Page 84 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

Ben’s head snaps in the direction I am looking at, but the bitch is gone. He eyes me warily, questions heavy in his blue orbs. I force a smile to my lips, and we enter the class holding hands.

Forty-Seven

I can’t stop thinkingabout Olivia.

And now, Abigail. I wrap an arm around myself as Abigail darts a murderous glance at me for the umpteenth time. If she’s so mad Ben chose to be with me, why can’t she take it up with him? Same with Olivia. If she wants me to stay away from Ben so badly, why can’t she tell him that?

What happened to girl power? Why must we girls hate each other?

“Then X gives you five.” Mr. Sam’s voice jolts me out of my reverie. He scribbles on the board and rambles some more about X. “If you move the equation to the left, we will find the other X.”

I doubt anyone is paying attention to him since he has repeated the same thing twice. A paper plane hits my temple. I narrow my eyes at the sender, and Ben winks. My cheeks turn a shade darker. How did I land him? Are we real? Ben motions for me to pick up the plane at my feet. I delay for a nanosecond to get a reaction from him. He clasps his hands and juts out his lower lip.

A smile springs to my lips at the content of his note. I flip him off. He is too sweet. So unreal.

The note says:Are you okay? You look lost.

I push the doubts creeping up on me. People change. They deserve a second chance, but what made Ben change his mind about me? We didn’t start talking until this semester. Wait, was it the cake? He was pretty excited about it. I take out my pencil to write down a reply to him. He makes kissy faces at me, and I giggle, slapping a hand over my mouth to avoid calling attention.

He is so distracting, but I really like him.

Yup. I’m okay. The class is boring.

I don’t want to bother him on the first day of our relationship. Ben’s hair falls over his eyes, and he flicks it off. I like this look, but he needs a haircut. I pass the note to him like a normal person, but Ben being Ben, does the opposite when he sends his reply. I make a sound of disapproval, and he joins his hands, linking his fingers on one side of his chest to form the shape of love.

My heart skips. Is Ben in love with me?

Love. It is too strong a word, and we have never used it. Love takes time to form, right? He can’t love me. I don’t think too much about it. Well, I try not to, but my lips stretch into a small smile.

Ben:Yes. So boring. I wish we could get out of here. I want to kiss you again and again.

Giggles sputter out of my lips, abruptly dying when I lift my head to Mr. Sam’s glare. His hand shoots out for the note, and some heads turn in my direction. My cheeks heat up. “Hand it over.”

Ben grimaces and subtly shakes his head. I will die if Mr. Sam collects it.

“Theresa Mower, the note, or you can forget Calculus for the rest of this semester.” Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and my palms grow clammier. In a few strides, Mr. Sam is at my desk, hand stretched out to me like I owe him money. “You are wasting precious time. We don’t have all day.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I drop the note on his palm. He storms back to the front. Ben gives me two thumbs down, and my heart rolls to my belly. Is he going to break up with me after this?

He cannot.

What am I saying? We are not a couple. Wait, we are. He called me his babe, and I’m his Gracie.

The class falls quiet as Mr. Sam scans the rows of students for another scapegoat. There’s only a little gap between Ben and me, but it seems to grow wider when he refuses to look my way. I fold my sweaty hands under my thighs as Mr. Sam’s finger moves left and right until it settles on Abigail.

He invites Abigail forward and hands her the note. My breath halts in my throat. “Read it to the class.”

My cheeks redden. I hide my face in my palms when she starts reading. A lump forms in my throat each time she stresses a syllable. She didn’t need to emphasize them. Ben’s aloof attitude only increases my worries. The delight in her voice is clear. The witch is so excited to embarrass me.

The awkward silence is punctured by muffled giggles when Abigail finishes. My cheeks are a darker shade of red as my eyes locate the formula calendar hanging on the wall. I’m not a part of this.

“Who wrote this?” Mr. Sam asks.

The class erupts in laughter, some steal glances at me, and I slide down my chair. I have never been in detention. Never been suspended. But I know one of that will happen if I say something.

“I did.” I cast Ben a worried look. He can’t take the blame alone. I am also to blame, so why am I mute? Because I’m a terrible babe. “It’s a rehearsal for drama club. I’m Romeo, and Gracie is Juliet,” he explains to anyone listening. I clear my throat to draw his attention. He’s the only one allowed to call me Gracie. The whole class doesn’t have to know. “I mean, Mower. Miss Mower is Juliet.”

Damn. Theresa or Tessa must have hurt him so badly for him to hate the name this much.

---