Loved By The Bad Boy

Loved by the Bad Boy MARAMARTHA Copyright © 2023 by Maramartha All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The moral right of Maramartha to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Aside from some locations that are used for credibility purposes. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Amanda Steel and Most Beautiful. Thank you for reminding me why I write. Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Connect with me One BEN I missed Gracie’s calls. I missed her mother’s calls, even her brother’s. The only one who didn’t call was her dad. Unsolicited images of my phone with their names on the screen spring up in my mind. They must think I’m an asshole. But I’ll rather be called that than given an ultimatum. Olivia pinches me. I fake a groan, and she chuckles. She is much better, but I’m still a bit wary. We stop in front of the art room. I spare a glance at the hallway as if expecting someone to walk up to us and draw me into a much-needed hug. I’m barely surviving. Gracie should be in school today, but I haven’t seen her or her car. Not that I was looking. It will be easier to carry on if she is present. She has been the topic for a while. Olivia stares at me for a second, then enters the class. “Why do you look so sad?” Olivia says once seated. I shrug in reply. I’m not sad. I’m just there. She pulls out a stool for me to sit while she sets her equipment on the table. “You look like your puppy died.” “I don’t have a puppy.” I’m not too fond of animals. “Just call her already.” I slide my phone into my front pocket. I don’t recall bringing it out, but I’m not calling anyone. Why does Olivia care now? Why haven’t I changed my lockscreen picture? I must hate myself. It wouldn’t matter if I picked Gracie over Olivia. She would always question herself. The issue is with her and her low self-esteem, not me or my relationship with Olivia. “You keep zoning out. Call your girlfriend already. You know you want to, Benjamin.” Anger simmers under the polite smile I offer Olivia. She is getting on my last nerve, but I chose this, right? I picked her. As soon as the investigations are over, I’ll take a long break from this friendship and everything related to girls. They are exhausting. Boys don’t think too much about unnecessary things or put as much thought into relationships like girls do. Noah has never once complained that I don’t hang out with them as much as I did before I started dating Gracie. I settle down beside Olivia when she brings out a new canvas. This one is for me. “Who do you think did it?” Olivia asks when I don’t provide an answer to her former questions. The video might be down, but the murmurs have not stopped. I’m not sure they ever will unless something new happens. Something newer and bigger. “I think it’s someone we all know, Ben.” Maybe. Maybe not. “I don’t know,” I reply. I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know if I did the right thing by walking away from my love. Olivia offers me a paintbrush, and I dip it into the bowl of red paint. The principal set up a committee to find the culprit, but no one is forthcoming. “How are you?” I have no idea what I’m drawing or painting, but I keep making strokes on the canvas. “Good,” she replies with a smile. The sincerity coating her voice makes me drop my brush. I’ve known her long enough to identify her fake and real smiles. “Mrs. Mower came to the house.” Gracie’s mother. I close my eyes to stop that image of Gracie’s heartbroken face when I called her Tessa. I didn’t mean to. But when she hugged me so tight, and I couldn’t get away from her, it reminded me of Tessa. I felt trapped again. The room became claustrophobic, and I panicked. “What did she say?” None of us have spoken about the incident that happened the last time I was at her house. If my outburst had an effect, I don’t know, and I don’t ask because I don’t know how to. She made me promise not to tell anyone. She doesn’t know I told my girlfriend her deepest, darkest secrets. “I don’t know,” Olivia murmurs. She switches my canvas with hers to rectify the damage I did on mine. “But there was a lot of shouting between them. It was a lot,” she says with a giggle. I’m annoyed at her for making light of the situation, but also glad she sounds closer to her true self. The one that can be nicer to people. “But it was okay, I guess, since we spoke to the police later.” “The police?” I ask, and she nods. I didn’t