The Bad Boy Beta Wants Me

Chapter 2

Hannah

Damien reached the pavement without dropping me, which was considerate of him.

Unfortunately, he seemed aware of it.

“You can stop strangling me now.”

I loosened my arm around his neck. “You could warn somebody before climbing.”

“I thought the upward movement explained it.”

He carried me several feet from the bend and lowered me onto a stone wall beside the path. I tried to arrange my skirt without putting weight on my ankle.

Damien looked away.

That surprised me.

Then he said, “Quite the entrance you’ve made. Shame nobody filmed it.”

The surprise passed.

“Somebody nearly ran me over.”

“I heard.”

“Then perhaps stop enjoying yourself.”

He crouched in front of me, holding my shoe.

“I’m enjoying the conversation. The rescue needs work.”

Under the streetlight, dirt streaked one side of his jacket. I’d left a muddy handprint near his collar.

I looked down at my scraped palm.

He noticed.

“Anything hurt besides the ankle?”

“My hand. My hip.”

“Hit your head?”

“No.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Personality seems unchanged.”

I considered kicking him with my good foot.

⸻

He went back for my bag.

I watched him climb down the bank, the little red glow of his motorcycle’s rear light visible farther along the road. Beside it, a helmet hung from the handlebars.

He’d stopped and come straight over.

I hadn’t thanked him yet.

I was preparing to when he reappeared holding my phone.

“Found the evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“Your successful evening.”

He handed it over, then retrieved my bag from a branch.

The phone’s screen was cracked.

I pressed the side button.

Nothing.

Again.

Still nothing.

“Oh, come on.”

Damien leaned against the wall beside me.

“Shouting usually helps.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re irritating?”

“Not today. Been worried.”

I pressed the button one last time, then lowered the phone into my lap.

Mum would be expecting another message.

My throat tightened.

Damien’s amusement faded.

“Number.”

I looked up.

He held out his own phone.

“Your mother. Unless you want me to call the hall and request a search party.”

“I can do it.”

“Then do it.”

I took the phone, painfully aware that he’d made a perfectly reasonable offer and I’d somehow turned it into another argument.

Mum answered immediately.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Hannah? Whose number—”

“I fell. I’m okay, but I hurt my ankle.”

Her voice changed.

“Where are you?”

I explained, trying to sound calmer than I felt.

Damien moved away while I talked. He checked the road in both directions, then examined something near the verge.

By the time I hung up, Dad was getting the car.

“They’re coming.”

Damien nodded.

“Did you see the driver?”

“No.”

“The car?”

“Dark. I don’t know.”

He glanced toward the bend.

Then he pulled off his jacket.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

“Excellent. Wear this while you demonstrate.”

He placed it around my shoulders.

Warmth settled over my arms, carrying the smell of smoke and something faintly clean beneath it.

“Thank you,” I said.

He looked at me.

“There it is.”

I pulled the jacket closed.

“Don’t ruin it.”

His mouth twitched.

⸻

While we waited, a car passed slowly.

Damien stepped closer to the wall, between me and the road.

I watched the headlights disappear.

“You don’t have to stand there.”

“Was planning to sit in your lap, but the injuries complicate things.”

My face heated.

He grinned.

I looked away before he could enjoy it more.

At school, girls leaned against his desk and laughed at things I rarely heard. Teachers watched him as though he was an unattended flame near curtains.

I had never understood the girls.

The teachers made considerably more sense.

“Why aren’t you at the party?” I asked.

“Was there a minimum sentence?”

“No. I wondered.”

“Nothing I wanted there.”

I looked down at my ruined dress.

That made two of us.

Then I felt him watching me.

“You really thought he’d be there?”

I knew who he meant.

“I hoped.”

“Bit much to put on a birthday.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“Getting it free.”

I turned toward him.

“Do you make fun of everyone who wants something you don’t?”

His grin disappeared.

For a moment, I thought I’d gone too far.

Then he folded his arms.

“You don’t know what I want.”

“No,” I said. “But you’ve been deciding plenty about me.”

He studied my face.

For the first time since he appeared above the bank, he had nothing ready.

I was embarrassingly pleased.

⸻

Headlights swept across us.

Dad pulled over, and Mum was out before he’d switched off the engine.

“Hannah.”

She cupped my face, checked my pupils, then crouched beside my foot.

“I told you I’m fine.”

“You also told me you were nearly home.”

Dad stood beside her, looking at my muddy clothes.

Then he looked at Damien.

“Were you riding with him?”

“No.”

“Had you been?”

“No, Dad. I was walking.”

Damien’s jaw tightened.

“The car pushed her off at the bend,” he said. “She fell down the bank.”

Dad glanced toward the motorcycle.

“Have you been drinking?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

Something changed in Damien’s expression.

“Usually remember pouring it.”

Mum looked up.

“Damien.”

He stepped back.

I watched him tuck his hands into his pockets, his face closing in a way that made him look suddenly less like the boy who’d been teasing me.

“He found me,” I said. “He climbed down and carried me out.”

Dad nodded.

“Thank you.”

Damien gave a brief shrug.

Mum examined my ankle again.

“Clinic first. We’ll have it checked before you put weight on it.”

Dad bent to lift me.

I hated needing carrying twice in one evening.

As he settled me into the passenger seat, I remembered the jacket.

“Wait.”

Damien approached when I held it out.

There was mud on one sleeve.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“It’ll survive.”

Our fingers brushed as he took it.

I looked up.

Under the streetlight, his eyes were brown. I’d never noticed that from two rows away.

He caught me looking.

“Disappointed?”

“What?”

“Not your mate. Terrible end to an already difficult night.”

I went still.

The brief warmth I’d felt toward him vanished.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m relieved.”

His smile held.

Only just.

“Goodnight, Ellis.”

I shut the door.

⸻

Mum climbed into the back seat while Dad started the car.

“That boy,” he muttered.

I watched Damien through the window.

He stood beside his motorcycle, pushing one arm into the jacket I’d borrowed.

“He helped me.”

“I thanked him.”

Dad pulled away.

At the bend, I looked back.

Damien hadn’t put on his helmet yet. He was watching our car.

Then the road turned, and he disappeared.

I faced forward, my ankle throbbing and his last remark still stinging.

The worst part was that I’d finally managed to hurt his feelings.

I wasn’t nearly as pleased about it as I’d expected.