Page 85 of Loved By The Bad Boy

Maria:You’re popular!!!

Another message enters. It’s a GIF followed by theyou… will… be… popularsound. Not funny. She highlights a picture from the bunch she sent. I didn’t download it, so I do it now. Vogue USA shared my post on their Instagram story with my reply to that comment as their caption.

Okay. What is going on?

I pinch my cheeks to be sure it’s real. Ben looks at me, but his phone rings before he can talk. Matt barrels into the waiting room with his hair all over his face. Prick. He bends to catch his breath, and I scoff. Ben walks ahead of me. They exchange heated words for minutes, and Matt sighs.

Seconds later, Matt walks over to me, arms wide open for a hug. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

He kept us waiting for thirty-seven minutes. We would have been better off getting an Uber, but we needed more time together. Plus, I’m scared to face them. Mom would have been waiting for us, not the other way around. He tries to pry my bag from me, and the scowl I direct his way has him stepping back. I’m antsy about meeting my parents. Waiting here only worsened my mood.

“Tessa, let me carry it.” Matt drags the suitcase handle out of my hand, and I let him because I don’t want to argue with him. Plus, Ben bribed me with a kiss to my cheek. “How was the trip?”

“Fine,” I answer.

Ben keeps the door open for us, scowling at Matt, who spares us an apologetic smile. We bound to Matt’s car. None of us help with loading the luggage into the trunk. We hear his exaggerated grunts and groans but sit tight in the backseat, our heads reclined on the seat as we hold hands.

It feels good to be back here.

“I think I really like New York,” Ben says.

It’s Ben’s first comment about the state. I can’t help smiling. The distance might make or break our relationship, but I want to believe it will strengthen us. I lean over, my lips skimming his cheek.

“I love it here,” I murmur.

Ben laughs. It’s so easy to picture us living here instead of San Francisco, but that’s for the future. Matt enters the car and slams the door. Drama king. I stick out my tongue, and he flips his middle finger. He turns on the radio, eases the car into a lazy crawl, and gradually picks up speed.

The nerves return as the paths grow familiar. In minutes, I’ll be home. Ben senses my anxiety and hoists me onto his lap so I’ll straddle him. His lips pucker for a kiss, and I press my mouth on his. He kisses me hard, then softly. But the kiss doesn’t silence my thoughts, and my chest sags.

Ben’s arms circle my waist. “Babe, I can come with you. I think you should let me go home with you.”

We already had this conversation. Well, we tried to. “Nope. I need to do this on my own.”

“But you were there for me.”

This is not a “help me, so I help you in return” scheme. It’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do for each other. I curl my fingers under his jaw, my eyes hardening so he knows I’m serious. “This is different. I don’t think they will be happy to see you. You’re the guy who took their daughter away.”

Ben laughs. It’s the most pleasant sound I have heard today, and I heard a lot. Matt honks to remind us of his presence. The other cars on the highway toot their horns as well, and a honking game starts. Matt is weird.

“Fair enough,” Ben says when the madness quiets. I trace the curve of his brows. I finally got to fix them into shape before we left. “But I didn’t take their daughter. She came willingly with me.”

“And I’ll do it again if I have to,” I say against his lips.

“Cut it out, you two,” Matt interrupts.

“Hater,” Ben says.

“Lover,” Matt retorts.

Lame. I don’t hate Matt, but I am still pissed he kept us waiting. Plus, I’m nervous, and he is annoying. Ben doesn’t allow me to slide off his lap once we reach home. He cups my face and forces me to breathe with him. I swallow the thick ball blocking my throat. It can’t be that bad.

Why am I nervous? They are my parents. They are cool people. And I am their baby girl.

“I’ll help you with your bags,” he says, and I am too grateful for the offer to think up a reply.

Matt puts out my stuff by the car. We stand outside for a while, staring at the building that has been my home for a month. It’s 6:01 pm. Mom should be home. Dad will be back soon. Ben grabs my suitcase, and I sling the strap bag over my shoulder. He stops at the door but doesn’t leave.

“Benny, what are you doing?”

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