Page 6 of Loved By The Bad Boy

“Nothing,” I reply too fast.

Mom is in front of me in an instant. Gripping my shoulders, she inspects my face for a diagnosis. Sometimes, she forgets she’s not the doctor of the house. I try to make my smile more authentic.

“You’re crying,” she says as she walks us to the bed.

I am? I dab the back of my palm over my cheeks. Great. I’ll walk into school with puffy eyes. How best to reinvent myself than this? At least I won’t be the zebra-skin Tessa. I will be the big, puffy eyes Tessa. Mom sits first and pulls me down to sit beside her. She doesn’t have to worry.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Speaking into the sleeve of my dress, I say, “My eyes are just leaking.”

“Just leaking.”

My head moves up and down. “It’s probably the lipstick.”

Her brows furrow. She is already made up and ready for work. Curving a finger under my jaw, she tilts my head to the left, then the right. My brown eyes lock with hers, and she sighs softly.

“Lipsticks don’t make you cry.”

“Not if they are spicy.”

“You are wearing lipgloss, Tessa. What’s wrong?”

Everything.

I lift my legs to the bed, shoes and all, as I curl my arms around my knees and relax my back on the headboard. Mom stares on worriedly. I only need a moment to myself. This will pass. But as soon as I open my mouth, a sob escapes me. I shove my fist into my mouth to keep myself shut, but the dam has burst open, and it doesn’t want to stop. Mom closes in and draws me into a hug.

“It hurts here,” I tell her, touching a hand to my chest. My heart aches, and I don’t know how to fix it. I doubt it’s fixable. I tap a finger to my temple. “And it feels like my head will explode.”

“Aw, baby.” The door opens. Dad must be here. He has to be at the office by eight, and we are wasting his time. I bury my face in her chest so Dad doesn’t have to see me. I promised him I was okay. Mom strokes my hair. “It’s okay to cry. You’re experiencing your first heartbreak.”

It would seem so. Now I know what Juliet felt when she thought her man was dead.

But Ben is not dead. He’s alive, and he chose Olivia.Shut up, Tessa.

“I’ll let the principal know you’ll be coming in next week,” Mom says into my hair. I nod against her chest. On Monday, I’ll retry the makeup. I look up to offer her a tiny smile, and she chuckles. The only reason I didn’t resume earlier is because they wanted me to be fine, but that didn’t work out so well. “It’s a Friday anyway, and you can resume on Monday. Don’t worry. No one is going out today. Not me, not your dad. Your dad will cancel his appointment, right, honey?”

Dad points a finger at his chest, his face paling. I’ve only been here a few days and am already ruining his schedule. Does that bother me? Only a little. His gaze drifts to my face, and I pout.

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll call them at the office to let them know I have chlamydia.”

“Chlamydia?” Mom shrieks. She lets go of me to direct all her annoyance to her husband. Dad looks to me for help. We are all terrible liars in this house. “Find a better excuse, Mr. Mower.”

Four

Lett’s—no,scratch that—Noah’s text comes in when I’m preparing for class. I changed the name on the Sony from Lett to Noah to avoid any confusion. Someone knocks on my door. I know it’s Mom. She doesn’t want me to be late on my second—first day of school, but I don’t give enough fucks about anything right now to be worried about lateness. Well, I do give a fuck. A half fuck.

“I’ll be out in a bit,” I scream at the door. Plopping on the bed, I open the message from Noah.

Noah: Sometimes I don’t blame her for not believing me. I used to lie a lot, do stuff to hurt myself, then blame it on her. I just wanted us to go back home. So I guess when I told her, she assumed it was one of those lies but it wasn’t. I wanted her to believe me. I really wanted my mother then.

Me:sorry

My response sounds so insensitive, but the truth is, I don’t care. I haven’t cared about anything or anyone since we moved to New York. Mom shares a room with Dad, and I have this place to myself. It’s huge, with enough space for me to wallow in my thoughts and drown in self-misery.

Under normal circumstances, I would have made a video call to show Maria around my room, but this isn’t normal. I haven’t called or returned her calls. I want the school year to end already.

Noah: it’s cool. We finally talked. It was okay.

Me:nice. I’m happy for you.

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