The Good Girl's Guide to Being Bad

by O'Gorman, Cookie

I shook my head, remembering how Colton had pulled a clean rag out of his center console and offered it to me without saying a word. He’d let me cry for a good five minutes until I was ready to drive again. He hadn’t even said anything when I’d almost taken out one of the mailboxes on the street.

  “Colton was…surprisingly decent,” I admitted. “He didn’t make fun of me—which was weird but in a good way.”

  “Yeah, Colt’s a good guy even if he tries to bury it sometimes.” Kyle smiled. “So, I assume you got that one marked off the list?”

  “Yeah,” I said, smiling back. “I’ll never buy a car like that, but at least now I know how to drive stick.”

  A chuckle came from behind us as Colton stepped up to my side.

  “Yeah, she can drive stick,” he said—then frowned. “But not in my car. Never again, Sadie Day. Never. Again.”

  “Calm the heck down, Colton,” I said. “It’s not like I want to drive your car anyway.”

  He nodded as if I’d just confirmed something. “I’ll see you after school. Meet me in the library.”

  “The library? Why?” I asked, my mind shifting straight to the last time we’d been in the library together. It wasn’t like I could forget our kiss, but I had tried to repress it. I’d done a pretty good job (if you didn’t count all those dreams I kept having) until that moment. The memories came on quick then, escaping one by one, as if a dam had been opened. Colton didn’t help matters. He sighed and stopped me with a hand on my arm.

  “Sadie,” he said, “I’m your coach. You said you’d do what I say without question. Remember the contract you signed?”

  Little tingles were going up and down my arm from where we touched, so I shook him off. I didn’t understand why he was having this kind of effect on me. The memories were unwelcome and so were the feelings associated with them.

  I tried not to show any of this on my face.

  “I never promised not to question,” I said, rubbing the tingles away. “And I didn’t say I wouldn’t meet you. I just want to know what we’ll be doing.”

  Colton looked at Kyle then back to me. “I can’t speak of it in front of the adversary,” he said.

  Kyle laughed and held up his hands, backing away. “Okay, okay, I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll save you guys a seat inside.”

  As he left, I had the strong urge to call him back but didn’t.

  Instead I faced Colton and gestured for him to go on. “Okay, now tell me what’s up.”

  “We need to work on your vocabulary,” he said simply.

  “My vocabulary?” I repeated.

  “You got a problem with that?”

  “No, I love words and learning new things.”

  Colton hung his head on a sigh. “Wow…Sadie, you’re an odd bird, you know that?”

  I shrugged. “People have been saying that my whole life.”

  “Then I’ll see you after school?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Colton nodded, but there was something in his eyes I couldn’t place. It felt like there had to be more to it. Yet, I had agreed to meet with him anyway. Working on my vocabulary sounded innocent enough, and he was right. I had signed the contract. After three more periods, during which I couldn’t concentrate worth a lick, the final bell rang. I went to my locker to get all of my books then walked to the library in search of Colton. I wasn’t sure where he’d be; he hadn’t said where exactly to meet him. I scanned the seating areas in the front first, but when I saw no sign of Colton, I made my way back to my secret spot in the stacks.

  Sure enough, there he was.

  And he had stolen my favorite chair.

  Ugh.

  Setting my bag down on the table with a thump, I placed my hands on my hips and gave him a look. My glare was completely wasted, of course, because Colton didn’t look up. He was reading a book, and as I peered closer, I saw that the cover was gray and had a close-up of a man kissing a woman’s neck. It looked like a…romance novel, I thought in surprise. And there was no barcode on the side, so it he must’ve brought it from home. I hadn’t even known Colton kept books in his room—not that I’d been there or anything. But I knew Kyle only liked to read non-fiction, so it couldn’t be one of his.

  “What are you reading?” I asked.

  He shut the book with a snap then put it on the table face down.

  “You’re not ready for that yet,” he said. “But with my help, maybe you will be one day.”

  I rolled my eyes, shooting a look at the chair—my chair—that he was sitting in with a leg propped up on one of the arms. “Are you comfortable?”

  “Sure am,” he said, burrowing further into the plush seat. It was one of those old fashioned, over-stuffed library chairs with a high back. I’d sat right there a million times to study, read, watch YouTube, you name it. And now Colton had the nerve to steal my spot. “This chair is like sitting on a cloud. I can’t believe you were selfish enough to keep it all to yourself, Sadie.”

  “Hey, someone put it back here and just forgot about it,” I said. “Plus, I saw it first.”

  Colton raised a brow. “Are you saying you want your chair back?”

  I nodded. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”

  “I do mind,” he said. “You can sit in that fold out chair over there—or in my lap if you want. Either way, I’m not moving.”

  “You’re disgusting,” I said with a huff and plopped into the metal seat across from him. It was cold, uncomfortable, and so un-like my library chair I could cry. Crossing my arms, I wiggled around, trying to find a comfortable position—but it was impossible.

  Colton shook his head, and catching sight of his frown, I stopped moving.

  “What?” I snapped.

  “You going to pout the whole time?” he asked. “Because I really don’t want to listen to you whine about this.”

  “I’m not pouting.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  I wiggled again then sighed.

  “Okay, fine,” Colton said, jumping to his feet. “If it’s so important, you can have your stupid chair back.”

  Giving Colton a strange look, I stayed seated. “Why do you suddenly want to switch?” I asked.

  He blinked.

  “Did you do something to it?” I eyed the once loved seat with newfound distrust. “Plant a whoopee cushion under there or loosen one of the legs so the chair will break right when I sit down?”

  He shook his head, running a hand down his neck. “That was in the fifth grade, and it was one time. Could you get over it already?”

  No, I couldn’t. Colton had pranked me in front of our entire class on Valentine’s Day, and when I’d gone to sit at my desk, carrying a pan full of homemade cupcakes, not only had the cupcakes gone flying. Frosting got on my dress, in my hair. The cupcakes had been ruined, and it had all happened in front of Kyle—who I’d had (and still did have) a major crush on. He’d laughed it off, of course, but I’d been scarred.

  “No,” I said. “I can’t even eat cupcakes anymore because of you.”

  “Well, my hair was blue for weeks because of you,” he said back. “It’s not like you’re a saint, Sadie. You put that hair dye in my shampoo to get back at me. Hell, I couldn’t leave the house.”

  “Did you think I’d let you get away with it?” I laughed, remembering his blue do. It actually had looked good on him—playing off his eyes and giving him kind of a punk-rock vibe—which annoyed me to no end. I’d done it over the holidays, so he wouldn’t have to miss any school, and they could change it back to normal before the end of the break. “You deserved it after what you did.”

  “I said I was sorry,” Colton said.

  I looked up at him. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Well, I’m saying it now, okay? I’m sorry, Sadie. For the cupcakes, for the prank, all of it. Will you switch seats with me and take your stupid chair back now?”

  I got up slowly and sat down even slower, releasing a breath of contentment, eyes falling closed, a
s the cushions hugged me like an old friend.

  “Happy?” he asked.

  I opened my eyes to see Colton sitting in the too-small-for-anyone-but-waaay-too-small-for-him fold out chair.

  “Yes. Thank you,” I said.

  “Yeah well,” he muttered. “Maybe next time you won’t question it if I do something nice for you.”

  I scoffed at that, and he grinned in response.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Doing nice things doesn’t sound like me,” he said. “Bad things, however, are right up my alley.”

  Reaching beneath his book, he slid a notecard across the table.

  “Take a look at that, and let’s get to work.”

  I took the notecard, flipped it over and noticed that it was filled with bad words written in Colton’s handwriting. “What do you expect me to do with this? It’s full of profanity.”

  “I know,” he said. “Just think of it as a vocabulary lesson. I’m about to teach you the art of talking dirty.”

  With wide eyes, I looked at the card again. “You actually want me to say this stuff? Right now, out loud?”

  “Yes,” Colton said as he sprawled his legs out, placed his elbows on his knees and looked straight at me. “It’s time to put a few dents in that good girl image, Sadie. We’ll start with the basics. There are only 10 words on there, and most of them are four-letters or less. No big deal.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was joking. He probably wasn’t. There was a definite taunt in his voice, but he looked like he expected me to do it. And yes, they were mostly four-letter words…but I’d never said any of them.

  “I’m telling you to do it as your coach,” he said, perhaps sensing my hesitation. “Come on, let’s mark this one off the list. If you need it, I give you permission to say anything on that list.”

  “I don’t need anyone’s permission but my own,” I growled.

  “Well, what the hell are you waiting on, Christmas?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Not all of us have been cursing since we were in elementary school, okay? Some of us have to work up to it.”

  “Ah, the good old days of naps and recess,” he sighed. “But seriously, it’s just the two of us. I’m sure you’ve wanted to say all those words—probably to me—at some point.”

  True, I thought. And yet I couldn’t get my mouth to work.

  “Okay, I’ll go first,” Colton said then gestured to the card. “What’s the first word?”

  “It starts with a ‘d’ and beavers make them,” I answered, feeling all kinds of stupid.

  Colton nodded, drumming his fingers on his forearms. “Ah, okay. I must’ve been trying to start you out easy. Damn, that was a damn good idea. Don’t you think so, Sadie?”

  I bit my lip and nodded.

  “Damn right, it was,” he said. “Now, you say it.”

  I did, but it came out whisper-soft.

  “What was that? I couldn’t hear a damn thing.”

  Rolling my eyes, I said it louder. “Damn.”

  Colton whooped and then leaned forward to see the card.

  “Okay,” he said, “next word. Ass. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Of course, it is,” I muttered.

  Colton suddenly groaned, eyes squeezing tight as he gripped his hip with a frown. It looked like he was in a lot of pain.

  “Are you okay?” I asked in concern. Maybe he was having a cramp or something. “Colton, you don’t look so good.”

  “No, I’m not okay,” he said, opening one eye to peer back at me. “My ass hurts from sitting in this damn uncomfortable chair.”

  A surprised laugh escaped me as he sat back up with a grin.

  “You think that’s funny, huh?”

  “A little,” I said.

  “No need to be an ass about it, Sadie,” he said.

  “I wasn’t trying to be an ass,” I said back, but as Colton smiled, I grew unnerved. “What?”

  He raised his hand for a high-five. “Congrats. You just used one of your vocabulary words in a sentence.”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  “You did. And you didn’t even blush once.”

  I gave him a high-five, felt the tingles run up my arm again as my palm connected with his, and quickly pulled back my hand.

  “Let’s keep going,” I said. “The next word starts with a sound you make when things are too loud.”

  “Shhh,” he said, holding a hand out to me and looking around, “shit, Sadie, keep it down, would you? We’re in the library.”

  I couldn’t remember ever having smiled so much in Colton’s presence.

  When we were through, I’d said all 10 words and used them all in sentences—even the big one, the one that starts with ‘f’ and sounds like hockey puck. I didn’t know if I’d ever actually be able to say that one again. Out of all of them, that word was just…so bad. But Colton assured me although some people loved to drop the f-bomb whenever possible, even he didn’t say it very much.

  “I reserve that one for special occasions.” Colton shrugged, his lip piercing glinting as it caught the light. “The f-bomb makes more of an impact if you only use it when you really mean it.”

  To drive home our “lesson,” though, he had me read a passage from the book he’d brought with him.

  “It shouldn’t be a problem since you read stuff like this to those old people. But I’m warning you, Sadie,” Colton said as he handed me the book. “As far as dirty talk goes, the Warden is the best I’ve ever read. If you can read this out loud, then there’s no question you can mark it off the list.”

  I read the pages he’d indicated out loud, and though I hated to admit it, Colton was absolutely right. The books I’d read at Shady Grove were tame in comparison to the sexy, intense paranormal/urban fantasy romance in front of me.

  By the time I was finished even Colton was pink in the cheeks.

  “Are you blushing?” I asked. I almost never got to tease him about anything, so I couldn’t pass up this chance.

  “Yeah right,” he said as he got up and turned to put the book in his bookbag. “That’s your problem, not mine.”

  “I don’t know.” I followed him, raising a finger to his cheek but not touching it. “Your face is warm, and you look kind of pink through here.”

  Colton caught my hand and held it a moment, meeting my eyes, before letting go.

  “You want to cross it off or should I?” he asked after a beat.

  Looking down, I noticed he’d brought out his copy of the list. My list.

  “I’ll do it,” I said, taking a pen and drawing a line through #4 Talk Dirty. My heart lifted as I made that one small stroke. It felt like a giant leap for good girls everywhere. I was smiling again, couldn’t help it.

  “Did that feel good?” Colton asked.

  “Damn good,” I said.

  Shrugging on his backpack, Colton shook his head and then, in a completely surprising move, he reached out and placed a hand on my cheek. I couldn’t be certain, but I thought his eyes had dipped to my lips for a moment. For some unknown reason, this caused my breaths to shorten, my heart beating faster.

  “You should watch that dirty mouth of yours, Sadie,” he said…then leaned closer.

  I couldn’t look away even if I’d wanted to.

  He put his lips right next to my ear and in a hushed voice said, “Who’s the one blushing now?”

  When he removed his hand and stepped back, I swayed forward. The movement was totally unintentional. I wanted to slap myself for it as I noticed Colton’s grin. He walked right by me and didn’t say another word. After he’d gone, I sank back into my favorite chair and let out a curse. It was one of the new words I’d learned today which seemed to fit my mood perfectly.

  Yeah, what he’d said was true. I was blushing. That was nothing new. The new part was it was Colton who was making me blush.

  I wasn’t sure when this new development had started. What I did know was that it needed to stop. Immediately. If not for my own sanity, then for the sa
ke of our partnership. Colton was my coach. He was helping me with my list, and that was it.

  I needed to remember that for next time.

  Turns out, the next few days were Colton-free—which should’ve made me happy.

  But it didn’t.

  Confusion, irritation and a tiny bit of disappointment were what I felt most, but luckily, my mind was on other things at the moment.

  It was midnight on Friday, and I was in the middle of choreographing a new dance. My room had a full-length mirror propped against one wall which allowed me to see the lines and shapes I created, my iPod playing music on the nightstand. I got some of my best ideas at night. My mind would start going right as I tried to fall asleep, and I would have to get up and get it all out before I lost it. This was one of those nights when creativity struck.

  And thank goodness for that.

  Not only did it take my mind off Colton, but with another round coming up for Dancer’s Edge, I knew I had to start choreography if I wanted to finish and make the deadline in a few weeks. The hard part wasn’t coming up with ideas either. It was coming up with good ideas.

  I had journal after journal filled with concepts, and I never knew which ones were creative, unique and difficult enough. Which to pursue and which to leave behind. I mean, when did you know your work was good? Was it when someone else said so? Or did it only matter what you thought? But wasn’t the goal of creating something to share it with others and have an impact?

  Well, that was my goal anyway.

  Ironically, the scariest part of sharing my work…was sharing my work. It was taking that first step. I knew only too well that I couldn’t control how people reacted to the things I created. And I was interested in everything: drawing, photography, dance, poetry, even video games. I’d only ever managed to share a few of my gaming ideas and my dances—but even if I was completely in love with a piece, the Dancer’s Edge people still might hate it.

  I looked to the memory board across from my bed. My rejections letters, all seven of them, were there, printed out and placed where I could see them every day. Too sweet. No edge. Lacks life experience. I was reminded every day of what I needed to work on. But it wasn’t as masochistic as it sounds. The rejections also meant that I’d given it a shot, that I was reaching for my dreams.