Page 34 of Broken By the Bad Boy

No, thank you. Once bitten, forever shy.

The waitress approaches us, but I refuse dessert. When Ben confirms I am ready to leave, we exit the restaurant. He opens my door for me. Ben, the gentleman. Once he’s seated, I straddle him.

“Who was your first kiss?” I ask. I might have googled first-date questions in the past. “Benny?”

Ben’s brows knot. He rotates his shoulders carelessly without replying. My breath fans his face, and he cups my ass. I push my tongue into his mouth and run my fingers through his hair as he takes over our kiss. His fingers weave into my scalp. He kisses me gently, then roughly, then returns to being gentle. My lips tingle when we break apart, and my cheeks are warm to the touch.

“Thanks for dinner,” I tell him. I pull his lip between mine. “Fun fact, you were my first kiss.”

Before Ben murmurs a reply, I am out of his lap. On my word, he starts the car. He drives with a hand on my leg while humming along to the radio. As we near our house, my heart thumps. I poke him in the shoulder, repeating the gesture until the car slows to a stop a few houses away from mine.

“I promised your mom I’ll bring you home early.”

My palm closes around the seatbelt, and I stare at my feet. He doesn’t want to be in Mom’s black book, but he will get in mine if he leaves before Christmas. Mom is not even around to know.

Oh, Hayden is home.

“How early?” Our eyes wander to the clock on the dashboard. We have an hour until Christmas.

“Eleven.”

My head jerks toward the building sitting pretty between dozens of others designed in a similar style. “If you park in front of my house, we can spend another hour together. What do you think?” I push a button on my door, and the window rolls down. Ben’s forehead wrinkles as he considers my offer. I pull out my phone to text Hayden. “I’ll tell Hayden we are outside. Drive.”

While he’s still pondering, I hit send on the brief text I composed. “Done,” I say.

I wave the phone in his face. He gives me a thumbs up and resumes the drive to our house.

The Christmas lights hanging on the door bring our house and those in the same row to life. I unbuckle my seatbelt and sneak into the backseat. Once Ben finds the perfect parking spot, he joins me. We leave a door open, and he drapes his jacket over my legs to shield me from the growing cold. My feet dangle from the edge of the seat. I rest my head on his lap, and he bends to kiss me.

“Did you enjoy the date?” I nod against his lap. He pecks me again, and my eyes fleet to the sky.

Stars illuminate the dark sky. We count them until we are bored.

“Have you decided on any colleges yet?” I look up to see Ben looking out his window.

The pad of his thumb traces a corner of my lips. “No, Gracie. Not yet.” My heart misses a beat. I push myself up, flattening my back against his chest, and he hugs me from behind. “Have you?”

Yes.

“Still thinking.” I disengage from him and close the door. Facing each other, we sit cross-legged, our feet touching. His lips twitch, but his smile doesn’t form. “Do you have a college in mind?”

Ben’s thumb never leaves my toe, but his head drops. “I haven’t decided on anything.”

The deadline for NYU’s regular admission is next month, and my application is almost ready. It has always been my first choice. Dad knows a few people there. But I don’t want to tell Ben this. I’m scared about our future. New York is miles away from San Francisco but only a few hours by air.

“Me too,” I whisper. I roll my lip between my teeth. “Still keeping my options open.”

A comfortable silence settles over the backseat of the rental car. I peek at the stars through my fingers. “It’s almost time,” he says. I dart a gaze at the clock. “Ready, babe? Ten. Nine. Eight.”

A swarm of bees explodes in my stomach. This will be our first Christmas together, the first of many. Ben pats his legs for me to sit. My arm slides around his neck, and our foreheads touch.

“Four,” Ben screams. His excitement pours over me, and I giggle. “Three. Two…”

“One,” we chorus and seal our first Christmas with a kiss.

The sky lights up with fireworks. Somewhere in the distance, someone screams, and another laughs. But we don’t break off our stare. We are in our bubble. “Merry Christmas, babe,” I say.

His hands slide down my back. “And happy anniversary,” he replies.

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