Make Me Bad(32)

She’s nibbling on her bottom lip. “He’s not really my type per se, but he’s so nice. Well, I don’t personally know if he’s nice, but everyone says he is, and most importantly, he’s not too intimidating, unlike—” She clears her throat and stops short. We both know who she was referring to anyway. It’s hilarious considering I’ve just spent the last hour drawing fucking hearts on her palm.

“So you want a nice guy,” I press, sounding like an asshole even to my own ears.

“Nice,” she concurs.

“In bed? You want a nice guy in bed?”

“Ben.”

“What, Madison? A second ago you were pushing me to open up to you, and now I’m just requesting you do the same. If you think you want a nice guy, I’ll set you up with Andy.”

“Fine,” she snaps. “Thank you. That would be great. I’m going to get out now.”

She turns to me, and her eyes could put emeralds to shame.

She wants a nice guy. Not me.

“Awesome,” I mock, angry.

“Good night,” she bites out, angrier.

Then she gets out and slams the door.





The next morning at the firm, I find Andy in his office. He’s sitting behind his desk, sipping his coffee, oblivious to my wrath. I barely slept last night. Visions of him and Madison replayed in my head until I eventually tossed my blankets aside and headed for the gym. I did an intense workout. I forced myself to engage the flirtatious blonde near the water fountain and accepted her business card when she offered it. Sure, I might have tossed it out in the locker room, but still, I should feel invigorated. Instead, I feel twice as annoyed as I did last night. I’m a pot that’s been on simmer for far too long.

“Andy.” I knock hard on his doorframe. I wouldn’t be surprised to find the wood had splintered. “Mind if I come in?”

“Oh, sure.” He grins like the nice guy he is.

Suddenly, I hate him.

“How’d ya sleep, bud?” I ask, fingering the items on his shelves. He has framed photos of his family on a ski trip, a little drawing from one of his nieces—nice guy shit.

“Great, actually. I just bought a new mattress and it’s really improved—”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Uh…”

“Listen, Madison wants me to set her up with you.”

He’s so shocked, he spits his coffee all over his monitor and keyboard. Shame.

“Jesus, warn a dude next time.”

No, actually, I don’t think I will.

“So anyway, consider it.”

“Wow. I don’t have to consider it.” He’s dabbing a napkin over his damp computer. “I accept, obviously. She’s way out of my league. Let’s go to the gym after work. Think I can get a six pack in one day?”

My gaze jerks to him. My heart lurches in my chest. My hands fist at my sides. “So you’re going to do it?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning forward, basically foaming at the mouth. “Have you seen her?”

I step toward his desk, sizing him up. Do I have it in me to kill my best friend? At this moment, maybe.

I look around for something sharp at the precise moment he bursts out laughing. His hand hits his chest and he’s really letting himself go. I’ve never seen someone laugh so heartily. “Oh man, I can’t keep it up. You should see your face right now—you want to slam my head against my desk.” He pinches his eyes shut like the hilarity is just too much. “Jesus, do you love her or what?”

I reach down and shuffle the papers on his desk, inspect some accolade he won at some point, and then stare past his head out the window with my hands stuffed in my front pockets.

“So I’ll tell her you’re not interested?”

“Uh, yeah—tell her I’d prefer to keep my balls intact, thank you very much.”





12





Madison





“Do you think there’s good service in here?” I ask, holding my phone up toward the ceiling to see if I can manage to wrangle another bar or two from the cell tower.

Eli shrugs. “I’ve never had a problem.”

He pops another Cheeto in his mouth and munches like the world isn’t a bleak and desolate place. Ben didn’t text me after our weird sort-of argument in his car. Nothing the day after, either. Oh, and you guessed it, a big fat nada for yesterday and today. It’s Friday. There’s been a black hole of doom between the last time I talked to Ben and this moment I’m in right now.

Life has continued on at an alarmingly normal pace. I wake up, don a comfortable dress or old jeans, throw myself into work at the library, and then head home to serve my dad and brother in whatever manner they see fit. Oh god, that sounds bad. It’s not their fault. I’ve taken it upon myself to cook dinner because I want it to be marginally healthy, and I never accept help when they offer to clean up because it’s faster if I just do it myself. My dad can manage his medications on his own, but sometimes I like to make sure he has everything right, just as a precaution. I’m not trying to paint myself out as some kind of Cinderella here. I’m not. I have a good life.

A GOOD LIFE, I remind myself, looking around me.