Page 88 of Loved By The Bad Boy

Graduation is one week after prom. Then this is all over. We will each go our separate ways. Imani and Mira want to tour Europe. Calum wants to keep on singing with the boys, no plans in place for college. And I just want to be with Ben. We will be here while they explore the world.

“Sure,” I say. Ben shouldn’t have a problem with that. He and Calum are almost cool now. It will be fun to celebrate as a group before we face life differently. I resume texting Jon, but Mira snatches the phone. I glare at the brunette. It’s weird seeing her in this hair color. “Hey. Give it back.”

Mira holds the phone above her head and sticks out her tongue. Tell me why I shouldn’t put gum in her hair? I stretch my hand for the phone, but she shrugs. A grin spreads her lips as she reads the exchanges with Jon, and I sag against the seat. Mira is an annoying bitch. A bitch I actually like.

“Hi, I’m a photographer for Teen Vogue USA, and what the hell…” Mira’s eyes bulge, she darts me a look, and I grimace. “Holy shit, Tessa! Why are you not panicking? Fuckity fuck. Of all the fuckeries, this is the fuckiest.” And I thought I was weird for making up random insults. Imani honks for us to keep it down. Mira mumbles an apology and continues reading in a louder voice. Annoying human. “How would you like to be on our cover for next month? Double fucking shit.”

“You have to stop screaming like that,” I say.

Mira has the same look my best friend had on her face when I said none of these things interests me. She drops my phone to my lap and shakes her head slowly. If I agree to one picture, it might be the start of many more, and it will draw me into an unfamiliar world. Pictures are not exactly my thing, but maybe they can teach me a few poses. Maria said they have instructors for that.

I clench my hands on my knees and groan. I can’t believe I’m thinking about this, like considering it. I haven’t even told Ben about it.

“Well…” Mira drawls out. Imani parks in front of a house, but none of us steps out. “Are you going to reply? I think you should.”

“What if he’s a fake?”

Mira chuckles. “Right. He’s probably trying to scam you with a verified account. Great going, Tessa.” I roll my eyes, and she does the same. She and Maria will make great friends. Sarcastic and loud. Mira fingers her hair. Imani must have convinced her to dye it back. “Give it a shot.”

“He could have been hacked,” I murmur.

“Reply him, bitch.” I might have feigned offense if I didn’t always call her that in my head. Her head pops between our seats, and she yells like an unhinged demon. “Reply him, you coward.”

“No.”

“Chicken,” she says.

“Pineapple.” She mutters something like:lame.“Unripe potato,” I add.

“What?” Even Imani gives me a look. They hate my insults. Only Ben finds it endearing.

“Unripe potato. You know, a potato that’s not ripe.”

Mira sighs. If I were at the back with her, she would have grabbed my shoulders so I could look into her eyes while she spits fire. She can be scary until she sees blood or hears a baby cry, then she pales. “I know what an unripe potato is, but what does it have to do with this conversation?”

“It’s an insult.”

“How?” the two of them chorus.

Today is the first time they have gotten this curious. Usually, they flow with it. I dial Ben.

“Only Benny will understand,” I say to my phone. When it connects, I say, “Babe, you are on speaker. Can you please explain the theory of all my insults? The theory of random insults.”

My eyes roam the place. It’s unfamiliar. Ben’s voice drags me back to the situation at hand. “Sure, babe.” He clears his throat. Imani pushes her leg over her seat. They are invested. “The theory of Gracie’s insult states that you must put two randoms together to create a single insult.”

I grin like I have won the lottery. “Examples.”

“Wet socks,” he supplies. “Unripe potato.”

“I already said that one, Benny.”

“Unripe pineapple, then.”

“But you called her a pineapple,” Imani murmurs. “It’s only one random.”

“It’s my theory. I can do whatever.” Ben is still on the line. “Alright, Benny. Love you, bye.”

“You two are so fucking weird,” Mira says when the call ends.

---