Page 6 of Broken By the Bad Boy

“You don’t have to come if you don’t—”

He cuts me off. “When?”

I swallow the lump getting comfortable in my throat. “Thanksgiving.”

“Gracie… I’ll be with my mom. The whole family must be present for thanksgiving.”

I clear my throat. “Not on Thursday but Sunday. My mom wants to meet my boyfriend.” Faint lines appear on his forehead. The distance between us offers me the courage to add, “My dad too.”

Another long minute of silence passes, and I am sure Ben will refuse. But he bridges the gap, and my heart slows. I sneak into his lap. He cups my face, dragging my lip between his teeth.

“I’ll ask my mom and get back to you.”

Three

The beepof my phone alerts me to Ben’s presence downstairs. I storm out of my room and rush back in to check myself out in front of the mirror. I run a brush through my hair to achieve the perfect girlfriend look. After a quick arrangement of my already neat room, I race outside. On the last stair, I caution myself. I saw him at school earlier today. I also spent last night with him.

Stopping in front of the door, I take a deep breath and open it. No sign of Ben. My head pokes out, and a laugh catches in my throat when I see the young man seated on his bike with a cigarette sticking out of his mouth. He doesn’t notice me sneak up from behind and snatch the cigarette.

“Hey,” Ben yells. When he sees me, he removes his earbuds and draws me in for a kiss. I throw up in my brain. He tastes like smoke. “You didn’t reply to the text. I was waiting for you to call or text.”

I raise my hand when he reaches for the cigarette. “This is not good for you. And smoking is not as sexy as you think it is.”

“Is that correct?”

“Yes, Benny.”

“So, it’s a little bit sexy?” he quips. I elbow him in his ribs, and he doubles over, pretending to be hurt. He puckers his lips and shakes his head when I try to pull him up. The boy will find every excuse to make me touch him. Since he’s my new favorite person, I indulge him with a kiss. Dragging me closer to stand between his legs, his hands bracket my hips. “What would you consider sexy?”

“Reading,” I mutter.

“Boring,” he replies.

I stare at the cigarette. From the length, I can tell Ben just started smoking it. “This is boring.”

“Ever smoked before?” he asks. I reply in the negative. He pries the cigarette from me and tucks it between my teeth. My eyes convey my worry and confusion as he lights up the end. I should spit out the stick, but excitement builds low in my belly. “Just inhale and exhale. Don’t swallow.”

The first try is a mess. I swallow. A bout of cough racks my body, my eyes water, and Ben rubs my back. His eyes shine with laughter, but his lips pull into a line. “Don’t you even dare laugh.”

But Ben does. I smack his shoulder. Laughing, he retrieves the cigarette and blows out rings of smoke. That looks easy. He hands it over for me to try again, and I succeed in exhaling without choking on my spit. We take turns dragging a puff. Ben finishes it and stomps on the residue.

“You are a bad influence, Benny,” I tell him. I squat to pick up the crushed piece on the floor. I don’t want any evidence lying around if anyone looks close enough. “And that tasted like shit.”

He chuckles. I place the burned cigarette on his palm, and he pockets it. “Yeah.”

“Then why do you keep smoking it?”

“Bad habits die hard, I guess.”

His hands disappear behind him and reappear again with two mint gums on his palms. I pop one into my mouth, and he does the same. Smoking was never on my bucket list, but I’m glad to tick it off. It’s something I’ll never repeat. It’s just awful. I lace our elbows and walk him to our door.

“Where’s your novel?” I ask as I push the door open.

We have to review the entire novella for Literature class. It’s due on Friday. Since tomorrow is Thanksgiving, a holiday, and Ben will be home with his mom, we only have today to conclude it.

Ben taps his temple. “In here.”

I make a sound at the back of my throat, and his chest only seems to puff in pride. Arrogance runs in his veins. I drag him up to my room without giving him a chance to inspect our living room. My parents aren’t home, so we have an hour or two max before Mom shows up. I shove Ben inside the room and rush to the kitchen to grab the batch of cookies I made for this visit.

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