Graham gives me a look like I’ve lost it. “Chill. I’m almost done.”
“Mads is running up the road. Put. It. Out.”
He scans the park and then rolls his eyes. “Jesus, you’ve turned into such a killjoy.”
He’s right. Madison is really changing me, and we’re not even together. I watch her run by step for step. She doesn’t glance over at the park; she just runs. Graham elbows me. “Just ask her out.”
And get buried in her backyard by her dad? Um, no, thanks. But I will say this: Jake isn’t going to be dating her either. Not while I’m still living next door.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Madison
Bryce is such an asshat! This morning before first period, Jake Foster came up to me in the hall. He’s kind of cute. Yes, he says goonish things, but what guy doesn’t? Anyway, because of my recent shrunken-clothes situation, he’s been flirting with me a lot lately.
I know it’s nothing. It’s simple flirting, big deal. Every girl in school flirts. But Bryce slammed Jake into the lockers. He told Jake not to look at me, talk to me, or even breathe in my direction! Then Bryce ignored me in calculus 2. What the heck?
In lunch, I don’t know what I’m doing—or where the courage came from—but I march right up to Bryce’s table. Emily yells my name as I walk right past our usual spot. I wave her off. I reach Bryce and slam my palm on the table. His troublemaking friends Marty and Seth look at me and snicker.
“Hey, shorty. I think you made a wrong turn,” Marty says.
“Bryce, I need to speak with you. Now.”
“Ohh, Bryce, looks like Minnie Mouse here might give you a lashing with a ruler if you don’t obey.” Seth chuckles.
I shoot them both a look. “And if you two don’t shut up in about two seconds, I’m going to hit you with my backpack.” Turning my attention back to Bryce, I say, “I need to talk to you.”
Graham walks up to the table and plops down. “What’s up, Maddy?”
“Nothing.”
Bryce is looking over some drawings of some sort, possibly tattoo sketches. Clearly he is ignoring me as he turns another page. My patience has completely gone out the window. As he turns yet another page, I yank the binder from him and snap it shut.
He glares at me. “Smalls, that was just rude.”
“Was it? Was it as rude as you ignoring me?”
He smirks. “Am I ignoring you? No. I was waiting for you to talk to me.”
I want to smack him with the binder. “Really?” He doesn’t answer, so I continue, “I would like to speak to you alone. Now.”
He stands. “Next time just say that.” He takes the binder from me and follows me out of the lunchroom into an empty hallway. He stops by a set of lockers. “Right here is good enough.”
“Fine.” I stare at my shoes and try to settle my breathing. “Did my cousin ask you to mortify me this morning?”
“No, why?”
Why? Is he serious? I fold my arms over my chest. “You’re joking, right? This morning ring any bells? And then during calculus, you acted like I wasn’t even there. So did she ask you to do it? Or are you going to start finding ways to humiliate me yourself, like you did in elementary school? Because I’ve had enough.”
He leans in close. I inhale his minty breath and almost melt. “Let me get this straight. You’re pissed at me for threatening Jake Foster, is that it? The guy is a tool, and he has a rep for nailing virgins. Excuse me for making sure that asshole knew you weren’t going to be another name in his scorebook. And I ignored you in class today because I don’t want you getting the wrong idea, Smalls. I’m not interested in that way. You’re my friend; that’s it.”
I feel my heart drop to my stomach. My eyes water, and I glare at my feet. I stifle a sob and whisper, “Oh. Okay.”
“Smalls?” His thumb brushes against my cheek. “I’m not good for you. You’ve gotta know that, right?”
I nod but refuse to look up. “Stay out of my personal life from now on. If Jake wants to date me and use me, it’s not any of your business.”
He lifts my chin. Our eyes lock, and a tear slips down my cheek. “I’m not going to do that. I might not be good for you, but neither is he. Most of the guys in this school aren’t even worthy of you.”
“Yeah, and I should be the one to decide that, not you.”
“Mads.” He presses his forehead to mine and says in a soft tone, “You’re right, but if I can stop it, I will.”
I sniffle. “Why?”
“Because I like you a lot. I can’t date you because I’m terrible for you. I can’t kiss you because I’ve got a past that follows me everywhere. No one wants a girl like you with someone like me. I like you enough to let you go but not to be taken advantage of by others.”
I start to break free from him, but he pulls me back into a tight hug. “Madison, I swear if I could get a blank slate right now, I would. I’d do it so I could date you. But the fact is I don’t. You have a future far away from here, and I’m going to be in Michigan. While you’re off running hillsides and through campuses, I’ll be looking out for Hailey.”
I tilt my head and study his lips. They’re so close. I could literally have him right this minute. So I do. I touch my lips to his. He doesn’t respond at first, but then he does. He presses me against the lockers, cradling my head in his hands. His kisses are so soft and explosive I don’t know if I am soaring or dying. It feels like the wings of butterflies tickling my insides while tingling sensations run down my arms. With every kiss, touch, and caress along my skin, lips, and tongue, I don’t want this to end.
He eventually pulls back and stares at me. We’re breathing hard, smiling, and he tucks a strand of my hair behind my left ear. “Madison, we can’t do this ever again. Okay?”
I nod. “Yeah.” But it’s not okay. He walks away, and I wait a few minutes before I return to the lunchroom.
I notice Bryce doesn’t look back at me. How can he walk away so easily? Am I really that bad of a kisser? I lean against the cool metal of the lockers and shrink down to the ground. He’s right—he’s not right for me. But that kiss, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and I’ll never have it again.
Emily finds me after school and practically holds me hostage in my own car. “All right, spill.”
“Spill what?” I ask.
She looks annoyed. “You know what.” I do, but I don’t want to tell her. This isn’t really normal because we tell each other everything. Except lately, I’ve been holding back. I mean, what will she think of me as soon as I let her know that I’m falling for Bryce Matthews? She’ll probably ask me if I’ve had a head injury.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
She shakes her head. “Really? Nothing to tell? Last time I saw you, you were at lunch, where you bypassed our table and dragged Bryce out of the lunchroom. He came back; you never did. His cheeks were all rosy like he’d just run a marathon, soooo … I want to know what’s going on.”
I roll my eyes. “Nothing is going on.”
“Bullshit! I call it as I see it. I’m calling bullshit. He came by your hospital room and looked so scared. I swear he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Then at school he’s been watching you. I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I have. He watches you enter the halls, the lunchroom, hell, he even watched you get into your car a few minutes ago. So what the heck is going on?”
“Nothing,” I whisper. “Well, nothing ever will. He said I was too good for him and that we aren’t going to be anything more than friends.”
She places her hand on my knee and squeezes. “He’s not looking at you like he just wants to be friends, Maddy. He’s looking at you like you’re his whole world.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’s not going to ask me out, and I’m not going to ask him. Now, I’ve got to get to the field for practice.”
“Okay. But, Maddy”—she opens the door and gets out, looking over at me—“just be careful. I mean, if you like him, fine. But he’s got a rep
utation for getting himself into some serious trouble. You don’t want to be around when he does.”
I nod, and she shuts the door. She’s right. Bryce seems to know it too. That’s probably why he said we won’t be anything more than friends. So why does my heart still hurt?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Madison
It seems all anyone can talk about is Greg’s big Halloween bash this Friday. In chemistry, a few of the girls—Hadley, Justice, and Sue—were collaborating on costumes. Apparently they’re all going as Playboy Bunnies. French class, English lit, even civics has been tainted by the discussions of different costumes and plans that make me think I’m the only person who doesn’t care.
Even Emily is on board for the Halloween bash and pitches me ideas in between periods.
“I’m not going!” I finally yell while walking to calculus.
She grabs my arm, causing me to stop in the hall. “This is our senior year, Madison. We’re supposed to have fun.”
“I’ve gotta find another job. My insurance is due in December, and I have to find a way to pay it.”
“Well, I think it’s stupid your parents make you pay for your car insurance.”
“They don’t make me. I want to. Besides, since I started doing it, they’ve given me a little more free range. I don’t have to be in at ten like Kyle did. I can come in at eleven or twelve.”
Emily narrows her eyes. “Yeah, but none of that matters if you’re doing nothing but being a silly homebody. We need to do this, Madison. It’ll be fun. And hell, maybe we’ll be lucky and score dates to the winter formal.”
I shrug. “I’ll think about it.”
We walk to class where I sigh and slump into my chair. Not a full second passes before Mrs. Vixen calls me to her desk. I approach, and she says in a low tone, “I wanted to get you a new group, but it seems your partners overruled me. Sorry. Looks like Graham and Bryce are still your partners. If you really can’t work out your issues, I will pull you from the group, but you won’t be put in another group.”
“So I’ll be by myself?”
“Not exactly. You’ll have to help me grade papers, and tutor the kids struggling in class everyday in order to make up the difference in points. Remember, group work is double the grade. If you’re not in a group, it’s hardly fair to give you double the grade on individual efforts.”
I swear this woman is trying to ruin me. I can’t stay after school; I’ve got cross-country practice and meets. This Saturday is state where I’ll be seeing the wonderful Kathy Wheeler again. I cannot be slacking.
I march back to my seat, grumbling. Graham smiles at me, and I flip him off. “What did I do?” he asks.
“You know you two have been nothing but awesome this year. I tried to get a new group, and you jackholes had to ruin it.”
Bryce strolls into the room, and Graham shakes his head. “I told you we should have let her find another group. Now she’s pissed at both of us. Good job.”
Graham has been nicer lately, but it still doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten his douchbaggery at the beginning of the school year. And I’m definitely not willing to hand him my notes, homework, or anything else he used to get from me before.
“So, wait, you’re coming over tonight to study?” Bryce asks me. I shoot him a glare and face forward.
He swats at my ponytail, and I ignore it. But after the fifth time, I turn in my seat and snap, “What do you want?”
The whole class shifts in their seats, and all eyes seem to be trained on us. I can feel heat blossoming across my cheeks and down my neck. Bryce stares at me and smiles. “I was going to ask you what time you were coming over tonight.” He doesn’t even bother to whisper. I can hear people chuckling and snorting around us.
“Mr. Matthews, Miss Issac, and Mr. Nichols, out in the hall right now,” Mrs. Vixen says.
Graham protests, “What did I do?”
“Out in the hall, or I’ll give your group a week’s worth of detention.”
I hang my head and make my way into the hall. I lean against the brick wall, staring at the pebbled floor tiles.
“You know we wouldn’t be out here if you hadn’t messed with her,” Graham whines.
“We wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place if you hadn’t dated her cousin,” Bryce says.
I finally look up. “I’m right here. This is exactly why we’re out here. I’m not invisible, yet you two treat me like I am.”
Graham snorts. “Trust me. We know you are not invisible.”
“No, she’s right. We’ve been treating her differently. How would you like me to be from now on, Smalls? Want me to remain quiet whenever you’re around?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
Mrs. Vixen steps into the hall. Her pale skin looks shiny under the fluorescent lights. Her hair looks darker and springier. “You three are my best students. But today I’m very disappointed in you all. You’ve been bickering in class, you’ve asked for a different partner, then you promise me everything will work out, and then you interrupt my class. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just a miscommunication,” Bryce replies as smooth as ever. “I didn’t know if we could study directly after school or if we had to do it later because of Madison’s schedule.”
Mrs. Vixen looks at me. “Well, Madison?”
“Uh … I have practice until five,” I say.
“There you have it, boys. Now, I’ll give you a few minutes to get your scheduling set, and then I want you parked in your seats—and no more interruptions,” Mrs. Vixen says and then walks into the class.
I push off the wall and start to follow when fingers catch and tighten around my wrist. “Where are you going?” Bryce asks.
“In there. We’ll just do the usual time.”
Graham isn’t listening to us. He has his phone out and is probably texting someone or playing a game the way his thumbs are moving. I focus back on Bryce and ask, “Why aren’t you letting me go?”
“What are you doing Friday?”
“I’m not going to that Halloween party.”
He nods. “You should.”
“Why?”
He leans in. “Because there’s going to be a lot of misguided youth drinking and doing things with people they’d probably never be with. Costumes are great for that sort of thing. Living out fantasies.”
I shove him and walk back into the classroom. What’s he getting at? He can only be with me if we’re in costume? Or is he talking about someone else? Either way, it’s not happening.
I’d like to say my day got better, but it only got weirder. In art class, Ms. Dyson asked me to stay after class. Normally this means you’re in trouble, have to schedule time to finish a project, or need to help out with something. This could mean putting together flower arrangements or helping set up for the sports banquets. Neither of these things are fun or worth volunteering for.
“Madison,” Ms. Dyson began, “I gave everyone’s showcase paintings back to them today. But you won’t be getting yours because it’s not here. It’ll be returned by Friday.”
“Oh, um … okay.”
“You’ve got such a wonderful gift. Have you ever thought about exploring it more?”
I shake my head. It’s a lie. I have thought about it, but I can’t. My parents will never go for it. My dad would go ballistic. “Art is doodling, and doodling doesn’t pay the bills.” That’s what I overheard my dad tell my mom one night when she suggested I go to an art school for the summer.
“I’d hate to see a talent like yours go to waste,” Ms. Dyson continues. “Please think it over. Okay?”
I nod.
As soon as I leave, I try to forget all about my weird day. But that’s not easily done.
“Smalls … Smaaaaaalls … wake up,” Bryce says as he shakes me awake.
I lift my head and peel off a piece of paper that’s stuck to the side of my face. Blinking a few times to focus on my surroundings, I notice the drool stains on my homework. Gro
ss. Fanning out the paper, I sigh, “When did you get here?”
“A while ago. Your mom let me in. I knew something was up when you didn’t come over after your practice, so I decided to check on you. Rough day?” Bryce takes a seat on my bed.
I crack my neck as I tilt my head from side to side and then yawn. “I’m just beat.”
He nods and lies back on my mattress. “Fair enough. How about this: you lie down here”—he pats a place next to him—“and we’ll go over the homework in math. Remember, we have a test tomorrow. Double the grade and bonuses are extra points and we get to use past homework as cheat sheets.”
I nod and crawl onto my bed beside him. I don’t take my book, pencil, or my homework with me. Nope, just me. And I lay my head on his chest. Bryce doesn’t push me off or beg me to wake up; he simply sighs. “Mads, are you really that tired?”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“You know I can’t stay here, right?”
“I know,” I whisper. “But I don’t want you to go.”
I feel his arm touch my waist, and his lips brush against my forehead. “I don’t want to go either, but I’m pretty sure your dad will murder me.”
I feel him stir next to me. “Don’t leave.” I brush my lips against his neck and clutch his shirt.
“Maaaaaadiiiiiison, we can’t. You don’t want me.”
I lift my head and stare at him. “I do, though. As stupid as it is, I really do. And I know it makes no sense. Trust me, I’ve tried to make any kind of logic out of it, but I can’t. I like you, Bryce.”
He shakes his head. “No, you don’t, Madison. You don’t know shit about me, just the surface and the rumors, but that’s it. Trust me, you don’t like me.” He gets off my bed, and I try pulling him back.
Bryce (Scandalous Boys #1) Page 12