Page 19 of The Bad Boy Rule

My heels click along the hardwood in a low echo, even over the sound of light classical music by the pianist in the back ofthe room, and I put on another fake smile, mumbling apologies as I push through the crowds toward the exit. When I finally get to the bathroom at the end of the hallway, opening the door and slipping inside, relief floods me in a wave.

It’s completely empty. The silence is a welcome reprieve.

A shaky exhale jumps past my lips as I walk over to the large mirror on the bathroom wall and peer into it, gaze roving over my reflection staring back.

The pale yellow Valentino draped silk gown is exactly the type of dress that my mother loves to dress me in, and admittedly, one that I would’ve chosen myself, given the chance. Its hem kisses the floor, the cowl neckline showing a modest hint of my chest, the waist cinched with a dainty gold clasp. Although it’s classic and beautiful, wearing it makes me feel like a shiny show pony trapped by my parents’ whim. Each step is choreographed, every breath measured. Captive in their relentless, never-ending parade.

My long, red hair is curled in soft, flowy waves down to my waist, with a small pearl clip pinning one side just behind my ear, showing off the pink sapphire earrings my parents gifted me when I was a freshman in high school.

Sighing, I brush my fingers through my hair and take one last, final look at my reflection, soaking up the few remaining seconds of quiet. Seconds I know I’ll undoubtedly wish for the moment I’m back out there.

I truly don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this until I break.

Until I lose even more of myself than I already have.

Swallowing, I swing the door open and step back into the bustle of people, instantly regretting that I didn’t accept the offer of champagne.

Maybe tonight would’ve been slightly more tolerable.

Suddenly, I feel a hand curving around my elbow, and my father appears in front of me. “Oh, Lennon, there you are, sweetheart. There’s someone here to see you.” The creases of his black tux are starched to perfection, his smile wide, causing the corners of his eyes to wrinkle slightly.

The person who steps out from behind him makes my stomach dip, and unease races down my spine. A giant lump settles at the base of my throat, and for a second, panic seizes my chest so intensely that it feels like I can’t actually breathe.

No. What is he doing here? I haven’t seen him since… since he cheated on me.

“Sweetheart, I know that you and Chandler had a slightdisagreementin the past, but he cares about you, and he’s willing to look past the… rough spot. To give your relationship a second chance.”

My jaw falls open.

I shouldn’t be as shocked as I am that he’s done this, but then again, I never expected him to be so completely…heartless.

I met Chandler for the first time at an event our parents forced us to attend. Our fathers do business together, and we bonded over our common dislike of having to be dragged along to the events.

At first, we struck an easy friendship that was the result of our social circles spinning around each other.

But then in high school, that friendship turned into something… more.

Chandler Masters was every girl’s dream.

Senior.

Captain of the soccer team.

Insanely hot with tousled blond hair, a bright, blinding smile, and charm that could disarm anyone.

From the moment that he gave me the attention I was craving, he had me eating out of the palm of his hand. I was young and stupidly thought I was in love.

A deadly combination when it came to a guy like him. I fell hard and fast, not caring how hard it would hurt when I finally hit the bottom. Naivety will do that to you. Make you feel invincible when you have no idea what’s coming next, only the high of the feeling you can’t get enough of.

“Lennon, stop being silly. Talk to me.” Chandler’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, the timbre more whiny than I remember. He reaches for me, brushing his fingers along my arm, and I physically recoil, my stomach blanching. “Don’t be like this, baby. It’s gone on long enough.”

“Do not touch me. Don’t you dare put your hands on me,” I hiss, completely disgusted by the smug, arrogant smile on his lips.

Disgusted byhim.

God, he actually thinks that I would fall for this? That I would allow him to touch me after everything he’s done?

Looking back, I hate the girl I became when I was with Chandler. The one who shrunk herself to fit the box he placed me in, the same box my father wanted me in. The one where I let all of my dreams and ambitions take a back seat to what they wanted. I wasn’t Lennon anymore; I was Chandler Masters’s girlfriend.

---