Page 32 of Broken By the Bad Boy

A boy directs him to a parking lot, and my jaw drops at the brands of cars available. What is this place? It looks like the venue Maria described for the double date that never happened. Ben stops the car. He splays my fingers on the console and traces lines on my palms. I try to concentrate on his face, but my eyes keep darting outside to the luxurious cars. This place screams expensive.

“About your mom’s number, I might have gotten it from your phone when you weren’t looking.” Ben watches me, waiting for my reaction, but I shrug. I need to know why we are here. He picks up on my worry and scratches behind his ear. “Err… and the car… is rented. Coach helped. He rented it for tonight.”

My throat clogs, and I have to clear it twice. “What’s happening tonight?”

“Our date?” Ben coughs while patting his chest. I’m too shocked to act or speak, but his nervousness makes me less nervous. “Our date,” he says with more confidence. “It’s tonight.”

Holy cow.

It is really happening. We are on our first official date. I manage a smile, but my inside jumbles with emotions. Ben leans forward. I slide my hands into his hair and kiss him back, pouring all the words I cannot say into our kiss. Our foreheads touch, and he smiles so hard my heart jumps.

“Our date,” I whisper, and he nods. Tears gather in my eyes. He bops my nose. “I love you.”

His smile is bigger, and it does something strange to my body. “I love you more.”

In this moment, everything is right, and we are young, happy, and truly in love. A beep from Ben’s pocket interrupts our moment. He peeks at his phone and shoves it back into its confine.

Ben doesn’t let me do anything. He opens my door and offers me a hand. A sliver of excitement runs down my spine, bubbling to the point I have trouble standing. We take a step inside, and I squeal. My boyfriend laughs beside me. This might not be a big deal to him, but it’s huge to me.

The boy I love and I are on our first proper date.

The interior is shiny, with intricate details carved into the wall. Chandeliers hang low but away from reach, and the white tiles reflect the bright ceiling lights. Music plays from hidden speakers. Servers in uniforms pause at different tables, tending to the diners with polite smiles. I love this.

Ben’s hand drops to my lower back as he guides me to the spot he booked for us. Our table is by the window. I take the seat across from him, and we smile at our twin images on the window.

A waitress approaches our table. She offers us a nod and starts on the usual formalities. I let Ben handle it. My finger circles the cork of the complimentary bottle of wine on our table. The label glued to the bottle says it’s a non-alcoholic beverage, and my nerves settle. No alcohol for me yet. I squint when he whispers into the waitress’s ear. She nods and takes her leave.

“What did you tell her?” I ask.

Ben spreads his hands on the table, and I rub my palms over his to create friction. The sound of spoons and forks connecting with plates filters in and out of my ears. I twirl my empty glass.

“Told her you are my girlfriend,” he answers.

Bloody liar.

A pink hue stains his cheeks as he folds his napkin into a triangle. Is he shy? He confirms it by avoiding my gaze. I like shy Ben.

The waitress returns with a tray and sets a glass candleholder on the center of our table. Ben pops the bottle of wine open. I clap like a child experiencing her first snow as it foams at the tip. Hiding his smile at my excitement, he winks, and my cheeks hurt from smiling too much.

“Am I your first girlfriend?” A drop of red wine escapes the bottle and trickles into my glass. Ben takes a moment to reply, then his head bobs. A small ball of insecurity grows in my belly. Why me? I am not special. He lowers the bottle to the table. “Have you ever been on a date?”

His hands disappear under the table. “This is my first. Like my first real date.”

Seconds pass with none of us asking a question, and he fills my flute with more wine. My lips pucker when I take my first sip and make a throaty sound. I taste raspberries and something else, but the overall sweetness is the reason I down the rest of the content. If it’s sugary, count me in.

“Is it good?” Ben asks, already moving to pour me a second round, and I nod.

Ben opens the bowl our waitress left, and an aroma wafts into my nostrils. Rice and peas served with jerk beef. He slides a plate across to me. My eyes close as I savor the juiciness of the meat on my tongue. Everything is right. I open my eyes to see Ben grinning, and my smile fades.

To take the attention off me, I point to the candleholder. Ben touches something at the bottom of the holder, and the artificial flame flares to life. “Why do we have a candle on our table, Benny?”

One look around, and my cheeks warm. We are the only table with a candle. Ben holds his chest in mock horror. “Candlelight dinner, babe.” I cover my mouth, laughing. “I hope this one counts.”

Unable to speak, I can only nod. Of course, it does. It’s the perfect candlelight dinner.

Fifteen

“Who was your first crush?”I ask Ben.

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