Make Me Bad - R.S. Grey Page 0,41

my dad and brother in whatever manner they see fit. Oh god, that sounds bad. It’s not their fault. I’ve taken it upon myself to cook dinner because I want it to be marginally healthy, and I never accept help when they offer to clean up because it’s faster if I just do it myself. My dad can manage his medications on his own, but sometimes I like to make sure he has everything right, just as a precaution. I’m not trying to paint myself out as some kind of Cinderella here. I’m not. I have a good life.

A GOOD LIFE, I remind myself, looking around me.

Like right now, I’m in the break room at the library eating a ham and cheese sandwich on a warm baguette. It’s delicious. Eli is sitting across the table regaling me with stories from a trivia night he went to with Kevin and some of their couple friends. I’m genuinely entertained. I’m not at all bitter that I was not invited because I do not qualify as a couple. I’m just Madison, party of one.

Mrs. Allen has tried her hand at baking again and there’s a nice deflated thing sitting on the break room counter, waiting for us to devour it. It could be a cheesecake or it could be a door stopper. Either way, yum.

Katy (my glorious intern, Katy!), has arrived at work nearly on time all week and has even kind of listened when I’ve given her tasks. Sure, yesterday I found her sexting with her boyfriend down in the storage room (I know because she bragged about it), but that’s nothing a quick Clorox wipe to my brain can’t take care of.

Things are looking very good. My tattoo is healing surprisingly well, and even if that’s the craziest thing I do before my 26th birthday rolls around, I’ve decided I’m still calling this year a win.

I’m a wild child.

A rebel without a cause.

Ben Shmen, if you ask me.

A phone somewhere in the Western Hemisphere vibrates and I lurch forward to check my screen as if my life depends on it.

Eli notices. “Are you still hoping he’ll text you?”

I decide to throw him off my scent by seeming overly confused. “To whom are you referring?”

Eli knows everything. He knows I snuck off with Ben at the party, knows I slipped out of my panties in response to a dare he delivered. He knows that while I was getting a tattoo permanently inked onto my skin, Ben was cradling my palm and permanently inscribing doodles onto my soul. He knows I pushed Ben to set me up with Andy as a way to make it seem like I wasn’t a total loser. I have options. See?! Maybe your friend wants me. God, it’s so pathetic I want to let my face fall onto my sandwich. I’m really not good at this stuff.

“Look at me,” Eli insists.

I look at his shirt.

“Look at me.”

I glance at a point on the wall just over his shoulder, eyes narrowed.

“Madison, look at me.”

I finally force myself to meet his gaze and it’s just as I feared: intense. He looks like my dad when he’s about to impart some wisdom to me. Oh god, he even puts down his Cheeto. This must be serious.

“Please don’t fall for Ben. I don’t want to be harsh, but I feel like you need to hear the truth. He’s not the guy for you, Maddie.” A knife thrusts itself right into my stomach—a rusty one with a dull blade. “You need someone less…I don’t know. Someone a little bit more attainable, you know?” He bends his head to try to catch my eye because the second he spoke my gaze jerked down to the table. He reaches out for my hand. “It’s better if you two just stay friends. C’mon…Ben Rosenberg? That’s not the guy you want for your first time. Believe me. Need I remind you about Patrick?”

I shake my head. “No, you’re right. Jesus, did you have to say it that way though?”

“It’s better, I swear, like ripping off a Band-Aid. I could have totally tiptoed around it and built up your hopes about him, but then what? You don’t need someone telling you to go for it with a guy like him. That has disaster and heartbreak written all over it.”

“I know.”

They’re the only words I can muster because there are tears burning the corners of my eyes and my throat is closing up tight.

I hate that Eli is right