The Truth About Bad Boys

Ezra's Party

Memphis’s POV

I’ll give it to you straight here: I’m scared.

I’ve slept with exactly four guys since I was raped. One, Matt Hirsch, was my long-time boyfriend, so he doesn’t really count. One was Luke, the bartender, who you already know about. One was a boy at a Granger High party—that is, the public high school—and one was a college boy at a Stanford party. All were mistakes.

Hey, I never said I don’t have problems. You try not having problems after being drugged and raped. It’s scary s**t.

Anyway, I never developed a lick of feelings for any of those four guys, nor for any others that I’ve encountered along the way. So, even though I’ll always be scared when it comes to physicality, I wasn’t quite as scared as I am now—when it comes to an actual, emotional connection.

This is new territory.

He said all the right things. He looks damn perfect, as we already know. But, in a way, all that makes him even scarier. If there was some imperfection—some problem—then my heart wouldn’t be quite so at risk. You know?

He’s been texting me quite a bit—not quite frequently enough to turn me off, but not infrequently enough to make me question his interest. I want to reply to every single text as soon as I receive it, but I don’t. I can’t encourage him. Not until I figure out what I want.

- - - - -

“Are you sure about this?” I ask Tally as we put the finishing touches on our hair and makeup that Saturday night. We’re getting ready for a Seacoast party—specifically, Ezra’s party.

“I’m sure about this,” Tally says confidently from her spot in front of the mirror, where Bridget is attempting to curl her stick-straight hair. “But are you? You don’t have to come, you know.”

Her concern is valid; as you’ll recall from our little trip to Seacoast, prep school boys’ events make me nervous, thanks to past experiences. But Seacoast isn’t Lancaster, as Gray has proven to me. And anyway, we’ll look out for each other.

“I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “Just promise me you won’t go off with him, would you? If you hit it off tonight, make him take you out on a proper date.”

Tally rolls her eyes at that, which is fair. Tally is the purest, most virginal seventeen-year-old I know; she has no intentions of giving it up to a guy she barely knows, even a guy as cute as Ezra.

“Have you worked up the nerve to invite Gray yet?” Bridget asks me as she finishes the last of Tally’s curls and unplugs the wand.

I bite my lip, averting her gaze. The truth is, I haven’t texted Gray back in several days. “No. It doesn’t really seem like his scene, does it?”

I’m not actually sure of that at all. Gray and I haven’t discussed Ezra; in fact, there are a lot of things I’d like to discuss with him that I haven’t.

But I have a feeling they aren’t friends.

So I decide not to text him.

- - - - -

About an hour into the party, I text him.

I decide to start small, of course. Hey.

“Hey,” says a guy near me and Bridget. He looks about as preppy and fratty as Ezra himself, who’s currently flirting with Tally by the minibar. “I know you.”

I look away from the guy and down at my phone. Hey, beautiful. How are you?

God, I like him.

“I don’t think so,” I tell the guy. “I’m Mem. This is Bridget.”

“Mem,” he repeats. “Memphis, right? Yeah, I’ve heard of you.”

I try not to grind my teeth as I compose a message back to Gray. I’ve been better. You won’t believe where I am.

I hope he meant it when he said he hadn’t heard of me. Apparently I was right that word gets around about me. I don’t know what asshole started the rumors, but I’d sure like to kick him in the ass.

“Can I get you a drink?” the boy asks, leaning in way too close.

“Easy, there,” Bridget says, stepping between me and him to gently shove him away. “She’s got a drink already.”

Please tell me you are not at Ezra Finnigan’s party.

“Not a drink, then,” the guy says. “But maybe a dance?”

“No, thanks.” Unfortunately, yes.

“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. I hear I’m just your type.”

Okay, this douche bag has officially gone from being annoying to straight up pissing me off. I give him my undivided attention for the first time all night, looking him straight in the eyes, and saying, “You are further from my type than Pluto is from here. f**k off, Bro-for-Brains.”

His jaw drops as he stares at me, flabbergasted. Before either of us gets a chance to say anything else, though, I hear the unmistakable sound of a girl whimpering.

Not just any girl. My girl.

I whirl around toward the source of the noise and shriek when I see Ezra aggressively sticking his tongue down his throat.

“Hey!” I shout, nearly knocking over Bro-for-Brains in my sprint toward Tally and Ezra. “Get off her!”

Ezra pulls reluctantly away from Tally, who looks mortified. “Who the hell are you to tell me who to mack on?” he barks at me. “Do I even know you?”

“I’m fine,” Tally assures me. “Everything’s fine.”

“I’m her friend,” I snarl at Ezra. “Who heard her whimpering from across the room.”

“Yeah,” he says, dark grin forming, “well, sometimes, when a girl whimpers...”

The guys around him burst out laughing and high-fiving each other. Tally continues to look mortified; I continue to feel like my head is about to explode.

“Why don’t we go upstairs?” Ezra asks Tally. “It’s much… quieter… up there.”

I nearly lock up at that, and I don’t start breathing again until Tally says the magic words, “No… that’s okay.”

“Come on. Just to talk. I swear.”

He doesn’t even sound like he’s trying to be sincere.

“She said no,” I snap, fighting my way between them and pushing her gently behind me. “We’re leaving.”

The guys around us continue to chuckle; Ezra doesn’t move a muscle. “Easy, tiger,” he says to me in a husky voice. “There’s room for you up there, too, you know. That’s what you’re into, isn’t it?”

So he does know me. At least, he knows of me.

“Come on,” says Bridget, taking both me and Tally by the arms. “Time to go.”

I reluctantly follow her toward the door, then freeze in my tracks when I see who comes through it: Gray.

His eyes trail from me to the girls, back to Ezra, who is undoubtedly still looking at us, cackling with his friends—what have you.

When his gaze finally returns to mine, he looks a vivid mixture of concerned and pissed. And when he speaks, his voice is darker than I’ve ever heard it. “Did he do something to you?”

“No,” Bridget says immediately. “Can we please just get out of here?”

But Gray doesn’t move a muscle, or even blink. His eyes are glued to mine. “Did he hurt you?”

He mentioned getting into fights before, but not until now did I see what that really meant. If I say “yes,” he’s going to tear Ezra Finnigan to pieces.

It shouldn’t be sexy—finding it sexy probably means something is very wrong with me—but I do.

“No,” I finally say. “No—we’re fine.”

He holds my gaze for another second, then, finally, nods. He shoots one, last glare in Ezra’s direction before leading us outside.

“How did you get here so fast?” I ask him as we head toward Tally’s car. “I only texted you a few minutes ago.”

He gestures behind him, toward Seacoast, which is only a few blocks away. “I live close.”

“Well, thanks,” Bridget tells him, “but as you can see, we handled ourselves fine. Your services are no longer required.”

I glance at Gray, feeling guilty. I never actually invited him to come out, but I still feel bad to just walk away from him now that he’s here. Thankfully, I don’t have to say it; Tally does.

“We’re going back to Bridget’s,” she tells him. “Probably just watch some shitty rom coms, eat some carbs, sober up. You can come hang out, if you want.”

Bridget nudges Tally pointedly. I don’t exactly blame her; extending a slumber party invitation to a guy I barely know isn’t exactly what I had in mind.

To my amazement, Gray seems to get that. “I don’t want to interrupt the girl time. Maybe I could just drive Mem back, separate?”

I glance at Bridget, the boss of the group, who shrugs. “Fine. But we’ll be tailing right behind you, so no funny business.”