Make Me Bad(31)

“A year next month,” she lies confidently.

My brow arches. A year? That’s quite a serious relationship.

Paul wipes her tattoo, cleaning the skin, and then continues. “Going to do anything special for your anniversary?”

This time, there’s no pause as Madison launches into her answer.

“Ben is taking me to Europe. I’ve never been. We’re skipping the cliché parts though—no Eiffel Tower and Vatican for us.” I smirk. Oh really? “We’re going to Italy, to this little fishing village right on the coast.” I’m impressed. “You can only get there by train, and there’s a bed and breakfast owned by an English couple. It’s a real hidden gem.”

“How’d you guys hear about it?” Paul asks.

I tip my head. Yes, Madison, how did we hear about it?

“My friend Eli stayed there a few summers back. He said if I only take one trip in my whole entire life, that’s where I should go. Vernazza.”

“Sounds like it’ll be romantic,” Paul says, casting me a glance that makes it clear he thinks I’m a lucky guy.

Her tattoo doesn’t take much longer after that, not that it matters. With Madison carrying the conversation for the three of us and her hand still in mine, I draw random doodles on her skin, enjoying myself more than I should. She talks about the most boring stuff, like the library cataloging system, and yet I’m riveted, completely and utterly transfixed.

I’m so disturbed by how I feel that I’m quiet on the drive home. Annoyed, even.

Madison notices.

“Do you not like the tattoo? I thought it looked really cool before he covered it.”

I glance over to her briefly before I put my attention back on the road. “No, I like it.”

She nods and taps her hands on her knees. “I wasn’t too much of a wimp, was I? In the beginning, I really thought I was going to cry, but I held it together.”

“You did fine.”

“Paul was nice, right? And it was cool of him to just charge the normal rate.”

I hum half-heartedly as I put on my blinker and take a left. We’re only a few minutes from her house now, just a couple more turns and she’ll have to get out. I ease my foot off the gas just a bit to slow my speed.

“Okay, I give—did I do something?” Madison asks suddenly, turning toward me.

“No.”

“It’s just that you seem a little standoffish. If you’re annoyed that I told him we were together…” She forces a laugh. “That was just a joke.”

“I’m not annoyed. I’m thinking.”

“About what?” she pushes.

I’m not used to women like her. Madison wears her emotions right on her sleeve and expects me to do the same. Most women would back off and give me space for fear that I’d push them away, but Madison’s not scared of that. Hell, sometimes I don’t think she’s scared of anything.

Maybe it’s time I try for a little courage too.

“So you’ve thought of all these items for your bucket list, right?”

“Not really. I mean, I had a few things, like my tattoo—”

“And having sex for the first time,” I press, if only because I don’t have that much longer with her in my car and this courageous streak might be fleeting.

She looks away, out the windshield. “Yes. That too.”

“Well, is finding a boyfriend on your list? Or does that not matter to you?”

I know if I looked at her, her cheeks would be red. I purposely keep my gaze on the road.

She laughs lightly, but it sounds a little strained. “Oh sure, I mean, in an ideal world, I’d find a boyfriend this year. Hell, I’d find the love of my life and we’d get married and live happily ever after, but I have to be realistic. That probably won’t happen.”

The girlish notion makes me laugh, but then she jerks in her seat and faces the window. Maybe I shouldn’t have laughed.

“So you’ve thought a lot about it, huh?” I press.

“Yup,” she says, her voice sounding colder now. “I even think I know someone who might be a good fit for me—wait. Pull over here so my dad doesn’t see us.” She’s pointing to the curb up ahead. “I can just walk the rest of the way.”

I jerk the wheel to the right and hit the brake a little too hard. Maybe I’m annoyed that she doesn’t want her dad to see her with me, or maybe I’m angry at the idea of her with another guy. Who’s to fuckin’ say?

I put the car in park and finally turn to look at her.

She’s staring down at her lap, fidgeting with the hem of her white top. I can see the barest hint of skin between it and the top of her baggy jeans. I think of how easily those pants would peel down her hips. I jerk my gaze elsewhere.

“Who?” My jaw is locked so tight the word barely makes it out of my mouth.

“What?”

“Who do you have in mind?”

“Oh…well, I was thinking maybe Andy. Or—” she amends hurriedly, “someone like Andy.”

I laugh. Her answer came straight out of left field, so much so that she has to be joking.

My brows shoot up and I lean in, just to ensure I’m hearing her right. “Andy? As in my friend, Andy?”