Page 71 of Broken By the Bad Boy

“Gracie,” he says. Our foreheads touch. His blue eyes bore into mine, and I look down at our entwined hands. Bringing my knuckles to his lips, he murmurs, “Alright. After school, yeah?”

I nod because we both need that reassurance. “Yeah,” I reply.

“We have drama practice. You can tell me after.” He barks out a fake laugh. “I am scared.”

Me too.

“Don’t be.” I push him gently and step away from him. “We have to go, or we will be late.”

Ben takes my hand like the dutiful boyfriend he is and walks me to the front of my class. I don’t get a kiss on my lips but on my forehead. I wave at his retreating figure until he turns the corner to his class, and my shoulders slump. My school choice will break his heart again. We might not even be together by March.

The class goes by fast. I don’t pay attention. When the bell for the last class rings, I am the last one to step out. I stop at the foot of the stairs. A few more steps and I’ll be in the hall. I turn around and use the long route to buy some time. My phone pings with Ben’s text, but I ignore it.

Unfortunately, I reach the hall faster than I planned. I peek in through the small window on the door. Ben is inside, alongside Whitney and some other students that were here with us last year. My boyfriend scowls at his phone. I push the door open. His head raises, and his frown disappears.

When I’m near Ben’s seat, he pouts. “You’re late.” I mumble an apology, and he pats his legs for me to sit. I shake my head. “But I missed you.” My gaze darts to the door. “She is not here yet.”

But she will be soon, and I don’t want to be caught on his lap. “No, Benny.”

He sighs in resignation. “You’re so stubborn.”

I lower myself to the seat beside him and pinch his cheeks. “But you love me like that.”

His lips pucker. “Yep. I love my Gracie.”

Someone clears their throat. Miss Jota. She stares at me with a smile and climbs the stage. All heads turn to her. This is our first meeting of the year, and we haven’t gotten a date for the play.

“Welcome back.” A cheer breaks out from the boys behind us. Miss Jota smiles. I missed her and all the stage moments with Ben. “How was the break?” She points to one student, who rambles on about his rad holiday. Good for him. When he’s done, she nods. “Anyway, back to business.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the boys’ chorus.

I roll my eyes, and Ben chuckles. He might have joined in if I wasn’t here. His arm drops behind my seat, and a soft moan escapes me when his hand slides down my ass. He avoids my gaze when I throw him a warning look but squeezes my butt. I press my legs together, and he snickers.

Maybe I should have worn tighter pants. Ben retracts his hand wordlessly. My frown falls when I feel a pair of eyes on me. Miss Jota. Her hands are folded on her belly like a disgruntled mother.

“Yes, Tessa?” she calls. Me? What did I do? I clear my throat. Ben’s hand disappears from my leg. “Yes, you. What do you think?” I don’t know what to think. I was not listening. Her eyes narrow at my boyfriend, and she points at a seat in the back row. “Ben. Go sit down there. Now, where was I?”

Ben grudgingly obeys. He dumps his bag on the floor with a thud that causes the students around him to laugh. I send him an apologetic look once Miss Jota starts talking about the play. It’ll hold on Valentine’s week to suit the theme of love. Parents will be present, so we are expected to give our best. She goes on and on about the love play, which is ironic since Ben and I die in the end.

I raise my hand, and she stops talking. “Yes, Tessa?”

“But the play is a tragedy. They both die.” Someone chuckles. Maybe Ben. “What’s lovely about it?”

Miss Jota shrugs. “Nothing. But life itself is a tragedy.”

Ben snickers. I squint, and he throws his hands up in surrender.

“Any other questions?” Her eyes roam over everyone in the room. We shake our heads. “In that case…” She’s halfway off the stage when she pauses. “I almost forgot.” She pulls out a crumpled flyer from her pocket. The prints are hard to read from here. “Has anyone here heard of SAS?”

The silence lingers for a minute or two, and no one answers. Miss Jota returns to the center of the stage. “Tessa, have a look and pass it to everyone.” I hurry to collect it from her and frown. It’s a new college in town. Not so new since they will clock five years in March. “SAS is an art school. All forms of art.”

San Francisco Art School.

My brows knit when I spot the college’s location at the bottom of the flyer. Ben stares at me worriedly until I smile. The school is forty minutes away from here. If I’m a student there, I will see Ben at least every weekend or maybe more if we are both willing to make the sacrifice. I push the thought out before it takes form. It’s New York for me. New York or nowhere else.

“Every year, SAS offers scholarships to six students, and this year is no different,” Miss Jota says. I nod. Not because I am interested but because everyone else is nodding. Ben looks interested as he turns over the flyer. “Their new dean will be here to watch the play. You cannot disappoint him.”

The atmosphere changes, and we all nod. “Applications are open until the end of next month, and I am willing to put in a recommendation for any of you.” Our heads bob in unison, the flyer gets back to me, and I keep it. “You can go home and think about it. Practice will resume tomorrow.”

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