Make Me Bad (Page 18)

“Your hand is really warm,” she says, half delirious with nerves. Our eyes are locked when Paul begins.

“If you need me to take a break, let me know.”

“Ah!” she yelps as soon as the needle meets skin.

“Is it too painful?” he asks, but her eyes are still on me.

I tilt my head in question. “Going to chicken out so soon? What about your list?”

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. Paul continues.

Her eyes pinch closed and her palm tries to curl in on itself, but I flatten it back out and think of some way to distract her. It shouldn’t be that hard, but she’s distracting me. We’re touching, holding hands, almost. Her skin feels good against mine. I hadn’t thought my hands were all that calloused from the gym and the odd jobs I did around my house during the remodel, but compared to hers, they’re rough.

She winces and I remember my duty: distract her.

“Try to tell me what word I’m spelling out.”

She blinks her eyes open. “What?”

I start to draw letters against her palm with the pad of my finger to show her what I mean: M-A-D-I…

“Madison,” she guesses. The edge of her mouth hitches and I know I’ve got her.

I smile and start again, focusing my attention on her hand. Now that she’s watching me, I can’t think of a single word. I’m just drawing aimlessly on her palm. It’s cathartic. I trace her lifelines and wonder what pieces of her future they hold, if any. I wonder if the tugging in my chest is from the pizza Andy and I split at lunch or if I’m completely ignoring an obvious truth standing (or rather, lying) right in front of me.

She scrunches her nose. “I didn’t catch any of that. Were those letters?”

I clear my throat. “Let me try again.”

B-E-N.

She laughs. “Creative.”

W-A-S.

“Oh my gosh. Tell me you aren’t—”

H-E-R-E.

Paul glances up, watching Madison laugh with an appreciative gleam in his eye. “How long have you two been together?”

Our mouths open at the same time as if we’re both about to rush out a reply and tidy up this situation before it becomes any more awkward, but then seconds ticks by. More. Neither of us says a word. Maybe we want to avoid the sitcom trope of speaking over one another and telling conflicting stories. A week! A month! Or maybe neither of us is in a hurry to correct him. We both close our mouths and I watch as Madison’s eyes soften and her lips curl into a tempting smirk. She’s daring me to play along.

“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?”

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.