Page 47 of Broken By the Bad Boy

My shoulders sag. It feels like I ruined a good thing over something so silly. I could have asked about it. “Are you mad?”

“A bit. More sad and disappointed,” Ben replies. He pulls his hand from my face, and his eyes find mine. “I needed you last night, and you lied. I was in front of your house. I could see you. You lied to me, Gracie.”

A brief silence ensues, and my insides knot tightly. I want to look away, but Ben is gazing at me. The sadness in his eyes doubles. His disappointment is palpable. I know the moment he is talking about. I was in the room, trying to force myself to sleep after a long talk with Hayden. He leaves today. Knowing Ben was half the reason for my crankiness, his text irritated me. I wouldn’t have lied if I knew he was in front of the house. I wasn’t there for him when he needed me.

“You also lied.” I stare at my feet and count to ten. My excuse is lame, but he might understand. Moving forward, I won’t lie anymore. I lift my gaze to his face, and my words rush out. “You went to dinner with Olivia and her mom. And you didn’t mention it when I asked. It hurt me too.”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin your mood. You don’t like talking about her. There was no need to mention it.” Ben stops me from wringing my hands, and I sigh. He ruined my mood anyway. “Liv is a family friend, babe. Her mom was with us. Is that your reason for giving me attitude?”

My head bows in shame, and his silence intensifies my remorse.

“We didn’t speak for eight days. And today, you lied again.” My head snaps up. I have no excuse. “You went eight days without speaking to someone you claim to love.” When he says it like this, I realize I am a bigger asshole than I thought. “Gracie,” he adds in a soft voice. “Please tell me. Were you avoiding me? You left your house earlier today because you knew I would be there.”

My throat closes. Ben knows me too well. I scan his face to determine his anger level, but his expression is blank. As the silence extends, a muscle in his jaw ticks. He sets his bag in the space between us. He’s furious.

“I know when you’re lying, Gracie. Don’t you dare lie to me.” I swallow harder. “Yes or no?”

How does he expect me to answer that?

I dump his bag behind me and inch closer to him. He grabs my wrists to keep me from touching me, and the warning in his eyes stops my struggles. “Yes,” I answer in barely above a whisper.

Ben drops my hands. Hurt flickers across his face, and it shatters my heart. He retrieves his bag from the bench and rises to his feet. His lips curve into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he pushes the straps of his backpack over his arms. I force myself to my feet, so we face each other.

“Benny.” My hands wrap around his waist, and my cheek presses to his chest. “Please wait.”

He pries my hands off him, lowers his head, and his hands descend to my shoulders. “You hurt my feelings, Gracie. You really hurt my feelings. And I’m very disappointed. I’m mad at you.” My lower lips tremble, and a tear leaks to my cheek. “I don’t want to talk to you right now, okay?”

“I’m sorry.” I swipe a hand over my cheek.

His thumb trails the path the tear creates on my cheek. “I know,” he whispers and straightens up. “But I’m still hurt. You have to learn to talk to me. It doesn’t matter what. If it bugs you, tell me.”

“Benny, I’m sorry. Are we breaking up?” The pounding of my heart drowns every sound in the cafeteria, and my insides knot with fear and anticipation. We can’t break up. “Benny. Are we?”

If he breaks up with me, I’ll hate myself. I fist my hands at my sides to stifle the urge to hold him.

“Do you want to break up?” I shake my head. “I don’t want to break up, too.” My chest sags in relief. I stare at his pink lips. We have not had a proper kiss this year. “But I need to cool off.”

“Okay.” He can do that. I nod again. “I love you, Benny. Go cool off, and we’ll talk later, okay?”

Ben gives my shoulders a small squeeze instead of hugging me. I hate it, but I am grateful for any form of body contact. He pecks me, and his lips linger on my cheek for a moment or two.

“I love you too, Gracie.”

Twenty-Two

I am barely listeningto our math teacher. His lips move, but I hear nothing. Ben’s words keep echoing in my head, stabbing me in my heart, but I take comfort in the fact we didn’t break up.

Mr. Bigg throws a question to the class. Someone answers, and he nods in approval. I count the seconds until the bell rings, but a peek at my wristwatch shows I’ve been in class for less than ten minutes. A period lasts forty minutes. I doubt I will survive that long without talking to Ben.

I shoot to my feet. My books clatter to the floor, and my chair squeaks.

“Yes, Theresa?” Mr. Bigg says.

Heads turn in my direction, and my eyes locate the floor. Buying time to compose myself, I pick up my books and set them on my seat. When Mr. Bigg’s footsteps approach me, I raise my head.

“I’d like to use the bathroom.” A girl snickers behind him, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from commenting something clever. Mr. Bigg stops a row ahead of mine and crosses his arms. I force a note of desperation into my voice, pressing my knees together as I bounce. “Sir?”

One, two… five seconds later, Mr. Bigg nods. I try my hardest not to squeal and rush out of the class. Once I find the perfect hiding spot, I text Ben, my feet rapping on the floor while I impatiently await his reply. My phone pings. I smile and turn the corner leading to his class.

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