially his attitude from tonight. I almost step back, but the vulnerability in his eyes keeps my feet rooted to the floor.

Where does this leave us now?

My lips part to ask that, and he whispers, “Shh. Don’t ruin the moment.”

I nod. I can’t do otherwise. Ben laughs. I laugh. Soon, we are both laughing hard from our bellies. As we head to my car in silence, he slides his hand into mine and laces our fingers. He stops beside the driver’s side, and I am about to tell him I lost my key when he produces it from his back pocket.

“You dropped this,” he says. I accept it without meeting his gaze. “I was coming to give it back.”

“Thanks.”

Ben pries the key from me and opens the door. I am relieved and excited when he slides into the passenger seat without an invitation. I won’t say it, but I want him here. My hand closes around the wheel, and I focus on the wall before us until I regain control of my breathing. OMG. Ben is in my car. I have given him a ride in the past, but we never kissed. I tuck my hands between my legs.

“Who was that?” I whisper.

Silence hangs over us, and I dart a gaze outside. The tinted car is gone. Whoever that was, she scared the shit out of him. I don’t like it. I don’t like the sinking feeling that settles in my belly. Ben is never scared of anyone. I’ve watched him fight guys twice his size, and he showed no fear.

“Theresa,” he whispers. Thinking he’s calling me, my head jerks toward him. But his head hangs low like he’s talking to himself. He sighs. “Her friends call her Tessa. I hate that name. I hate her.”

I am not sure he realizes what he said. He clenches and unclenches his fist, staring at them for so long a chill creeps down my legs. I clear my throat, and he looks up. “Thanks for helping me.”

“No biggie.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. Are we going to talk about her or the argument on the field? Why does he hate the name? Is that why he loathes me? I share a name with Her. “Grace. My middle name is Grace. You can call me Grace if calling me Tessa makes you uncomfortable.”

“Grace,” he mutters like he’s hearing it for the first time. I like how uncertain my name sounds coming from him. It might take some getting used to. “Gracie. I like Grace. It’s way better.”

That comfortable silence descends on us once more. I should start the car, ask him to leave or check on Asher. My job here is done, but I don’t want to ruin the moment. His thumb trails my cheek, my tongue wets my lips, and Ben repeats the action with his forefinger, eyes trained on me.

“I’m sorry I made you cry,” he says. I almost laugh, but I settle for a tight smile. It doesn’t matter how many times he apologizes. It won’t change what happened between us. He doesn’t like me, and I can’t bring myself to be mad at him. I’d rather be hurt than be with someone forced to pretend they care about me. I gulp when he unbuckles my seatbelt. “I’m not ashamed of you.”

“Don’t.” He retracts his hand, and a pathetic sigh leaves me. I miss his touch. This proximity is messing with me. I close my eyes to garner the courage to speak out. I will never get this off my chest if he continues staring at me. My hands shake, and I hide them behind me. “Don’t lie to me, okay? Don’t act like you care, Ben. You don’t. You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it.”

Instead of looking at him to gauge his reaction, I gawk at the wall. I am doing this for myself.

“You don’t get it. Please look at me.” My eyes clench tighter, and he sighs. I don’t want to look at his face. Maybe I lied, and I don’t want him here. “Olivia was in the hallway, and she was watching us. I didn’t want to give her another reason to bully you. You said it yourself on Halloween night. She told you to stay away from me. Gracie, I’m not ashamed of you. I was trying to protect you.”

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