Page 31 of Loved By The Bad Boy

Mom touches my cheek. She is happy. It takes only a little to make her happy. I prefer this to those dark, lonely days. Her fingers slide into mine, her excitement contagious. Feeling left out, Asher draws close to us with a pout. Mom laughs but wraps her free arm around his shoulders.

“We missed you, Benny,” she murmurs.

“I missed you too.”

Bart nods to acknowledge my presence but doesn’t stop stirring. He’s invested. Mom leads me away from the kitchen so the men—mostly Bart—can finish cooking. Josef hardly cooks. Asher will keep them company. We settle down in the living room. The TV is tuned to a cooking show. I grab the remote and switch off the TV. I don’t want any distractions when talking to her.

Crossing her legs, she flicks a strand of hair from my face. “Why didn’t you tell us, Benny?”

My heart skips. I wipe my hands on my sweatpants.

“Tell you what?” I whisper.

A sigh escapes her. I honestly don’t know what she is on about. Her shoulders sag, and she grips my hand between hers. She is scaring the shit out of me.

“That you got into SAS, Benny. It’s a good thing.”

“What?” I was waitlisted. Mom looks on, expecting me to say something in my defense. What will I say? It feels like I’m someone else. I never used to care for college. It pains me to be the deliverer of bad news since she was rooting for me, but it is what it is. “I didn’t get into SAS.”

“You got in, Benny,” Mom replies with so much confidence. My lips pull into a thin line. Josef has connections, but I wanted to get in on my own, by merits. “Hold on. I will be right back.”

My eyes follow her as she rushes out of the living room. I understand they love me and are trying to make up for the past, but I don’t want them pulling strings for me. If they want to do that, they should do it for NYU. I didn’t get into SAS. I didn’t get an email. If I did, I would have known.

Heart racing, I dash upstairs to get my phone. Mom is waiting for me with her phone on her lap when I return. Her inbox folder is open. There’s a mail from SAS to Benjamin Louis Carter. I rub my eyes and read again. Though the email is forwarded from mine, the content is the same.

It’s a broadcast email to her and Josef. I don’t remember reading or seeing this before now.

“You didn’t know?” she whispers. Her question stings. If I did, she would have been the first one to know. We have grownthatclose since I spoke to Josef. “Asher showed us from his laptop.”

Because I am that stubborn kid who refused to accept a gift from his stepfather, I was forced to make my applications on Asher’s laptop. He only released it amid complaints and groans. I had to sign into my email during the process, and I did it on the laptop. I must have forgotten to sign out.

“He found it in your bin,” Mom continues. I can’t be blamed for mass deleting shitty emails, but this one was a mistake. In a lighter voice, she adds, “How could you have missed this, Benny?”

The news feels surreal, and a part of me keeps expecting her to laugh and call this a prank. Did Gracie get into NYU? Wereallyhave to talk. I return her phone with a shy smile. “No idea.”

“First things first, accept the admission immediately. God, you got a full scholarship to SAS.”

Pride coats her voice, and my chest puffs. I did it. My excitement lasts only a few minutes. If I’m all the way in San Francisco and Gracie is in New York, how will we make our relationship work? I glance at Mom, and some of my worries abate. I easily picture her among her rich friends, telling them about her son who got a full scholarship until they are tired of hearing about it.

“Is your laptop here?” It’s in Matt’s room. Asher brought it to me when he noticed the shift in our relationship. “If you don’t send them a reply today, they will give the spot to someone else.”

I reread the email. They sent it the day I left for New York. If I don’t accept it today, they will assume I have forfeited my spot and give it to someone else on the list. The thought almost sounds appealing. But I can’t lose my girl and college. I tap on the link, and it leads me to the school’s portal. Mom is right beside me every step of the way as I fill in the correct details.

“Congratulations,” Mom says. She is excited. I have mixed feelings, but I mask those pretty well. I’m used to putting up a blank face in front of her. “How is New York, huh? Settling in already?”

What she really means is:How are things with you and Gracie?If it were good, she would have known. I take her hand. I like to hold her when we discuss. Her touch is calming. “It’s not bad.”

She catches on quickly. “Is it that bad?”

“Yeah. She has a boyfriend,” I say with a slight shrug like it doesn’t bother me.

It bothers me a hell lot.

“But I like it here.” Mom nods, but her face says something else. I don’t want to sulk anymore. Not today. “I’m part of a music band. I handle their social media pages.” I take out my phone to show her the official Instagram page of Mending Hearts. A video is their last post. “I took this.”

It’s the edited version of yesterday’s gig. Gracie hasn’t sent hers. She doesn’t know I spent a few sleepless nights trying to improve my editing skills, so our vogue shoots would turn out well. Mom watches the clips and some other videos of them singing in the basement of Sam’s house. That boy is weird. He hardly talks to any of us during rehearsals, and the others are fine with it.

“These are pretty good,” Mom says.

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