Page 2 of Loved By The Bad Boy

She laughs. “Scouts honor.”

Does that apply to her if she’s a girl? I watch her paint a red flamingo or what looks like it.

“I think you should call her, Ben. I also think we should st-st-stop being friends if it affects your relationship with her.” Maybe because it’s her, but I nod in agreement. Coming from her, it feels like my days of being a self-imposed guardian angel are over. I should call her. “If my soulmate asked me to pick him over my friend, I think I would pick him. It feels like the right thing to do.”

A sigh escapes me, and I run tired hands over my face. Olivia resumes painting. I am not upset that she will pick someone else over me. “How will you know when you meet your soulmate?”

“I don’t know. I guess you’ll laugh the way you always do when you are around her. I’ve known you for longer, but I never hear you laugh like that. When she walks into a room, you smile like an idiot.”

“How do idiots smile?” I cut in.

“I don’t know. I’m not an idiot, and I’m probably saying shit right now,” she adds. “I have not found mine. I don’t think there is a soulmate for me in this world, but I think Gracie is yours.”

Soulmates sound big, like a lifetime commitment. But the thought of spending a lifetime with Gracie actually makes me happy. We’ll just have to work on her insecurities, and we’ll be okay.

Olivia drops her brush and hugs herself while smiling at the half-finished product on the canvas. “I think I’ll be fine now.”

She will be fine if her mother doesn’t slack again. I ruffle her hair to annoy her.

“What’s your story, anyway?” she asks.

What’s my story? Gracie should be the first one to hear it. I rotate my shoulders, and she nods knowingly. She knows I won’t tell her anything, so she resumes painting. In the ensuing silence, the sound of her brush meeting the canvas is comforting.

“Call her,” Olivia says when we are about to leave the classroom. “I will be alright on my own.”

* * *

The front of Gracie’s house looks deserted. Mrs. Mower’s car is gone, same with Gracie’s. My palms grow clammy, but I don’t overthink the situation as I jog up the stairs and knock.

No answer.

The door to their neighbor’s house opens, and a red-haired, lanky kid steps out. I don’t recognize him, but he waves me over with a sense of urgency. He meets me halfway. I tower over him by a few inches, amused by the bangs he struggles to keep out of his eyes. He reminds me of Asher.

He squints. “Are you Benjamin Carter?”

“That’s me,” I respond. A note of uncertainty creeps into my voice when he nods like he knows something I don’t. My heart dips, and fear punches a hole into my chest. I don’t like this one bit. He backs away from me, and I scream at his retreating figure. “Yo. Hey, what’s up? I’m Ben.”

The door to his house shuts after him, and I shake my head in annoyance. As usual, Gracie’s phone number is not reachable. Maybe New York has a poor network. Has she already left? She would have told me, right? Do I have that right? I am about to return to her house when his door swings open. He grins from the entrance. The kid is weird, but I need to know what he knows.

My lips twitch when he comes out with a box under his armpit. He stops a foot away from me and offers me the box. I don’t take it. I am not about to start accepting packages from strangers.

Noticing my hesitance, he says, “Tessa asked me to give this to you. For Benjamin Carter.”

My heart flutters at the mention of my girlfriend’s name. It will take more than words to win her heart. I think I broke it. I broke her heart and ended up breaking mine. But I swear I’ll fix it. She forgave me once. She can forgive me again. I collect the box from him and motion to her house.

“Where is she?” I shake the box to determine its content, but it is useless. It makes no sound. Whatever Gracie put inside was sealed tight. “I’ve been knocking, but the house looks empty.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. She is probably in New York by now.”

Everything slows down. His mouth moves in slow motion, and my heart beats erratically.

He is lying.

“What?”

“New York,” he replies. “They left yesterday morning, I think.”

I heard him the first time, but the second time confirms it. His words expand the hole growing in my chest. I stagger, and the box drops to the floor. Something inside me shatters. I think it’s my heart. The red head gives me an annoyed look, picks up the box, and slams it against my chest.

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