Make Me Bad - R.S. Grey Page 0,83

sack, now you’re just going to walk around smiling all the time?”

“Maybe.”

Arianna and Kevin make fake gagging sounds, but I don’t care. I’m floating. Permanently. Life continues on below me, but I’m on a cloud, and my happiness is untouchable. It’s glorious.

“We might not be able to be friends anymore,” Eli quips.

I poke him in the ribs and steal one of his chips. Then I adjust Ben’s baseball hat on my head and try very, very hard to seem appropriately happy. It doesn’t work. They all groan and throw chips at me. Joke’s on them though because I’m hungry.

It’s Saturday and we’re all at the park together. Andy and Ben are out tossing a football around. The rest of us are under an oak tree lying on blankets, enjoying the good weather.

Oh, and don’t worry, a few guys showed up with a frisbee a few minutes ago and Ben forced them to go to the other side of the park.

“My hero!” I shouted, making everyone laugh.

Ben and I are still in the beginning stage of our relationship, working out all the kinks, like do we want to have sex eighty times a week or ninety? It’s been a real challenge.

Joking aside, I’ve had to be careful with my time. I don’t want to get so involved with Ben that I neglect my dad and brother. In the last week, I’ve gone to see my dad twice after work. I cooked him dinner and played cards, even helped him with particularly stump-worthy crossword clues. Last night, Colten was there too, and it was a little awkward. I could tell neither of them was quite ready to put the beach incident behind them. They were tiptoeing around it, asking about my apartment and work.

If they’d had it their way, I wouldn’t have brought Ben into the conversation at all, but I had to address it. Ben is here to stay (hopefully!), so my dad and Colten are just going to have to get over it.

I told them, very plainly, that I had no plans to end my relationship with him.

We subsequently ate the rest of dinner in silence.

I wince just thinking about it, which is the reason I have to do something. Life can’t continue like this. I have a plan. I’m going to host a breakfast at my apartment and everyone will be invited: Ben, Colten, and my dad.

In my head, I envision it playing out like a United Nations round-table discussion with the addition of freshly-baked pastries and orange juice. We’re all going to leave our weapons at the door and put on our most diplomatic smiles. Everything will work out and we’ll be singing Kumbaya by the end of it.

This is all well and good, but I don’t work up the courage to actually initiate the breakfast for another month.

I’m scared. Honestly. What if the relationship between Ben and my family is irreparable? What if I have to choose sides? No. I refuse to dwell in those negative thoughts. Instead, I focus on the things I can control, like how to whip up some freaking stellar scrambled eggs. Potentially laced with some kind of feel-good drug.

Saturday—a month into my relationship with Ben—I wake up bright and early in my apartment and get to work fixing a feast using my microwave and recently purchased hotplate, and when that turns out abysmally, I run to the donut shop down the street and order two dozen glazed donuts fresh out of the fryer. My cheap coffee pot doesn’t produce the best cup of joe, so I have Ben stop to grab a carafe from Starbucks.

Now we all sit around the cheap card table in my apartment with the gold lamp adding harsh lighting to an already tense situation.

We have enough coffee and donuts to stuff our mouths for a week and thus far, that’s exactly what we’ve done.

Conversation has been limited. I’ve tried and failed to initiate all sorts of bonding moments. I casually laid out a newspaper highlighting the Astros’ win over the Cubs last night. Boys like baseball. It’s simple. They should all be discussing it ad nauseum. Unfortunately, they don’t bite.

I have music playing on my phone, my dad’s favorite: George Straight. He should be tapping his foot under the table and swaying side to side. Instead, nothing. His face is stone cold.

Colten keeps glancing over at Ben, shaking his head, and then forcing down another sip of coffee.

Ben, to his credit, isn’t necessarily antagonizing them, but he’s not