Page 12 of Loved By The Bad Boy

“Why do you keep asking these silly questions?”

They are not silly. They are too raw, and I am not ready to bring down the walls surrounding my heart. No one wants to be reminded of the boy who broke their heart every chance they get. I’m so over him.

“I’m trying to get to know you,” Calum whispers.

I hold up a finger. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Don’t try to know me. Don’t try to replace Ben. “I like you, Tessa Grace Mower.”

My heart doesn’t riot like it would have if it were Ben talking. Calum is the guy Mom would be glad I dated. He doesn’t skip classes. He is in the school band, and he also loves New York.

“Please don’t like me, Calum.”

“Wouldn’t it be fair to let me decide my feelings for you?”

It wouldn’t because my heart still wants Benny. I hate him, but my heart desires him. I hate my heart for liking him. If I can switch off my feelings for him, I will. I don’t want to like anybody.

“I’m not over him,” I admit.

“That’s okay, Tessa. I’ll wait.” Calum grins from ear to ear, and I don’t have the guts to break his heart. The pad of his thumb moves across my cheek in slow motion. I don’t know how or when we became friends, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship. “I like how I feel around you.”

Feelings are stupid, and he will only get hurt in the end. I don’t voice my thoughts, but a breath of relief escapes me when the bell rings. The door opens, and students file in. Mira and Imani don’t attend the same classes we do, so the only time we see them is during lunch or at the gym.

Our teacher walks in with our tests, and a unified groan echoes in the classroom. Mrs. Miller loves impromptu tests. The last one was yesterday. I honestly like them because they distract me from reality, but everyone doesn’t, so I have to pretend to hate them as much as they do.

Her gaze travels around the class, and she shakes her head in disappointment. Holding up a sheet, she says, “Calum Dissick?” My seat partner lifts his head. Her frown deepens into a scowl that makes her appear older. She whips her hair over one shoulder. “Don’t just sit there, young man.”

Mrs. Miller can be mean. The class snickers, except me. Calum jumps out of his seat to accept it. His face pales when he receives it. I stiffen when she calls my name, walking sluggishly to the front.

I slightly relax when she offers me a small smile, and a lazy grin breaks out on my lips at the number circled in red ink at the top of my sheet. I take my seat, and Calum hides his script.

He motions to the folded paper in my hand. “Let me see.”

My gaze lingers on the pocket his test disappeared into. Smiling, I shove mine into my bag and stick my tongue out. If he didn’t do well, showing him my score when I got ninety-seven makes no sense. Without a boy to worry about, I can put more energy into my studies and future.

Mrs. Miller continues distributing papers with a scowl determined by how well you fared in the test when the door creaks open. The class falls silent, and a boy wearing a baseball cap steps in.

I love San Franciscois written on the cap. He must be dumb to wear that in New York. He turns his back to us before we catch a view of his face. Identifying him with that cap hiding most of his face is impossible. He removes his cap, and the class starts talking at once. The boy must be new. I have been the new girl for a week and counting, and I am ready to give up that title. The new boy offers Mrs. Miller a note, and my heart stops when he raises his head in my direction.

“Do you know him?” Calum whispers.

I jump when Calum touches my arm, and his eyes narrow to slits. What was his question? Right. “No. I don’t.”Liar, liar, pants on fire. Of course I know him. I clear my throat to rid myself of the nerves. I am still an awful liar, and he is not helping by staring. “Why would you think that?”

He shrugs. “Because he’s staring at you. Only you, Tessa.”

Calum takes my hand in his, maybe to mark his territory, and I swallow the thick lump growing in my throat. His fingers trace the lines on my palms. Instead of butterflies, nerves swarm my body. I withdraw my hand from his grasp with the excuse of needing a note from my backpack.

I feel those familiar blue eyes on me, but I don’t look up. What’s Ben doing in my new school?

Mrs. Miller claps to get our attention, and the class quietens. My palms moisten, and my pencil almost slips between my fingers. Calum sends a reassuring smile my way. I swipe clammy palms over my legs. Just a few minutes after his arrival, I am already a mess. Ben shouldn’t be here.

“Class. We have a new student,” Mrs. Miller booms. I don’t like her sometimes. She can be too loud. I continue doodling on my note, and when I look down to see what I’ve done, I rip out the page. If I want to forget him, scribbling his name on my note won’t help. “Introduce yourself.”

Ben coughs into his fist, and the action draws curious glances. My jaw ticks when I catch the girl in the first row ogling him. She doesn’t even know if he’s single. What if he’s attracted to boys?

“My name is Benjamin Carter. My friends call me Ben.” I raise my head at that moment, and our eyes meet. “My girlfriend calls me Benny.” I flush. My cheeks redden, and I pray for the ground to swallow me when all heads turn to find out who or what he’s staring at. “It’s good to be here.”

It’s not good. Ben belongs in San Francisco.

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