Playing with Fire: A Bad Boy College Romance

It was everything I should’ve been doing during my college years and

“Listen to me carefully, Grace Shaw. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my entire life. When I look at you, I see a fighter. I see resilience and strength and defiance that no one can touch. You take my breath away, and no one—and nothing—will change that.”

Welcome to life. It’s a bitch and then you die.

“I’m grateful that Tuesday went down the way it did.” His voice was scratchy. Thick. “Because the worst day of your life gave me the best version of you.”

“Texas,” he said again.

“Maine?” I shook with anticipation.

“Permission to do something really fucking stupid, yet acutely necessary right now?”

My heart flip-flopped in my chest. I wasn’t even sure what he was asking, but I was darn sure what my answer would be.

“Granted.”

“Happy birthday to me.” His mouth descended on mine in the pitch black.

He was referring to our trade-off.

I tapped my lips, pretending to mull it over. “A genital guard.”

He laughed. “You’ve got jokes, Texas.”

“Circle the date.”

I ignored him, still glaring at the stage.

“When you’re letting me out of the doghouse,” he explained.

I pressed my lips together, resisting a faint smile, pouring metaphorical lava over the butterflies swirling in my stomach, taking flight upwards to my chest.

I brought the ring to my lips and mouthed a wish, like Grandmomma had taught me.

I didn’t wish for the insurance money to kick in quickly, or to end world poverty.

I asked for my beauty back.

I’ll walk through fire for you.

Love you.

—Your old flame.

I can’t unfeel, unlaugh, undo everything that went down between us.” He shook his head. “I can’t unlove you, Grace Shaw. You’re inked in my fucking DNA, to a point I’ve completely lost my ability to think straight.