Page 1 of You're so Bad

ChapterOne

Shauna

Iswear under my breath as my phone buzzes. It’s face-up on the coffee table, next to the sweating beer that’s waiting for me to finish dessert, so I can already see his name.

Colter ASshole, changed when I was drunk and never updated to the proper capitalization.

Damn it.

I’m in my pajamas at six-forty on a Saturday night, eating a pint of ice cream while watching a bad dating show with my grandmother’s Corgi. The last person in the world I want to hear from right now is my ex-boyfriend. Shouldn’t that be understood?

It doesn’t help that my grandmother, whom I live with, is gussying herself up for the wrap party for a made-for-TV movie she appeared in. I mean, no girl wants to be out-foxed by her grandmother. Nana was a background actress, an extra, but Constance Murphy has never been the type to blend in. She’s even sharper and snappier than she was at twenty, I’m sure, and she has the kind of presence and authority that makes people take notice. If I told her that, she’d insist no granddaughter of hers could possibly be a wilting violet either, but I feel like one lately, down to my fading, overgrown purple pixie cut and the zit on my cheek.

I’m a little depressed, I guess. That’s what happens when your boyfriend leaves you and promptly gets engaged to your best friend.

Formerbest friend.

Sighing, I stuff a final spoonful of ice cream into my face and then present Bertie, who’s snuggled up next to me, with the remainder of the pint, holding the bottom for him. Vanilla, purchased so I could share, because I am this dog’s bitch. Fine by me. I’d rather be his bitch than some man’s girlfriend.

“I shouldn’t look, should I?” I ask him. “It’s just going to piss me off, isn’t it?”

He’s nose-deep in the pint and clearly could care less. Fantastic. Not only am I talking to a dog—I’m talking to him and he’s not listening.

Still holding the pint mostly stationary for Bertie, I lean forward and ditch the spoon in favor of the phone. I unlock it with a finger while paying half-attention to the douchebag on the screen—a guy with teeth so white they could probably be seen from space. He’s saying something about the dangers of opening his heart to new love, as if it’s a real boo-hoo hardship to be presented with multiple hot single women who want to bang him. The show’s calledTime to Settle Down, and the premise is that Tooth Guy has gotten too old to continue being a playboy. So they’re giving him one last hurrah before he has to propose to one of the ten women living in his temporary harem with him.

“I dislike you,” I say, pointing the phone at him. Bertie grumbles at me because I jostled the pint I’m still holding. I could put it down for him to feast on, but it’s cozy having him this close, so I’d prefer for him to stay.

Finally, sighing, I look at the phone and read Colter’s message.

When do we get to meet him, Bean?

I’m tempted to reply that he doesn’t get to call me that anymore, and I didn’t particularly like it in the first place, but I’m silenced by his next message. A photo that was taken in my basement several weeks ago. It’s of my grandmother and one of the much-younger friends she made while filming the movie.

Leonard has wavy brown hair, slightly too long, and hazel eyes with long lashes. He’s tall, muscular, and tattooed, although he really missed the mark in choosing which ones to get, because I knew within five minutes of meeting him that “trouble” should be scrawled right in the middle of his forehead. It’s this air he has–like he’s always five minutes away from making his next mistake or banging someone in the bathroom of a Wendy’s. Of course,thatwould be a mistake for whoever he’d tricked into banging him. The man may be gainfully employed, but he has the air of a vagrant. Ahotvagrant. The kind who might trick a single mother into taking him home, only to run off with her…

I don’t know, people don’t really have silver silverware anymore, do they?

Besides, from what little I know about his past, he’s the kind of guy who throws grenades and then runs—not exactly the sort of person you want to hang your hat on.

Still, credit where it’s due. My grandfather ran off a while back to shack up with his much-younger water aerobics instructor girlfriend. When he found out, Leonard offered to take this photo—and a few more—with Nana so she could pretend she’d attracted a partner even younger and hotter than Grandpa Frank’s pretty young thang. Up the photos went on social media, and my grandmother has spent the past several weeks deflecting thirsty questions from everyone she knows. She’s loved every minute, but as far as I know she’s declined to explain herself to anyone.

Is Colter trying to get the goods on my grandmother?

He’s not the type of guy who likes gossip, as a rule. So is this coming from Bianca?

Yes, I decide,that tracks.

She alwaysdidenjoy gossip. It was all fun and games until she turned on me and swooped in on my boyfriend. You’d think six years of friendship would have given her pause, but Bianca believes in going for what she wants. That was something I’d admired about her once.

Teeth on edge, I mute Mr. Whiney Pants on the TV and type:

What do you mean?

I’m happy for you. I’ve always known you’d meet the perfect person when the timing was right.

Wait,what?

The ice cream container escapes my grip, and Bertie grumbles at me again before inelegantly jumping off the couch, his little Corgi legs really no help to him.

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