Make Me Bad(47)

That night, I lie in bed, staring at my phone, analyzing the last text Ben sent. I have a challenge for you.

I never texted him back—even after we finished eating and left the diner—and I’m too chicken to text him back now. I’ll just ask him about it in the morning when we both show up at the library for story time.

I’ll be the one in charge then, the one calling the shots. I won’t have him cornering me in hallways and making me sweat.

In fact, the next morning, I’m back to my chipper self, more confident than ever that I can deal with my all-consuming crush on Ben Rosenberg and live to tell the tale. I act like yesterday never happened, like we didn’t almost kiss in that diner hallway and my feelings aren’t in danger of boiling over. I’ve been doing it for weeks, feigning disinterest. Today should be no different, except for the fact that Ben didn’t get the memo. He doesn’t want to play along.

He walks in with an air about him, like he’s just won the race and he’s doing a victory lap. He’s wearing a black shirt, and I decide that color should be deleted from his wardrobe because I just can’t take it. He must like the way I ogle him, though, because he’s clearly gloating as he passes me a surprise latte.

“I had them add a little hazelnut. That’s how you like it, right?”

“Oh.” I glance down at the to-go cup, a little shocked. “Yes, thank you.”

“No problem. How was the rest of your dinner?”

I clear my throat. “Fine. Better than fine, in fact. I ate all of my salad.”

I glance up in time to catch his very subtle smirk. “Like a good little girl.”

My stomach ties itself into a knot—a double knot.

“You think you really got me yesterday, don’t you? That show in the hallway? Very daring. If my dad had found us, you’d be six feet under right now.”

He shrugs, unperturbed. “Maybe, but it would have been worth it. You should have seen yourself. You really thought I was going to take advantage of you right there, in the middle of the diner.”

My eyes go wide. My cheeks burn hot.

“What?! No I didn’t!”

He chuckles. “Come on, Madison. It was all in good fun—part of your plan, remember?”

Of course. All part of my plan.

What’s my plan again?

“So even if that waitress hadn’t interrupted, nothing would have happened?”

“What kind of man do you take me for?”

A dangerously tempting one.

He smiles, and ah, yes. He knows exactly how I feel. I’m sure of it.

He’s not fooling me.

This friendship is starting to get messy. You can’t flirt and text and touch as much as we do without crossing some lines. Doesn’t he realize that?

I decide to put a stop to this conversation by sending him over to the ladder I asked Lenny to bring down. We have work to do. Today’s story time is winter wonderland themed. My dress is ice blue and I have a snowman clip in my hair.

I want to hang paper snowflakes from the ceiling for the kids. They’ll flip, and fortunately, Ben is game. He takes off his jacket and sets down his coffee before he climbs right on up. I hand him a couple of snowflakes connected to strings and then step back to watch him work.

His shirt rides up as he stretches to attach the first one, and I catch a few inches of his toned torso. I nearly lick my chops. Good thing he’s too busy to notice.

“Is that good?” he asks, in reference to the snowflake.

I mumble something inaudible then scurry back to my table. I’m glad I have a solid objective to get back to: arranging a pile of snowballs.

“Do you have plans later? Andy wants us all to watch a movie at his house.”

“Us?”

“You, me, Arianna, Kevin, Eli.”

It seems I have no choice. I’ll be spending the evening in Ben’s company, suffering, keeping my dirty thoughts to myself.

“And I told him to pick something scary,” he continues.

I glance back over, glad to see his shirt has fixed itself. Thank God.

“Why?”

So I’ll be forced to cower in fear? Sidle up close? Hide my face against his chest?

His brow arches. “Because you want to be bad, Hart. Blood and gore go hand in hand with that, don’t you think?”

So it has nothing to do with us touching. Fine.

I turn around and return to my task. We work in silence and I wonder if I should bring up the boyfriend search again as a way to test the waters between us. It’s an underhanded tactic, maybe even a little childish, but it’s the only tool I’ve got, so I’ll use it.

“I’ve been wondering,” I start. “How has the search been going for my nice guy?” He grunts, but I trudge on. “You know, since Andy rejected me…I keep expecting you to find someone to take his place.”

“I’ve been too busy at the firm to think much about it.”

His tone sounds stiff.

“Oh?” I start to arrange the name tags. “That’s understandable. You know what? Maybe you could find someone to invite to Andy’s tonight,” I suggest sweetly, as if getting my hopes up. “What better way to get to know someone than in a group setting?”

“Wouldn’t work,” he says brusquely, shutting the door on the subject.