Make Me Bad - R.S. Grey Page 0,70

I’m sorry. I had to say it.

Anyway, I barely sleep. I stay up all night, scrolling websites for places to rent and not so subtly checking my phone to see if Ben is ever going to call me back. I’ve never actually looked at real estate in Clifton Cove before. There aren’t many apartments nearby and absolutely none in my price range. The city council has strict zoning laws, making it nearly impossible for large apartment complexes to be built in the desirable parts of town. Mostly, they’re relegated to the outskirts, near the insane asylums and hazardous waste dump sites and outlet malls. My commute to the library would be quadruple what it is now. I’d rather stay within walking distance. I just need to figure out how.

Eventually, I do sleep. I’m not sure when it happens, but I wake up the next morning with my iPad covering my face and a thin layer of drool coating the screen.

I jerk up and see the bag at the foot of the bed with clothes spilling out. A ball of anxiety forms in the pit of my stomach.

Can I really do this?

I love this house. I love my dad. Sure, he kind of ruined the best moment of my life last night, but he’s a really nice dad and he did the best he could all on his own. He never forced me into Girl Scouts when all the neighborhood moms were pressuring him to. Also, he let me eat ice cream whenever I wanted, and he let me stay up extra late on the weekends to watch movies with him and Colten. These are important things. These are the reasons my heart is heavy as I pad downstairs.

He’s in his usual spot, crossword in hand, glasses perched on his nose.

He glances up at me and I can see the remorse in his eyes.

I should handle this gently. I should come up with a very strategic way of leading into the subject…

“Dad, I’m moving out.”

17

Ben

I acted like a fool last night. When I look at the situation from Madison’s dad’s perspective, I hate myself. Madison had a few shots and might not have been the best swimmer to begin with. I had ahold of her in the water, but what if something had happened? What if a wave had come that was a little too big? Too powerful? It’s not like I was looking. I was completely possessed by her. What if she’d fallen under and the tide had swept her out of my reach? It was too dark to see more than a few yards away. I wouldn’t have been able to find her. She wouldn’t have been able to tell which way was up or down.

Fuck.

Sharks—what if there was a shark?

Stingrays.

Jellyfish.

Whatever. I’m going into a tailspin. The point is, I’m an idiot for taking her there, for daring her to strip and pushing her when she didn’t really want to go in. I should have never let her drink that whiskey. I could have taken it from her. I should have fought harder for her when her dad showed up. I stayed silent, thinking it was more respectful to let him get his anger out than to speak up and contradict him, but by not defending myself, was it just as bad as admitting guilt?

Oh god, I am guilty. Of taking her there. Of putting her in that situation.

Maybe I’m as bad as her dad thinks I am.

I say all of this to Andy. I’m at his house the next morning, tearing my hair out, pacing, refusing food.

“You’re in a bit of a pickle, huh, bud?” he says, propping his feet up on his coffee table and sipping his coffee.

He’s wearing flannel pants and slippers. What man owns and proudly wears slippers?

“What do you think I should do?”

“Oh, you have quite a few options, right? You can give up all hope and move on, find some other willing female to warm your bed. That wouldn’t be too hard. My birthday is next month, and Arianna and I have already started planning a party—there’ll be plenty of women there for you to meet.”

I shoot him a deadly glare and he shrugs, unperturbed.

“Or you could fight for her? Go talk to her dad? See if you can’t change his mind about you?”

“And say what exactly? I didn’t mean to endanger her life last night? I didn’t mean to sneak her out of your house? It was all an accident? I just