Page 19 of Loved By The Bad Boy

“Come in,” someone screams from inside. “Nate, let her in. That’s Tessa.”

“Hi,” I say.

The boy glares and walks away. Teenagers. I wipe my feet on the floor mat at the entrance and step in. The interior is dark, and the footsteps of that annoying human as he scurries away fill the silence. Where are they? I hear a sound from below. Trusting my guts, I follow the sound to a door.

“Mira?” I call out.

“In here.”

I push the door open and follow the stairs down to the basement. My mouth hangs open as soon as I walk into the lit area. Based on Mira’s tone, I expected a tiny, rundown area. But this place is spacious. Abstract paintings hang on the wall, with drums and a microphone stand cramped in one corner of the room. The gray rug muffles my steps as I near them. Mira winks. Imani waves.

“Where are the others?”

“Calum is stuck in traffic. He will be here soon. Lucas is skipping today’s practice,” Imani says.

What about Ben? If she’s waiting for me to ask, I won’t. She offers me a stool, and we both jump as a sharp noise cuts through the air. Mira flashes us a smile and murmurs a sheepish apology.

Clutching the microphone, Mira whispers into it, “Testing. Testing. One. Two.”

“Aren’t we going to bug the people upstairs?” I ask, jutting a finger at the ceiling.

“It’s fine. We do this here all the time. No one is home except for that riffraff and his brother.”

I’m guessing the riffraff is Nate, which I solemnly agree to the choice of insult, and the brother is Sam. Shouldn’t he already be here? The door to the basement flies open. Someone rushes down the stairs and switches off two of the three lights glued to the wall. This group isnotweird at all.

Sam, I’m really hoping it’s Sam, stands in the middle of the basement. He cocks his head in my direction, and I take an involuntary step back. His gaze lingers longer than necessary. I wave out of nervousness, and his dark brows narrow over green eyes. He rakes a hand over curly brown hair.

“Who the hell are you?” he asks.

Nate probably picked up his riffraff behavior from his brother. Imani nearly falls out of her chair with laughter. Mira is too busy with the microphone to come to my aid. I guess I have to save myself. My hand lifts in another awkward wave, but his smothering gaze has me lowering it to my side.

“Tessa.” I clear my throat and try to meet his gaze head-on. “I’m Tessa. I’m part of the band.”

“Since when?” He turns to the girls. “Since when? Why didn’t no one say anything?”

“Ignore the grump. Everyone is annoying to Sam. Just bring out your phone and take pictures,” Imani says, jumping out of her stool to arrange the band equipment. Sam slumps down on a chair behind a drum and tosses a stick in the air. I hope Lucas is much nicer. “Jesus, where is Ben?”

Imani’s index finger shoots up to signify silence. She extracts her phone from her pocket and smiles at the screen. After a few seconds of speaking to the caller, she slides it back into her pocket.

“Ben is here. Go get him.”

“Excuse me?” I reply.

“Ben is here. Go get him,” Sam repeats in the most monotone voice I’ve ever heard.

Mira is lost on our conversation and, possibly, the entire surrounding. I walk the short distance to Imani and cross my arms on my chest. She lifts a brow. God, Mira was right. She’s really bossy.

“I found my way here. No one came to help.”

“Ah. So, we shouldn’t help others because no one helped you?”

I can’t argue with that logic, and she knows it. I stomp out of the room, my footsteps loud, angry, and childish. There’s no Nate in sight. The knock on the door makes me hurry. I pause to pat my hair and smoothen the front of my top. What color of lipstick did I use? Purple. Ben prefers red.

The knock comes again. I murmur, “Coming,” and pull it open.

Ben blinks, surprised to see me, then a grin breaks out on his lips. He smells good, and I almost lean in to confirm the scent. Okay, I’m in big trouble. He lowers the hand still poised for a knock.

“Gracie,” he whispers.

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