Page 1 of Broken By the Bad Boy

One

I walk out.On Ben, our relationship, our future. I don’t look back; I continue walking.

The cold hits once I’m outside. Tears well up in my eyes, and everything I told him rushes back.

We are done.

I did it.

Tears stream down my cheeks and blind my vision. My heart thuds so hard I’m convinced it will make a hole in my chest. A door slams shut behind me. Someone barges out and curses. I have an idea who it might be, and my heart wants it to be him, but I am too much of a coward to turn around and find out. I don’t want a confrontation. It’s hard enough that I have to face him at school tomorrow.

“We are done when I say we are done,” thunders the voice, drawing closer to my spot. Ben’s shoes appear in my vision. I can’t meet his gaze, so I count the pebbles littered at our feet and kick them into the drainage. His hand sneaks under my jaw, and I duck right in time to avoid body contact. His touches make me weak. A groan escapes him, but my head stays down. “And I am not done, Gracie.”

What’s he saying? Didn’t he get the memo? We are done.

I raise my head to finish what I started inside. “Ben, I—”

Angry eyes shoot daggers at me. The rest of my words die in my throat as Ben throws me over his shoulder and marches back inside the gym. I punch his back, rain curses on him, and even try to knee him in the stomach, but none of that deters him.

“Ben. Benny. Benjamin Carter. Put me down. Now.”

A wave of dizziness hits me at the abrupt view of the tiled floors, and I focus on regulating my breathing. Ben’s ass is in my face. I can cop a feel if I want. Why am I thinking of that in a moment like this? Still, my fingers brush his ass. Firm. The door to a room—an office creaks open, and he dumps me on the only available seat. I jump to my feet in a bid to escape, but he cocks his head.

“Don’t you dare,” he warns. My legs turn to jelly. I raise my hands in a defensive stance. “Sit.”

God, I hate the power in his voice. I crumple into the chair, and the wrinkles on Ben’s forehead diminish. He is mad at me, and I don’t like it. I don’t want him to be angry. But we can’t happen.

Making himself comfortable on the desk with heaps of files, Ben crosses his arms on his chest and legs at his ankles. I feel like an unruly student in her principal’s office. “Start talking. Now.”

Different pairs of eyes peer into the office. Half the walls are made of glass, giving them a front-row view into our private affairs. I clear my throat, but no words escape. They are still staring.

Ben notices. “It’s soundproofed. They can’t hear us except I use this.” He unhooks the telephone hanging from the wall while keeping his eyes on me. “Get back to work, fuckers. Nothing to see here.”

A smile touches my lips as some of them throw their gloves up in protest. But they listen to him. In the moments until his gaze returns to me, I try to gather my thoughts. Do I mention Olivia?

“Gracie, talk to me.” With a sigh, I wring my hands. I should have raced to my car. As a kid, I used to run with Hayden. It was the only sport I did better than him. If I had run, I would have been out of here before Ben caught up to me. What should I say? I look up at him, and he shakes his head. “Please, don’t lie to me. What happened? Is it something I did? Just tell me the truth.”

The tears make a fresh appearance, but they don’t fall.

“Olivia.” Ben tenses. I keep my eyes trained on his chest. I don’t need to see that disappointment on his face when he acknowledges her words. He’ll take her side. “She said so many things, and she’s right about every single one of them. It just took her saying it for me to realize the truth.”

Ben places his hands on his waist. Even when annoyed, he manages to appear posh. I must look a mess. “What truth, babe?” I shrug. I can’t say it out loud. “Gracie, what did Olivia say to you?”

“That I’m not your type?” I reply with a sad smile and lift the hem of my shirt to show him my skin—all the patches that make me hate my body. Why can’t I have skin like Maria’s or the witch? “No one would want to date anyone with a skin like mine. Who wants to be with a girl who has vitiligo? What if she’s right, and I wake up one day to see I have contaminated you?”

That’s impossible, but it doesn’t stop me from saying or thinking about it. When you hear certain lies so often, you start to believe them. Ben hasn’t said anything to refute her claims. What if he agrees with Olivia? His brows draw tight over blue eyes, lips pucker in his famous thinking face.

“She called it zebra skin.” My voice falters. Ben scowls, and my heart clenches. I have no words left, and his silence proves she’s right. It’s really over. I wanted us to be over, but the desire for him to fight for our relationship was greater. “I guess that’s why you don’t want a label with me.”

“Labels make it more real.”

I am not sure which stings more, but his words cut right through my broken heart. He is hurting my feelings. I squeeze my hands until they lose feeling. My voice is barely above a whisper, and I no longer care how ugly I look as the tears flow down my cheeks. “So what we have—had was fake?”

Ben rakes his fingers through his messy hair. I can’t sit still any longer, so I shoot to my feet. I blink and the tears coating my lashes spill to my cheeks. Hiding his face in his palms, he groans.

“No. Not fake, Gracie. That’s not what I meant. I meant pressure. Stop crying, babe. I don’t like it.” But he is the reason for my tears. He should counter Olivia’s lies. “Please try to understand.”

I can’t. I won’t.

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