Make Me Bad(46)

I watch as the waitress walks by their table, and if she was putty with my dad, she’s completely helpless when Ben aims a handsome smile her way. He’s pointing at my booth, saying something, and she nods, grinning.

My scowl only deepens as I watch her walk away and disappear into the kitchen only to reappear a few moments later with a big ol’ chocolate milkshake.

Ice cream confections are meant to be innocent little things, but this one is lethal. She waltzes right over to our table and starts to set it down.

“This is from that—”

“Oh! Thank you!” I reach up to yank it out of her hand, and I can tell she’s annoyed that I cut her off.

She tries again. “That gentlema—”

“Gentle machine makes the best milkshakes,” I finish for her. “I know. Thank you for bringing this over. I’ve been craving one all day.”

Her eyes narrow and it’s obvious she thinks I have a few screws loose.

My dad watches the exchange with equal amounts of confusion. When she walks away, he tilts his head, studying me. “Did you order that?”

“No. She must have just sensed that I needed one. Here, have a sip.”

I don’t have to tell him twice. It’s perfect, really. My dad has a bigger sweet tooth than I do, and this chocolate milkshake is the just the diversion I needed.

Thank you, Ben.

I stand and explain I’m going to the bathroom. As I pass Ben’s table with my chin raised and my shoulders pushed back, I completely ignore him.

It doesn’t matter. I know he’ll follow me anyway.

I barely take two steps down the side hallway where the bathrooms are located before I sense him behind me. I pick up my pace as if I’m trying to outrun him. I reach the door of the first bathroom and am about to twist the handle when his hand covers mine, keeping me from opening it.

His mouth hits the shell of my ear as his chest hits my back. His body blocks out the hallway light, casting me in shadow.

“Don’t you want to know what my challenge is?” he taunts.

I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to stay steady on my feet.

Isn’t this already a challenge? Having to stand here in this hallway with his skin on my skin and his body on mine? Keeping the truth from slipping out, burying my true desires—it’s all a challenge.

“Madison…”

Has he always seemed this intimidating or is it worse right now when my heart is stumbling over itself and my hand is shaking? We can’t do this—whatever this is.

We’re in a busy diner. This bathroom probably isn’t empty. In a second, someone’s going to try to turn the handle and exit but they won’t be able to because we’re keeping it closed from the outside.

“Ben,” I whisper. “My dad is going to find us.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

His voice is low and menacing. He’s playing the villain I cast him as. Eli’s words filter through my mind: He wants you—bad.

“Did you try the milkshake?”

I hear the amusement in his tone and squeeze my eyes closed.

“That was reckless. You nearly got me caught.”

“And yet here you are.”

Voices carry down the hallway. Conversations seem to close in on us. Is that my dad? Is he still at our table?

Ben’s free hand squeezes my shoulder, and he applies just enough pressure that I’m forced to spin around and look up at him. When his gaze catches on my expression, his brows furrow in frustration. He looks devastatingly handsome…handsome and mad.

“Are you scared?” he asks, hands falling away from me.

Our eyes lock and my heart pounds.

“Terrified,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Then I look away, embarrassed by my honesty.

He steps closer and our hips brush. The contact makes me lose my breath and he must enjoy it too because he reaches out to grip my waist, pulling me closer. “Worried your dad will find you back here with me?”

That’s nothing, nothing compared to my real fears: the falling sensation I felt when Ben walked into the diner, my excitement every time his name appears on my phone, the easy banter, the give and take. We’re building something. Can’t he feel it? Is that why he’s leaning closer? His chest brushing mine…

“Honey?” A voice carries down the hallway and I try to jerk away from Ben, but he doesn’t let me.

It’s our waitress carrying two plates of food: my salad and my dad’s hamburger.

If she thinks it’s weird that Ben and I are pressed up against the bathroom door, sharing an intimate moment, she doesn’t let on. She just tilts her head back toward our booth with a knowing look in her eyes. “Food’s ready.”

She disappears and Ben finally steps back. I take full advantage, bolting down that hallway as fast as my feet can take me, and I don’t even get my feelings hurt when Ben walks out a few minutes after me and doesn’t look in my direction. He throws some cash down onto his table, yanks his jacket on, and then he and Andy head outside.

My dad finally catches sight of him as they walk past us on the sidewalk.

His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say a word. I pray he doesn’t realize Ben and Andy were in the restaurant. To him, it should look like they’re just walking by after work, like they would have done if Ben hadn’t spotted me in here and come inside to taunt me.