Page 95 of The Good Girl's Guide to Being Bad

My eyes snapped to his. “Really? You don’t remember?”

You don’t remember asking me to stay or encouraging me to dance—or saying I was beautiful? You don’t remember sleeping with me snugly fitted to your chest, your arm hugging my waist, the same position I woke up in before I snuck out early the next morning?

“It’s all hazy,” Colton said. “But what’d you expect? I was out of it from the medicine, delirious with fever.”

My chest deflated. Oh well, I thought, I guess it was good that he didn’t remember. Maybe it would make dancing together less awkward. For him anyway. I still remembered everything with perfect clarity.

Colton crossed his arms. “What other one did you do?”

My entire body heated this time, part embarrassment, part something else entirely. I so didn’t want to talk about this with Colton, but he was my coach so… “I ordered some lingerie the other day online,” I said. “It’s a corset. I was thinking I could use it as part of my costume.”

“What color?” he asked.

“Red.”

“I’ll need to see that.”

“What?” I asked, my gaze returning to his. “Is that really necessary?”

Colton’s face was impassive. “You heard me. As your coach, I’ll need to see this so-called lingerie. It’s important that I be included in all aspects of your naughty list.”

“Okaaay,” I said slowly. “But for the hundredth time, it’s not a naughty list. And I definitely picked out something nice.”

“I’m sure you did.”

There was something in his voice, in the way he was staring that made my throat go dry.

“So that just leavesDancer’s Edgeand the tattoo, right?” he said. “You decide what to do about that?”

I shook my head. I’d actually thought about this one a lot. “I did some research, and it takes a while for tattoos to heal. Almost two weeks, right? For the dance, we’ll have to touch each other a lot, and I wanted it on my wrist—plus, to be honest, I’m not even sure I want a tattoo anymore.” A shiver went down my spine. “I’ve read so many horror stories about pain and infection. Not proud of it, but Google may have officially scared me off.”

“Never fear,” Colton said, pulling something out of his pocket. “I’ve got you covered.”

Looking at the small paper squares in his hand, I noticed a dragon, daisy, and what looked like some words in cursive. My heart warmed. It was number seven on my list.

7) Get a tattoo (daisy, dragon, lyrics/book quote?)

“See,” Colton said, holding them up, “even though I was sick I was still being an awesome coach.”

“I see,” I swallowed, hoping I could control myself and not just tackle him right then and there.

“Which one do you want?”

Clearing my throat, I said, “What’s the last one say?”

Colton grinned. “It says: I love Mr. Darcy. You know, from that dumb show you made me watch?”

“Pride and Prejudice?”

“Yeah, that one,” he said. “I finished it and a ton of other movies while Mom kept me hostage in the house—which includedA Walk to Remember, have to give them props for the tattoo idea, but seriously? That movie is sad as hell. By the way, back toPride and Prejudice, I knew I didn’t trust Wickham. Darcy turned out to be pretty decent though.”

I nodded unable to speak.

“So?” he said again. “Which do you want?”

“The daisy,” I said. Because although I did love Mr. Darcy, he was a fictional character. The guy in front of me, on the other hand, the one who was gently applying the daisy tattoo to the inside of my wrist, brows furrowed in concentration? He was all real. Colton was more real than anyone I’d ever met, and I knew that although I’d never have him, although he didn’t feel the same, my love for him was real, too.

Colton straightened after applying the tattoo and caught me staring.

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