Page 87 of Loved By The Bad Boy

“So… when Benny’s mom remarried,” I start. Mom steals a glance at me. Yeah, I know. She just warned me about Ben, and I’m starting my story with him. I ignore her glare and continue. They go through different emotions as I narrate it to them. Mom claps a hand over her mouth when I list the things his stepsister did to him. Dad can’t hide his shock. They are gawking as I tell them about the trials, but I don’t mention the spat with Theresa. “I couldn’t leave him behind, Mom.”

“Is he okay?” is Mom’s first question.

“Yeah, he’s very okay,” I breathe. The result of the trial crashes over me, and my hands vibrate between my legs. I fully process it now. Tears cloud my vision, but they are happy tears. We did it. We put that bitch where she belongs. Hopefully, someone treats her the same. “She’s going to be in jail for a while.”

“Are you okay?” Mom whispers. She’s off Dad’s lap, watching me. “How do you feel?”

“I’m happy… and sad. I’m sorry I made you cry.”

Mom laughs. She scoots to the floor to join me. “You are still grounded.”

“Till eternity, I know.”

When her arms wrap around me, I relax. “You are an adult now, Tessa. We can’t ground you,” she says with a laugh. I shake my head. I don’t mind. She doesn’t ease her hold on me. I don’t want her to. “But you need to understand that we expect more from you now. If you will stay here, you must follow the rules, and we have none other than what you already know. Always keep us updated. We believe we have raised you right, and we ask that you trust and talk to us like an adult.”

I break out of the hug. “You are talking as if I’m going away,” I murmur.

Mom only smiles. Opening her arms, she screams, “Family hug.”

Thirty-Seven

It’s prom season.Everyone is talking and excited about it. Their dresses. Their dates. The after-party. I’ve never had a prom date beyond Maria, so I don’t relate to the excitement. Plus, it’s only a reminder that I have less time with Ben. Maria thinks we will be okay. I think so too, but I can’t help those seeds of doubt planted in my mind. Speaking of Maria, I need to call her. But I won’t. Not right now. Maria Vega will give me another lecture on wasting my popularity.

A popularity I never asked for. Apparently, if Vogue and other high-end magazines repost your pictures, many people will grow interested in you.

Photographers.

Modeling agencies.

Teen magazines.

Mom has people calling her work line. Dad gets calls on his personal line.

It’s creepy, but Maria thinks not. In her humble opinion, I should jump on this bandwagon to fandom. I think I’ll pass. Or not. I don’t know. I like the idea. I just hate that the attention is because of my vitiligo, not necessarily because they think I look good or did something special.

Footsteps accompany mine as I shuffle to the exit and open the back doors. The afternoon air caresses my skin. I stretch out my arms and breathe it in. Imani laughs and jerks me toward her car. I’m giggling as she drags my arm like an overused doll. I used to think I hated school, but it was just the people there who made me feel that way. I love school. I love studying. Having friends like Imani, Mira, and Calum with a loving boyfriend like Ben makes learning different.

Imani unlocks her car for us to get in. We are having a sleepover at her place. Mira will join us later. It’s my first girls’ night out. Olivia never spent the night, and Maria doesn’t count because she is my best friend, and we did almost everything together. Imani speeds out of the school, driving recklessly like she has a spare life in her trunk or the backpack on the backseat.

The breeze whips through my hair, sending it all over my face. I hit the button on my side of the car, and the window rolls up. “You need to slow down.”

“Hmm,” is all Imani says, eyes focused on the road.

Whenever I think Mira is the wild one, Imani proves me wrong by doing something silly or unexpected. She changes gears. The car speeds up for another second, then slows to a normal pace. My heart hammers against my ribcage. I clutch my chest, refusing to let go of the seatbelt. She is insane.

“I will tell Ben you tried to kill his girlfriend.”

Imani laughs. But she doesn’t pull any funny stunts for the rest of the ride to the store. We arrive there, and the car stops long enough for Mira to get inside. I turn to Imani, and she shrugs. She told me we had to get sleepover stuff, but she forgot to include that the stuff was a grown human.

My phone buzzes with a message from one Jon Han on Instagram. A professional photographer. Usually, I wouldn’t bother to reply. I do more blocking and deleting these days, but Mira and Imani are going on and on about their plans for prom, so I tap on his text. Prom is weeks away, but you would think it was tomorrow based on how they sound. Jon replies almost immediately.

Okay. That’s not weird at all.

“Are you and Ben going to be available?” Mira asks. Her head pokes between the front seats. She chews her gum really loud, making bubbles out of it. One day, I’ll put her gum in her hair.

“Well… I don’t know.” I really don’t. Ben hasn’t asked me to prom or mentioned it, and I have no interest in asking him. If he doesn’t ask me, then fine. He is automatically my date. “Why?”

“Imani and I were thinking we could do something together as a group.” Her voice takes on a sad note, and a bitter smile slips to my lips. They have made the semester lively. “For the last time.”

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