Page 33 of Broken By the Bad Boy

We are almost done with our meal. Well, I am. Ben has done nothing but watch me.

The place is quieter. I nibble on my lip as his gaze grows intense. He smoothens the front of his tux without looking away from me, and the air between us seems to evaporate. I pinch myself to stall my thoughts.

“Answer me, Benny,” I murmur.

Why do I feel like it’s someone I know?

“You first,” he replies. He starts on his meal before I get another word out.

The lights in the restaurant grow dim, servers move about the place silently, and soft music plays in the background. I sneak a peek at my phone. We have been here for over an hour. I place the phone face down to avoid any distractions. It is a few hours until Christmas and our anniversary.

Does he remember?

Poking my cheeks, I stick my tongue out. “My first crush was Brian.”

Ben’s fork clatters to the table. His brows furrow, he leans back into his seat and folds his arms on his chest. Ben might be jealous, but thanks to Brian, we are a couple now. I haven’t called him since we left the stadium. I should, to let him know his stunt worked, but I doubt Ben will appreciate our friendship. Wait until he hears about Lett, he will lose his mind. I already lost mine.

“Who’s Brian?” Ben’s shoulders tense, and he squints. But that only makes me grin. “Gracie?”

“Benny?” I like jealous Ben. He’s cute. Ben holds his glass to his lips without taking a sip. When he finally does, he empties the content into his mouth in one swift motion. I put him out of his misery by saying, “Brian is the hot guy from Asher’s game. The gentleman who helped me up.”

A wedge appears between his brows, and he frowns. I place my hand on top of his and give it a small squeeze. “Brian had this theory that you liked me.” A blush appears on Ben’s cheeks. He tries to pry his hand from mine, but my glare stops him. “I didn’t believe him because… I don’t know. Come on.”

My free hand sweeps over my body. I am nothing like the girls who sit at his table or the type he associates with. But Ben doesn’t seem to share my sentiment. He pushes his empty plate aside.

“So that’s why you kissed him,” Ben finishes for me, clearly misconstruing my point. Leaning forward, he braces his forearms on the table. “He’s lucky I didn’t punch a hole through his face.”

Only Ben can manage anger and sadness simultaneously. I would have ruffled his hair or kissed him if he was closer to me. With the candleholder between us, I take his other hand. Brushing his knuckles with my thumbs, a big smile takes over my lips, and the worry in his eyes dissolves.

“There was no kissing. Brian wanted to make you jealous, and it worked.” We maintain eye contact. He brings my hand to his mouth to place a soft kiss on the heel of my palm. I try not to giggle. He has kissed me so many times, but I still blush. “Your turn. Who was your first crush?”

A faraway look blankets his face. His head sways left, then right. His gaze returns to me, and he shrugs.

“I’m not sure. I don’t do crushes.” Of course not. He has enough girls drooling over him. His lips move into a pout. I want to kiss him, but I’m shy. “But you are my first high school crush, babe.”

My eyes grow to saucers. There are a lot of girls in school who could have been his first crush. Honestly, I expected it to be Olivia or someone prettier. I was prepared to put up a fake smile.

“No way.”

“Yes way.” Ben links our fingers. A shiver runs through me, and I swallow the lumps that collect in my throat. “After the video of you slapping Olivia went live on BGC, I thought you were chill. And then you walked into calculus class, so cute, asking me to give up my—your seat.” His hand slips from my grasp. He reclines on his seat and shakes his head slowly. “But after that match, I hated your guts. You couldn’t even look me in the eye. How could you have won that match?”

Laughter spills out of my lips. “You will never get over that, will you?”

“Maybe.”

“You are such a sore loser,” I tell him.

“I think I am,” he admits.

Ben pours some wine into my glass. “Shouldn’t you have been mad at me for hitting Olivia?”

That day, he was too comfortable with the fact I slapped her. He even suggested a punch.

My boyfriend beckons me with a crooked finger. I jerk forward. “Don’t get me wrong, okay?” A ghost of a smile touches my lips but dies off when he mutters, “Liv is my friend, but sometimes, she is too much. She needs to be put in her place, and you did that. The highlight of my day, babe.”

Ben’s laughter eases the tension that rolls into my joints at his use of her nickname. I trace the logo on the candleholder and offer him a small smile. “So, you agree she’s a manipulative bitch?”

He straightens up. “Bitch is a strong word. She can be nice once you get to know her.”

---