Page 66 of The Good Girl's Guide to Being Bad

Colton must’ve sensed something because he said, “You scared, Sadie? Don’t be. It’ll be fine.”

“I know.” I took a deep breath. “I’ve just never been to a club before. Kinda nervous is all.”

“Is it the clothes?” he said, shooting a look of disdain at my jacket, cardigan and jeans ensemble. “Because if you want, we can always go back and get that dress.”

I rolled my eyes. “I happen to like the way I look, Colton.”

“Even the hair?” he asked dubiously.

My eyes narrowed to slits, the fear of going to a club forgotten for the moment. “There is nothing wrong with my hair. If I remember correctly, you even mentioned something about it giving men ‘wild thoughts.’”

“Hmm…did I? I don’t recall the instance to which you’re referring, Sadie.”

“Do you enjoy irritating me?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” he said with a grin. “Maybe it’s just me, but it feels like there’s something missing from my day if I don’t see the look of derision in your eyes.”

“It’s hate-fire,” I said simply. “My eyes spit hate-fire whenever I’m around high levels of arrogance.”

“If that’s aPitch Perfectreference, I approve.”

I crossed my arms, secretly impressed.

“Does that make me Bumper and you Fat Amy?”

My eyes shot to his. “If you even think of calling me fat at any point tonight, we’re done here.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Colton said, holding up a palm, his eyes creasing when he glanced my way. “And ah, there it is again. The hate-fire I love to see. My day is now complete.”

“You’re an idiot,” I huffed.

“Acca-scuse me?” he said.

I closed my eyes, shook my head, trying desperately not to laugh. Colton Bishop was not funny. Not at all. He was a jerk, I reminded myself, and there was no way I could be amused by someone I found so insanely annoying.

We didn’t talk again until we got to Durham—which was probably for the best. If we’d kept the conversation going, there was a fifty-fifty chance Colton wouldn’t have made it to the club alive. And then my list would never be complete because I’d killed my coach and was in jail for 25 to life. Le sigh.

I met Colton in front of the car, and he said, “Just let me do the talking.”

“I can speak for myself, thanks,” I said back.

Colton shook his head and handed me a card.

“What’s this?” I asked, holding it up to catch the light.

“It’s your ID,” he said, pulling my hand back down. “The one that says your 21 and old enough to do whatever you want once we get in there.”

My jaw dropped as I looked at…well, me. It was a picture from last Halloween when I’d gone as a blonde Bellatrix LeStrange—hence the heavy makeup. I wasn’t sure if it made me look 21, but I definitely looked older.

“Wow,” I said, “did you do this? When did you make it?”

Colton lifted a brow. “A couple nights ago. Now, are we done with the questions?”

“Sure.” I shrugged, fluffing my hair a bit, grateful I hadn’t taken off my makeup. I’d gone a bit heavier for the performance today. “I’m just kind of impressed.”

“Really?” he said, waving as he caught the eye of the bouncer. The big guy smiled and lifted his chin. It looked like they knew each other.

“No,” I said. “I’ll be impressed if we get in there and you show me this natural rhythm you supposedly have.”

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