Make Me Bad(28)

I slide on some brown leather boots I splurged on last year when Anthropologie was having a sale and then I step into my bathroom. My hair is in a braid, so I shake it out and assess the damage. The long brown waves still have a little volume left in them. It’s kind of a wild mess, but it’ll have to do. I don’t have time to become a hair wizard—for all I know, Ben’s only five minutes away.

I pull out my makeup, eternally grateful that I let Eli talk me into getting some new products at Sephora last summer. I had no idea what contouring or highlighting was before that day. I still know very little about it, but the enthusiastic employee taught me the bare minimum for what I need to do to make my green eyes pop and my skin a little more flawless.

Who am I kidding? I have to wipe off my eye shadow four times before it looks halfway decent, but when I step back and look at myself in the mirror, I’m kind of impressed. My eyes seem even bigger than usual. My lips are a soft pink. My cheekbones are accentuated. Most important of all, I still look like me, just a little…sexier.

My phone buzzes on my bed and I leap into action, answering it as I run down the stairs. I’m at the door, yanking on a jacket when I realize I forgot to say hello.

“Madison?” Ben says on the other end of the line. “You there?”

I laugh and pause, remembering to breathe for the first time in what feels like forever.

I hold the phone up to my ear. “Hey, sorry.”

I can see him through the window in the foyer. He’s sitting at the curb in a sleek black SUV.

“I’m outside.”

“Okay,” I say, forcing myself to lie. “I’ll be right out, I just need another few minutes.”

“Take your time.”

He hangs up and I stay right where I am, willing my heart to slow its wild pace just a little. This is going to be a big night. I’m about to get into Ben Rosenberg’s car, and just the idea of it feels wrong. My dad didn’t ask me what I was doing tonight, so I’m not deceiving him by going out. I’m allowed to leave the house. I just never do, so it feels strange. I heave a sigh, reach for the door handle, and step outside to begin an adventure I’ll likely never forget.

Ben gets out and rounds the front of the SUV to meet me at the passenger side door as I walk down the front path. I have a sudden urge to walk in the exact opposite direction. My confidence has left the building. He didn’t change after work, but he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. If he was wearing a tie, he’s not anymore.

He’s as out of my league as he’s ever been. Handsome, confident, and poised, he moves like he’s never spent a single day wishing he were in someone else’s body.

How did we get here? I wonder as he pulls the door open and then watches me walk the last few yards toward him. When I get close, he tips his head.

“Madison.”

I bite down on my smile and tip my head right back at him before I step up into his car. Black leather seats warm my tush. Ah, rich people really do know how to live.

He closes the door behind me and I watch him circle back to the driver’s side. He hops in with the confident grace of a panther then turns to me, one hand casually draped over the steering wheel.

“Where to?”





11





Ben





“Funny. This is a first for me too.”

“You’ve never been inside a tattoo shop?” she asks.

I’m staring up at the wall covered in intricate designs when I shake my head.

“Hey, if you’re a walk-in, you’ll have to come back,” a grizzly voice says behind us. I turn and assess the guy behind the counter. He’s probably in his mid-thirties, black concert tee, jeans, buzzed hair, colorful half-sleeve on his right arm. “One of my artists is out sick and the rest are booked solid.”

Madison’s smile falls. “Crap. I didn’t even think about scheduling an appointment.”

She turns to me with brows tugged together, her bottom lip sticking out just a little. I don’t like her expression. I also don’t like the idea of our night getting cut short.

“Do you tattoo?” I ask the guy.

He crosses his arms over his chest and aims a disdainful glance at me. “This is my shop.”

Good—he won’t fuck up her skin.

“I’ll pay you five times your normal rate if you can shuffle some things around. The tattoo she wants won’t take long.”

I actually have no idea how long it’ll take. I’m just assuming at this point, but I think it’s fair to guess Madison doesn’t have anything too crazy in mind for her first tattoo. I glance over to her and she nods, mouth agape.

The guy considers my offer for a second, frowning. He’s annoyed, but not so annoyed that he won’t do it.

With a sigh, he turns for his office. “Yeah, fine. Give me a second.”

Madison walks over, tilting her head to whisper, “You didn’t have to do that. It’ll probably be ridiculously expensive now.”

“So what? You’re about to permanently ink your body—at least now you’re in good hands.”

A few minutes later, the owner introduces himself as Paul and leads us toward the back. He takes more of an interest in Madison than me, walking beside her and asking her how she heard about his shop. There’s music playing loudly overhead and a constant whirring of needles as we pass other artists at work. Paul has his own private room—perks of owning the place, I guess—and once we’re inside, Madison describes what she wants.