Make Me Bad (Page 20)

I glance over my shoulder, picking a spot on the wall behind us. It assures I don’t make a total fool of myself. “Morning. There’s coffee and bagels over there.”

I point to the side table where I carefully arranged breakfast for us. Now that I’m seeing it from his perspective, it looks a little intense. There are five different types of bagels. Two kinds of spreads. The napkins are fanned.

He smiles. “Oh, I brought bagels too.”

I muster up the courage to look at him, and sure enough, he has a brown paper bag of his own—but that’s not the sight I get hung up on. God, Ben. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt. His hair is mussed up a bit, not quite as perfect as he wears it during the week. His jaw is clean-shaven.

Oh, I’m gawking. He notices, but thankfully, he saves my dignity by holding up the bag.

“But these are special,” he says, waving them. “Apology bagels.”

His mouth is on the brink of a smile.

“Oh really?”

“For Monday.”

I swallow, not wanting to delve into all that again. I turn back to the task at hand and shake my head. “Oh, it’s no problem. It was my fault too for suggesting the stuff about Andy. That was—”

He steps up behind me. “I reached out to him like you asked.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing we could just skip over this whole conversation.

“Sorry, Madison, he—”

“No, it’s fine.”

Why are tears gathering in my eyes?

“He’s hung up on Arianna.”

“I get it. I mean, c’mon—Andy and I weren’t going to date.”

My self-deprecating laugh hurts.

For some insane reason, this feels like a rejection, even though I know with all my heart that’s not the case. I don’t want Andy, but now I know Andy doesn’t want me, and that hurts because why doesn’t Andy want me? I’m not so bad!

“You two weren’t the right fit,” Ben says, like he’s trying to ease my suffering.

If he wants to ease my suffering, he should try putting that paper bag over his head. Cover up some of that charm. Now that would ease my suffering.

“What kind of bagels did you get?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Variety pack. You?”

“Same. Madison?”

“Uh huh?”

His hand hits my shoulder. “There’s a nice guy out there for you. It’s just not Andy.”

He sounds so confident, I actually believe him.

Wow this is embarrassing. I wonder what Andy told him when he brought all this up. If he laughed, I’ll die right here and now.

“Want to eat?” he says gently. He’s scared I’m going to shatter. I refuse to give in to the urge. Instead, I wrap up my hurt as carefully as possible, trying to compartmentalize the pain so I can focus on this moment. I don’t want him to see me like this: pathetic and sad and lonely. So, I take a deep breath and shrug. The smile I aim at him is halfway genuine.

“Sure.”

We eat bagels on the floor of the multipurpose room like it’s a grand picnic. He tells me about his job, why he likes being a lawyer, the thrill of growing his business. I listen intently, not because I care at all about legal proceedings but because of how compelling he is when he talks about his career. Am I this passionate about children’s books? Hilariously enough, I think I am.

After we scarf down as many bagels as we can handle, we finish setting up for a jungle-themed story time. When the kids arrive with their parents, Ben helps me pass out paper masks that turn the kiddos into ferocious lions, tigers, and snakes. Everyone sits in a semicircle and I stand at the front holding up a book, projecting my voice so everyone can hear me. Ben leans against the wall, watching me with a smile, especially when I go for it with the animal sounds. Apparently, I make a very compelling elephant. He tells me so as we’re cleaning up.

One second, he’s half complimenting, half teasing me, and then the next, he turns and asks casually, “Want to get lunch?”

I hide my shock and offer a casual shrug. “Oh…yeah. That’d be fun.”

And we do get lunch. We order sandwiches to-go at a deli down the street and we take them to the park. It’s our second picnic of the day, but this time, we’ve really mastered it. We pick a nice shady spot and Ben unwraps our food. We replay all the funny moments of the morning while we eat, and when I’m done, I lie back on the grass, staring up at the underbelly of the oak tree stretched over us.

I can feel Ben watching me from where he sits a few feet away. I’m wondering what’s on his mind a moment before he tells me.

“I feel bad the setup with Andy didn’t work out.”

My stomach squeezes tight. I keep my attention on the tree as I hum a noncommittal reply. Please, do we have to talk about this again? Anything else, I beg you.

“Did you really like him?”

I still can’t find words, so I shake my head.

“If you’re willing to take another chance on love,” he continues, a bit teasingly, “I could find you someone else. Just tell me what you’re looking for in a potential boyfriend and we’ll go from there.”

I pop up on my elbows, surprised. “Like physically?”

He smirks. “Sure.”

I’m skeptical. “Why do you want to know?”

He wipes his hands clean of sandwich crumbs and then bends one knee up to his chest so he can prop his arms on it. He’s the poster child for relaxed confidence. “Because if you want me to set you up with someone, I should know what to look out for, don’t you think?”

“Oh, right.”

I lie back down as I think so I can almost pretend he’s not there, listening to me. I can be as honest as I want to be, and right now, the truth seems to want to spill right out of me.

I think of Ben and how to describe what I like about him, how he makes me feel. I can’t just tell him: you. Find someone exactly like you. Find someone who happens to have all the indefinable qualities you have. So, instead, I dig deep and try to think of why I’m so drawn to him.

“I want to feel exhilarated in his presence,” I start. “Like I’m grateful just to be near him.”

He laughs. “That sounds nice, but I need something a little more tangible.”

I close my eyes, imagining him. “Right. Okay, how about this? I’d like him to have brown hair. I’ve always been into guys with brown hair. And tall. Yes, he should be tall.”

“Easy enough.”

“I think I want him to be funny, but not so funny that he always tries to be the center of attention. That could get annoying.”

“Marginally funny, got it.”

“Good dresser. No cargo pants.” I shudder at the thought.

“Does he have to be well-off?”

“Eh, doesn’t matter. I just want him to have a job, any job.”

“What about the teenager who was making our sandwiches earlier? He seemed into you. When you went to the bathroom, he asked me for your number.”

“Hilarious.”

“Okay. Keeping going.”

“He has to enjoy reading.”

“That’s a given.”

“And it’d be nice if he got along with my family.”

He hums then, as if deciding something. “So that rules me out.”

I sit up like I’ve just been zapped back to life. My eyes are wide open. “What do you mean, ‘rules you out’?”

Was he considering himself an option?!

He’s looking away, eyes narrowed as he watches a group of kids playing frisbee. For a second, I think he’s not going to respond to me, but he finally speaks. His profile is all I’ve got, so I stare, wholly absorbed. “Have you ever thought about what could happen between us if we weren’t in this town? If you weren’t the daughter of the police chief and I wasn’t a Rosenberg?”

“What do you mean?”

He shakes his head, reaching down for an acorn so he can dismantle it and toss away the pieces. “Forget it.”

Forget it?! Yeah right! I want to reach over and yank those thoughts straight out of his head. I want to squeeze those chiseled cheeks between my hands, get within an inch of his face, and demand he tell me the truth, but the tone of his voice and his narrowed gaze warn me off of pushing him on the subject. I don’t think I’ll like the answer, but still, I have to know…

“Can I ask you something?”

Even if we’ll never be anything more than what we are in this moment, I’m curious about one thing.

“What?” he says, tilting his head so the sun catches his eyes. My stomach swoops.

He has that effect on me with just one glance—imagine what it would be like if he got close enough to kiss me. I suppose I’ll never find out.

“I’m just wondering, if we were in that scenario you just mentioned…just two normal people going about our life. Maybe we meet on the streets of New York or in some coffee shop in Seattle.” I’m picking at grass while I speak. “If you weren’t the last man on earth my dad would ever want me to date and I somehow caught your eye, would you find me…attractive?”

He chuckles then and shakes his head. “I can’t believe you even have to ask.”