When my mom told me the Carters were coming over for dinner, my first instinct was to barricade myself in my room and wait out the storm. Nothing good ever came from family dinners with them. Nothing.
But my mom had that tone,the one that said, Don't even think about it, Madison Grace, so there I was, trudging downstairs in sweatpants, an old hoodie, and socks that didn't match. I'd planned to stay silent, eat quickly, and retreat as soon as I could.
That plan lasted about five seconds.
Because, of course, Ben Carter was the first thing I saw when I walked into the living room.
"Nice outfit," he said, smirking as he leaned against the arm of the couch. "What's the occasion? A hobo convention?"
I glared at him, tugging my hoodie lower. "Wow, Ben. That's original. Did you come up with it while speeding down the highway at 90 miles per hour?"
His smirk only grew. "Jealous of my bike again, Maddie?"
"Jealous of your bike? Oh, yeah. Totally. I'd love to own a death machine that's barely holding itself together."
"Still safer than riding in your mom's minivan."
Before I could snap back, our parents appeared, all smiles and laughter, oblivious to the war waging in their midst. "Maddie, honey, come help me set the table," my mom said, waving me into the dining room.
Ben trailed behind, making himself at home as if he wasn't the reason my blood pressure was already spiking.
Dinner started off okay. The parents chatted about work and neighborhood gossip while I shoveled mashed potatoes onto my plate, keeping my head down. I could feel Ben's presence across the table, like an annoying mosquito buzzing just out of reach.
It was when his mom mentioned his motorcycle that I couldn't help myself.
"Ben's been so responsible with his bike lately," Mrs. Carter said, beaming like her son was an angel instead of a disaster on two wheels. "I know I worry, but he's so careful now."
I snorted before I could stop myself.
Every head turned toward me.
"Something funny, Maddie?" Ben asked, raising an eyebrow.
I smiled sweetly. "Oh, nothing. Just wondering if speeding counts as 'responsible.'"
"What?" his mom asked, her smile faltering.
"Well," I said, setting my fork down with deliberate precision, "I saw him flying down Main Street last week. Definitely over the speed limit. I'd be careful if I were you,those tickets add up."
Ben shot me a look that could have melted steel. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, really? Because I saw you." I leaned back, crossing my arms. "And I'm pretty sure half the neighborhood did too."
"You're exaggerating," he growled, his jaw tightening.
"I don't think I am."
Our parents looked between us, their cheerful dinner conversation now thoroughly derailed.
"Ben," his dad said slowly, his voice edged with disappointment. "Is that true?"
"It's not,she's making it sound worse than it was," Ben stammered, glaring at me like he wanted me to spontaneously combust.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Was I supposed to lie to your parents? My bad."
"You're impossible," he muttered under his breath.
"And you're reckless," I shot back, louder than necessary.
"That's enough," my mom said sharply, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Maddie, apologize. Now."
I opened my mouth to argue, but the look on her face made me think better of it. "Fine. Sorry," I mumbled, glaring at my plate.
"Ben?" his dad prompted.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Sorry for... whatever."
The rest of dinner passed in awkward silence, with our parents trying to salvage the evening while Ben and I avoided each other's gaze.
As soon as I was excused, I bolted upstairs, slamming my door behind me. I threw myself onto my bed and grabbed my phone, scrolling mindlessly through Webtoon titles in an attempt to forget the disaster downstairs.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the image of Ben's furious face or the infuriating fact that, even angry, he still managed to look annoyingly good.