by Grey, R. S.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear that. You were covering your mouth with your hand.”
Oh right. Oops.
He leans forward and forcibly lowers my hand. We’re touching and my skin is on FIRE and maybe he realizes it because he lets go. It’s too late, though; I can still feel his warmth there, and on a whim, I make a fist as if to try to keep his cooties on me for as long as possible.
“Madison,” he says.
My name is a spell on his lips and I’m sick of being the good girl, sick of always staying in my lane and taking the easy way out of things. One second, I’m standing in front of Ben Rosenberg, too scared to be honest for fear of what he’ll think of me. Then the next, I’m throwing caution to the wind and shouting, “Make me bad!”
I heave a sigh as if I’ve just lifted a million-pound boulder off my chest, and wow I’m still at work and I definitely just caused a ruckus. Jesus, what have I done? Make me bad?! What does that even mean!?
A mom with a small child stomps over between the shelves and looks at me in horror.
“…is the name of the book I was telling you about,” I mumble. “New York Times bestseller, great storyline.” I smile really widely at her to throw her off my scent, but she still leans down for her daughter’s hand and drags her away.
Ben, meanwhile, is looking at me like he’s never looked at me before, like he’s interested in what’s going on inside my head. I hope he finds out because I’d like to know too.
Then, the edge of his mouth tips up and this…this is the last image I want to see before I die of embarrassment: Ben Rosenberg smirking at me—Ben Rosenberg with his perfect jaw-to-cheekbone-to-brow ratio, with his rich person arrogance and his cocky posture. Be still my loins.
“What do you mean, ‘make you bad’?”
He’s barely stifling his smile. I know it.
I roll my eyes and return to my duties of shelving books. “When you say it, it sounds stupid. It’s just part of my birthday resolution. I want to make this year different, more exciting. I have things I want to achieve, but I think I’m too chicken to actually do them on my own. That’s where you come in.”
“Why me?”
“Because, Ben…” Now I’m the one smirking, the one stepping closer and tilting my chin up to stare into those amber eyes. “You’re bad news, remember? The perfect partner in crime. You’ll be like Virgil guiding me through hell.”
He props an elbow on the shelf beside him, addressing me with equal levels of curiosity and amusement. “So what are we talking about here? Eating grapes at the grocery store before we pay for them? Jaywalking?”
I tilt my head back and forth, mocking him. “Oh, yes, ha ha.” Then suddenly, I’m as serious as a heart attack. “No, real stuff. I want to get my first tattoo. I want to go to a party—one where people are making bad decisions and I might too.”
His eyes narrow on me, and I swallow and look away.
There’s another thing—something pivotal—that I’m leaving out. I’ve only ever admitted it to Eli, and he’s never judged me for it. No, I curse myself. It’s not something to be ashamed about. It’s not like I’m some kind of old spinster just because at the ripe old age of twenty-five…
“Also, youshouldknowI’veneverhadsex.”
I say the words so fast it’s like they come out in one lump sum, just a pile of syllables that don’t add up to much, but leave it to a guy to hear the letters s-e-x said in succession and figure out exactly what I meant.
Ben coughs, but it sounds more like a strained choke. “That’s part of it? You want to change that too?” he asks, hoping for clarification.
I nod, and then because he looks like I’ve just demanded that he strip me down right here and do me against one of the bookshelves, and because he looks absolutely horrified at the prospect, I find it important to clarify. “I’m not asking you to change that. Oh my gosh, NO. That’s…” I shake my head, letting that sentence die on my lips. “But you probably have a hot friend or something. I don’t know—we’ll get to that later. I just thought you should know everything before you make your decision.”
He should be turning on his heel and bolting out of the nearest emergency exit. I’ve just laid it all out there for him, all the awkward bits of me that, in normal circumstances, I’d rather die than reveal. In a way, it makes sense. It’s much harder to share dirty secrets with family and friends, people in your close circle, people you’ll have to be around for the next fifty years. Ben Rosenberg is so far out of my league, out of the realm of possibilities, that somehow, my secrets are safe with him.
I glance up and try to discern what he’s thinking. Are we about to shake on this and call it a deal or am I going to have to find some other person to push me out of my comfort zone? I fidget and wrinkle my nose, brush a few stray pieces of hair away from my face, thinking, very hard, about turning and walking away from him without another word. I’ll go my way. He’ll go his. We’ll never see each other again. In time, I’ll be able to convince myself this whole afternoon was some horrible nightmare.
“When do we start?”
I blink twice as his question sinks in, and then hope blooms on my face. He’s going to do it?! His features don’t change. He’s as hard and unyielding as I’ve ever seen him. If he thinks it’s awkward that I’ve just discussed my virginity with him, he doesn’t let it show.
I clear my throat and try to sound nonchalant as I reply, “Next Saturday. You come volunteer in the morning and—”
“No.” He shakes his head just once. “Too much time for you to chicken out. Tonight, my friend’s having a party. Jake Larson—you know him?”
My eyes widen. “He’s friends with my brother.”
“Is that a problem?” he asks, boldly.
My heart pounds wildly.
“No, you’re right. There’s no problem.”
7
Ben
I’m still not wholly convinced this isn’t one big joke. What are the odds I’d end up stumbling upon Madison in the library and she’d tug me between two bookshelves then beg me to help make her into a bad girl? It can’t be real, any of it. It’s nearly pornographic. Her, in that dress, the pale blue color setting off her bright eyes and flushed skin and generous lips…and hell, I was still recovering from the shock of seeing her again when she launched into her master plan, or rather, her ultimatum: if I didn’t help her, she wasn’t going to let me volunteer here. It’s hot air. I could go around her. She has a boss. I could find a way to volunteer pretty easily, I’m sure of it. Still, I like her gumption, not to mention the fact that there’s no way I’m going to say no to her. Why the fuck would I? It’s not like she’s asking me to move mountains. In fact, she’s requesting the exact opposite.
Make her bad.
Jesus.
I’m losing my head.
I’ve been out of high school for over a decade and here I stand, feeling like I’m eighteen again. This whole thing feels wrong. She’s the innocent little librarian and I’m apparently the last man on earth her father wants her to be talking to. I guess everyone has a little rebel inside them.
“What time is his party?” she asks, glancing down at her hands.
I want to smile, but I don’t. Something tells me she wouldn’t appreciate being the butt of a joke right now. I can tell she’s nervous around me. She meets my eyes every now and then, but it’s fleeting. She’s fidgety, shifting back and forth on her feet. Maybe she doesn’t want to get caught slacking on the job, or maybe she doesn’t want to get caught between these shelves with me. Either way, she’s blushing and her heart is racing. I know it.
“People should get there around 8:00,” I explain.
Her brows shoot up. “I’m usually in bed with a good book by like 8:15.”
The corner of my mouth hitches up. “Backing out already?”
Her head tips up and her gaze locks on mine. My taunt has finally forced her to show a little pride.
“No,” she emphasizes with a steely tone.
&nbs
p; I nod. “Right. Then I’ll pick you up on my way.”
Her eyes widen in alarm. “That’s probably not a good idea, considering…” She shakes her head. “I’ll just have my brother take me. I’m sure he’s going.”
Fine. Makes sense. I’ll still see her there.
After we agree, our conversation shifts to volunteering. She walks me through the children’s area, explaining the basics. It’s not exactly rocket science, which is good because I barely listen to a word she says. I’m still hung up on her revelation. Virgin. Madison Hart is a virgin. How is that possible? Was she homeschooled? No. Kept under lock and key? Not likely. Hidden away from every man in the entire world? If her dad had anything to do with it, yes.
There’s no way around it—she’s a knockout. I even try to look at her objectively, stripping away the details I’ve come to know: the girl-next-door charm, the enigmatic appeal. Are there men who don’t like large green eyes? Guys who aren’t into dark brown hair and fair skin? Maybe, but that means they’re idiots or blind. Those are the only two options. I guess some might prefer obvious beauty, the done-up sex dolls, but Madison is obviously beautiful, just not conventionally beautiful. There’s a difference.
“Ben, are you listening?” she asks as leads me through a doorway.
“Yeah.”
No, I am not listening. I’m staring at her profile and thinking about how I’m going to navigate this mission she’s just thrust upon me. I keep waiting for her to break character, crack up, and tell me she’s been teasing me all along, but she doesn’t.
We’re back in the storage room now and it’s a complete mess. Apparently, she’s been asking her intern to come down and rearrange some of the boxes for a while, but she hasn’t gotten around to it, so that means the task now falls to me. It’s my first duty as a volunteer.
“The boxes are kind of heavy,” she laments before glancing over at my arms. Her brows lift before she jerks her attention back to the boxes. “But I guess that won’t be a problem for you.”
Her phone rings at her desk and she has to run to answer it. She tells me to come find her if I have any questions, but like I said, this isn’t groundbreaking stuff. The boxes are labeled and easy enough to lift onto the shelves.
I’m left back there by myself, alone with my thoughts. It’s probably for the best. I have some things on my mind anyway.
On the surface, it might seem like I have a schoolboy crush on Madison. I obviously find her attractive. Her personality, while a little different, has a strange appeal. I like her honesty and openness. There’s no cool facade to her. She is who she is and it’s a refreshing thing to encounter in an age when everyone’s so obsessed with filters and false appearances.
The dreams I’ve been having about her would further confirm my crush, but then I remind myself that they probably don’t mean what I think they do. That night a few weeks ago was a harrowing experience for the both of us. I came to her defense when she was in a life-threatening situation. Obviously, it had some kind of impact on me.
The alternative—that I’m dreaming about her because I’m harboring feelings—is out of the question now.
By revealing her birthday resolution, by laying every bit of herself on the line for me, she effectively stamped out any potential there was for us. I might not be a complete gentleman, but I’m also not such an asshole that I’d pursue and toy with the emotions of a girl like her. She’s innocent, and not just when it comes to matters of the bedroom. I can’t believe how honest she was with me, a perfect stranger. I could use that honesty against her. A lesser man probably would.
It suddenly feels like I’m her confidant, her accomplice in a daring mission. She wants to change her life and check things off her bucket list. Some might find it a little ridiculous, childish even. To me, it’s daring. So many people wake up and repeat the same things day in and day out. How many have the courage to shake things up? To reject the safety of their routine? I haven’t stepped out of my comfort zone in years, and maybe I need this as much as she does.
Even all of that aside, the final nail in the Ben and Madison coffin was hammered home when she openly rejected the idea of sleeping with me and then followed it up by casually mentioning the idea of doing so with one of my friends.
The thought stings a bit, so I shove it aside and get to work moving boxes.
I’m down there for two hours, tidying the place up. When I’m done, the closet is ten times more organized than it was when I found it. Madison can hardly believe her eyes when she comes down to see it. Eli’s with her, and I could hear them talking and laughing out in the hall. Apparently, they’re good friends, not just work colleagues, and I wonder why in the world he hasn’t tried dating her—or maybe he has? Maybe he’s stuck in the friend zone?
Madison steps inside and spins in a circle with her arms outstretched. “Oh my gosh, Ben! You’re amazing! There’s so much room in here now!”
Eli swoops in and grabs her hands, spinning her around and around. I watch from the doorway, curious about their friendship. They seem so comfortable with one another. He wraps one arm around her back then dips her low and she goes with it, trusting him completely. Her dress slides up her creamy thigh just enough to catch my attention, but then he yanks her back up to stand and they switch.
“Okay, do me! Do me!” Eli says, forcing her arm around his back.
I chuckle then, wondering if he might not be interested in Madison the same way I am.
“Eli and his boyfriend have been taking ballroom dancing lessons,” Madison explains to me over her shoulder.
“I’m better at it than he is,” he confirms proudly.
“Is that one of the things on your list? Dance lessons?” I ask, watching Madison as she’s forced to use both of her arms to pick Eli back up from his courageous dip. His head nearly collided with the ground.
Eli glances between us with a frown as he straightens his shirt. “What list?”
Madison clears her throat and waves her hand. “Oh, I just gave Ben a list of things to do on his first day of volunteering—clean up down here, reorganize the shelves, that kind of thing.” She turns to me and her voice takes on a joking lilt. “Ha ha, no, Ben. No dancing is required of library volunteers.”
Her lie further confirms my suspicion—I really am her only confidant. Not even Eli knows what she’s up to. He nods, buying the terrible lie, but when Madison looks my way again, I arch a brow.
Her cheeks burn red before she looks away.
I like knowing her secrets.
I like seeing how flustered she is now, scared I’ll reveal everything. I won’t, of course, because where’s the fun in that?
We stay down there for a little while. I ask how long they’ve been friends and learn they both sought out jobs at the library right after college. Eli says Madison is great with the kids, patient and enthusiastic. She beams under his praise and then waves it off. “Anyone would do the same. It really is a fun job.”
No, not everyone would do the same.
“So you’ll be with us for the next few weeks, Ben?” Eli asks, giving me a quick once-over.
I nod. “Just until I fulfill my community service requirement.”
“Ben’s a hardened criminal,” Madison quips. “Didn’t you know?”
Eli feigns a damsel-in-distress faint. “As if you weren’t making us all suffer enough already.”
I smile and catch Madison’s gaze on me. She’s been studying me, stealing glances when she doesn’t think I notice. The fact that I’ve caught her sends her into a near tailspin.
“Right, well, the library is closing soon and I still need to go finish a few things,” she says, making a move to exit the room.
I step into her path and glance down at the top of her head. Good thing I don’t have any plans to kiss her because if I did, she’d need a step ladder.
“So we’re still on for tonight?”
She doesn’t meet my eyes as she nods, confirming she’ll be at the party.
/> I don’t actually think she’ll show.
* * *
“I need you on wingman duty tonight,” Andy says, rubbing his hands together like he’s got a plan. “I’m finally gonna go for it with Arianna. I’m not fully convinced she’s into me, into me, but I have it figured out. I just need you to stand there and not say a word. I mean, truly don’t say a word. Act like a bump on a log, and that’ll give me the chance to charm her with my witty conversation skills.”
“Can’t. I invited someone.”
We’re standing in Jake’s kitchen later that night. He has a new condo out on the beach. It’s nice, modern, not quite my style, but I can see the appeal. The entire back wall is made of glass panels that slide open, and if the weather wasn’t so cold, I’m sure he’d have them pushed to the side so people could mingle out on the deck. As it is, most everyone’s in the living room, except for me and Andy. He dragged me into the kitchen to go over his master plan.
“What? Who’d you invite?”
“Madison Ha—”
He jerks back from the kitchen island, hands flying to grip either side of his head like I’ve just admitted to murder. “NO. Tell me, for the love of God, you didn’t.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen since his brown eyes get so wide. His reaction seems a little over the top.
“What? Why is that a problem?”
He starts listing things off with his fingers. “Umm, her dad’s the police chief. Her brother—also a gun-toting police officer, who by the way—hates your fucking guts.”
Eyes narrowed in thought, I ask, “How do you know her brother hates me?”
He starts to pace, hands digging into his hair. “What do you mean? Everyone knows that. You stole his girlfriend back in high school, remember? Kylie, Kira—something like that. She didn’t live here long, but you plucked her away from him like it was the easiest thing you’ve ever done, not to mention we totally messed with the public school kids any chance we could get. Remember the parking lot incident? The bonfire? The dog poop!?”
