Page 101 of Loved By The Bad Boy

Calum opens the door to our school and the tempo of the song changes. It’s louder. I stick close to Ben, and my feet falter when Calum raises a hand to stop us. He stands in front of us, phone raised with his flash turned on to capture all our faces. “Selfie time,” he yells above the music.

I make a face at his camera. Mira leans on Imani, and Ben slides his arm around my waist. We strike different poses. It’s easy for me to call out pose ideas to our small group. I have gotten better at ‘looking good for the camera’ since that photoshoot with Jon and others that followed.

After more naughty and silly poses, we resume our journey to the school’s cafeteria.

Anticipation thrums through my veins as the music sounds closer. I move my body off the beat. Ben slows down for Mira, Imani, and Calum to walk ahead. A thin curtain separates us from the event, and the disco lights bounce off the floor. Ben brings my hands to rest on his shoulders.

“Are you ready to go in?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat to chase the nerves. His eyes twinkle with delight. “I am. Are you?”

“Yep.”

The soft fabric of the curtain brushes my face as we take our first step into the orderly chaos. Mira waves us over to a table with her purse. Empty red cups litter the table. I steal another look around. They transformed the cafeteria into something else, a suitable place for teenagers to party.

A material embroidered with our school’s name covers one part of the wall, and a wooden pulpit occupies a corner of the stage. Colorful lights swirl over our faces, the dancefloor, and the stage. Ben pulls out a seat for me and takes one next to me. His hand is on mine almost instantly.

Mira returns to our table with a bottle and empties a red liquid into five cups. From the table she brought the bottle, there’s another keg of what I don’t know and probably shouldn’t be drinking.

She distributes the cups and raises hers for a toast. “To us pretty motherfuckers of Crescent High, or whatever the fuck is the school’s name.” The others beam, and I laugh into my palm. At least she didn’t say bitches. I think I’ll miss her. “One more week in this shithole, and we are done.”

Our cups touch. Crescent High is not a shithole, but that’s an argument I’m not willing to have. Mira sips from her cup and sways her head from left to right to the beat. People troop to the front to dance. So far, there are no teachers, but I’m sure they will show up. If they haven’t already.

Ben taps my knee. “Are you going to drink that?”

We stare at my untouched cup, and I raise it to my lips. I take a sip and nod my appreciation. A shudder zings through me as the drink burns a path to my belly. Ben laughs. I take another sip.

It’s sweet at first but gives way to an alcoholic tang. “I like it, Benny,” I tell him. “I like you.”

“You love me,” he corrects. “And I love you too.”

The student body president walks to the stage, and the volume of the music reduces. Amanda gets a few hoots and cheers while testing the microphone. Once her speech begins, I tune her out.

Ben and I take selfies with my phone. He grins in all the pictures. The squeak of chairs draws our attention back to Amanda when everyone at our table but us stands. My brows draw together.

“They are about to call out the prom king,” Imani explains. Calum might win. I think he will.

We join the crowd that forms on the dancefloor. Amanda raises the envelope for us to see it’s still sealed, then rips it open. A minute or two passes, and she hasn’t said a word. Mira mumbles something about a slowpoke. You would think she was about to announce the next US president.

“The prom king of this year is…” A hush falls on the hall. She giggles. I giggle. Ben frowns. Calum runs a hand through his hair, and Ben pats his shoulder. “Our prom king is Calum Dissick.”

Imani claps the loudest. Mira injects two fingers into her mouth and whistles. Ben and I cheer him as he heads to the stage. He is all smiles when the crown is placed on his head. They call out his queen, a girl I don’t know. Calum finishes up his gratitude speech and rushes down to meet us.

I tap his crown. It’s smooth to the touch. Smiling, he removes it to place it on my head. My eyes find Ben, and he gives me a thumbs up.

“Looks good,” Ben says. And goes on to take a picture of me.

The DJ turns up the music, and the crowd goes wild again. We make way for Calum’s first dance with his queen. Ben disappears and returns shortly with our cups. I nurse the drink throughout the first song while watching the prom couple dance. Ben stays behind me, his hand on my belly.

As soon as their dance ends, students scramble to the dancefloor. Imani and Mira are out of sight. I almost drop my cup when Ben rocks his front against my ass. More people gather. They form a big circle, taking turns to dance in the center. Ben sticks to my side because I’m an awful dancer.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join them?” I ask.

“Na, I’m good. I’m right where I should be.”

That would have been sweet if he wasn’t constantly moving. I turn and actually try to move my hips. I hope when I watch the footage of this event months from now, I don’t cringe or look like a dancing potato. Ben laughs. I stretch a hand to him, but he shakes his head. I want him to have fun. It’s our last prom, the last time we will get to do this. To hell with my horrible dancing skills.

“Don’t leave me hanging,” I sing.

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