Page 80 of Loved By The Bad Boy

We have kind of drifted apart. Moving states was partly the reason, but we try. With her busy schedule, it’s hard to reach her sometimes, and I was a bit of a bitch while trying to get over Ben.

I answer the call, and the first thing I hear is a scream. It goes silent, then a loud, “Why are you not online?”

“Because I’m with Ben.”

“Fuck Ben,” she snaps. If only she knows. No, I haven’t told her. That is a physical conversation for her next visit. We would have spent spring break together, but Ben needed me. “I have been texting you all day.” I sit up, and Ben’s hand falls off my shoulder. Maria is dramatic. It’s hard to tell if this is a real emergency or just her being a drama queen. “I need you to open your Instagram.”

“Okay.”

“Do it now, Theresa!”

Ben gives me a worried look. I have no idea what’s happening, either. The call ends before I ask further questions. Ben’s hand stops me from opening the Instagram app. I am breaking the rules.

No phones. No social media.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s kind of important,” I volunteer.

I’m not so much of a social media freak like Maria. Ben isn’t either. It makes us the perfect pair. I haven’t opened my Facebook since deactivating it because they shared a memory of us when I was in myI hate Benphase. I tap on the Instagram icon, and a flood of notifications pours in.

What’s going on?

Most of my Instagram pictures are selfies or abstracts. The last picture isn’t. It’s the only image showing my vitiligo. I posted it for the Vogue challenge but fell in love with my skin along the way. Switching schools and spending this break with Ben has given me tough skin. If he can face his fears after so many years, then I should be able to confront mine. Because now, I am not alone. I have him.

My notification feed is blowing up. I have about ten thousand likes on my last picture. Hold on. I tap on the post to be sure. It’s one of me showing off the white patches on my stomach. What the—?

Under the picture is a short caption talking about vitiligo. VITILIGO IS NOT CONTAGIOUS is the first line, followed by some more paragraphs of research I found online. I ended it by saying it’s my superpower. My mouth goes dry. My hands shake a bit as I tap on the comment section.

There are too many of them. I’m not sure I’ll be able to answer them in a day, that’s if I’ll ever. A particular comment from an empty profile catches my eye. I reread it until it finally sinks in.

If you could change one thing about yourself, would it be your skin condition?

The question doesn’t offend me. I start typing.

No. Vitiligo is not a skin condition, it’s a superpower. I love my body as it is.

I pin the comment so other users will see it and avoid asking the same question. The caption says it all.A patchy loss of skin pigmentation.It doesn’t affect regular life. But I guess people don’t read anymore. I look up to see Ben staring up at me. He was so quiet I would have thought he had left.

Ben plucks me off the seat so I can sit on his lap. His lips press to mine in an almost kiss, and his hands slide under my shirt. I try not to squirm too much since we are still in public, but the look on his face reassures me. He traces those patches I have come to love. They are a part of me. They will always be a part of me, and he loves me for it. If he doesn’t, I will force him to do that.

“I’m proud of you.” My heart does a crazy flip. I bop his nose. “And I love your superpower.”

“I love it too,” I reply. “And it’s all thanks to you.”

My phone vibrates again. We groan. I know it’s Maria before I see the caller; truly, it’s her.

“Have you seen it?” my best friend asks the moment the phone connects with my ear. I have seen the comments and likes, and I don’t know. I’m not as excited as she is. I’m content with just being that simple Gracie who loves Benny. It’s crazy how I can be great at acting yet shy away from any form of spotlight. “You are going to be popular, Tessa.”

“Err… Okay.”

Maria gasps. I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder and push myself up to get a proper kiss from my boyfriend. His fingertips caress my boobs. Ben sends me a silent warning when I wiggle on his lap. Since he forgot to use a condom, he has been careful not to arouse me, except he is with one. Of course, I got the morning-after pill, but he is still freaked out about that day.

I’ll have to get on the pill because sex is so much better without a condom. I stick out my tongue and rotate my hips on the bulge growing under me. Ben pinches my nipple and laughs.

The cough on the other end reminds me the call is still ongoing. She must have been waiting for me to say something. “Look, Maria. I love you, but I am not really interested in stuff like this.”

“Are you crazy? You are not even going to consider it? Theresa Grace Mower.” Well, what am I supposed to answer to that? Acting might make me popular, but I don’t want to rush it. Fame comes with too much pressure and responsibilities. I don’t need that now. “Ben is there, isn’t he? I’ll leave you two for now, but check your DM as soon as you are done with loverboy. Okay?”

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