“What are you doing?” I tried to appear aggravated.
“One more step, and you’re losing one of your keys. Not sure if it’s the car key, but eventually I’ll get to that one.” She cocked her arm behind her head, and I halted.
Fuuuuuck.
“I’m not getting in your car.” Her voice was even and strong. “And I’m not letting you leave. We’re not moving from this spot until you’ve told me the truth.”
The air around me got dense, and I felt like I was in a cave. Walls everywhere.
I couldn’t tell her everything.
I could apologize. I could try to explain.
But I couldn’t tell—
Shit! She raised her arm farther, loading it to toss the first key, and my hand shot out, motioning for her to stop.
A replacement key would be at least two hundred dollars.
My heart beat faster, echoing in my ears.
“Tate, don’t do this.”
“Not the answer I was looking for,” she shot back and flung a key into the woods off the side of the road. I watched, completely helpless, as it disappeared into the thick darkness.
“Dammit, Tate!”
She released another key from the ring and loaded it behind her back, too. “Now, talk. Why do you hate me?”
Jesus. The key was gone. Maybe the one to my car. Maybe just the house key. And fuck me if it was the one to the school.
I shook my head and almost laughed. “Hate you? I never hated you.”
Her eyes narrowed in confusion, and her voice dropped. “Then why? Why did you do all the things you’ve done?”
Why was I so mean? Why did I isolate you? Why did I ruin our friendship? Which horrible fucking shit did she want explained first?
“Freshman year.” I took a deep breath and started. “I overheard Danny Stewart saying he was going to ask you to the Halloween dance. I made sure he never did, because he also told his buddies that he couldn’t wait to find out if your tits were more than a handful each.”
I also gave him a bloody nose that day. He still doesn’t know why.
“I didn’t even think twice about my actions,” I continued as she remained silent. “I spread that rumor about Stevie Stoddard, because you didn’t belong with Danny. He was a dick. They all were.”
“So you thought you were protecting me?” she blurted out, unconvinced. “But why would you do that? You already hated me by that point. That was after you’d returned from your dad’s for the summer.”
“I wasn’t protecting you,” I stated, raising my eyes to meet hers. “I was jealous.”
If I was protecting her, then I wouldn’t have turned around and hurt her myself with that rumor. It wasn’t about keeping her safe. It was about not wanting anyone else to touch her.
I continued, “We got to high school, and all of a sudden, you’ve got all of these guys liking you. I handled it the only way I knew how.”
“By bullying me?” she challenged. “That makes no sense. Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“I couldn’t. I can’t.” I couldn’t trust you.
“You’re doing fine so far,” she pressed. “I want to know why all of this started in the first place. Why did you want to hurt me? The pranks, the black-listing from parties? That wasn’t about other guys. What was your problem with me?”
I inhaled deeply, trying to buy myself some time. I couldn’t go there. Not now. Not with her.
I blew out a breath and lied. “Because you were there. Because I couldn’t hurt who I wanted to hurt, so I hurt you.”
Please just leave it at that.
“I was your best friend.” She spoke slowly, making me feel her disgust. “All these years…” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
“Tate, I had a shitty summer with my dad that year.” I inched closer. “When I came back, I wasn’t the same kid. Not even close. I wanted to hate everybody. But with you, I still needed you in a way. I needed you to not forget me.”
Part of it was about control, and part of it was about my anger, but most of it was about not being able to let her go. I needed to be in her life. I needed her to see me.
“Jared, I’ve turned it over and over in my head wondering what I could’ve done to make you act the way you did. And now you tell me that it was all for no reason?”
I continued moving in.
“You were never clingy or a nuisance, Tate. The day you moved in next door I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” My voice dropped to a near-whisper and my eyes to the ground. “I fucking loved you. Your dad was unloading the moving truck, and I looked out my living room window to see what the noise was. There you were, riding your bike in the street. You were wearing overalls with a red baseball cap. Your hair was spilling down your back.”
Even then, I knew Tate would be important to me.
Shortly after she’d moved in, I’d found out that her mom had passed away. My father wasn’t in my life, and Tate and I connected instantly. We had things like music and movies in common.
And the rest was out of our control. We’d found each other.
“When you recited your monologue this week, I …..” I let out a breath. “I knew then that I’d really gotten to you, and instead of feeling any satisfaction, I was angry with myself. I wanted to hate you all these years, I wanted to hate someone. But I didn’t want to hurt you, and I didn’t really realize that until the monologue.”
Stepping in front of her, I felt the hairs on my arms stand on end. The heat from her body—so close—radiated toward me, and it took everything I had not to circle my arms around her waist and bring her up into my arms. The memory of how she felt the other night only made me think of all the things I wanted.
“You’re not telling me everything.” She looked like her head was spinning, like she was half in and half out of the moment.
I reached up and cupped her face with one hand, wiping away a single warm tear.
“No, I’m not.” My voice was barely audible.
Her eyes were hooded, but she tried to keep going. “The scars on your back,” she started. “You said you had a bad summer, and that when you came back you wanted to hate everybody, but you haven’t treated anyone else as badly as—”
“Tate?” I cut her off and closed the inch left between us, our breathing in sync as we met chest to chest. All I could see were her lips, full and soft. “I don’t want to talk any more tonight.”
She stood there, watching me close in, and the moment was a hair from coming together or coming apart.
She wanted my lips on hers, but she might not like that she wanted it.
Please don’t stop me.
Her skin was like touching cool silk, smooth like butter, and I fisted my hand in her hair.
And then she jerked, as if waking up.
“You don’t want to talk anymore?” Her strong voice broke the spell, and my legs tensed, waiting for her to hit me again.
“Well, I do,” she yelled, and I sprang into action when I saw her twist around to launch another key into the forest.
Hell!
Circling my arms around her body, I pulled her, struggling, into my chest.
Dammit! I’d explained! I knew she wouldn’t forgive me right away, but why was she still so upset? What more did she want?
You don’t apologize. You don’t beg!
My father’s mantra. Repeated over and over again that summer.
I hated almost everything he’d taught me, but that was one lesson I’d committed to practice. Apologizing was a sign of weakness.
But I wanted Tate back.
My heart only beat for her, and I’d rather spend my life hating, loving, fucking, and breathing her than losing her.
You need to apologize, dickhead.
“Shhh, Tate,” I whispered into her ear. “I won’t hurt you. I’ll never hurt you again. I’m sorry,” I said, closing my eyes as I swallowed the bitter pill.
She twisted from side to side. “I don’t care about you being sorry! I hate you!”
No.
Still securing her with both arms, I used my hands to peel open her fingers and pry out my keys.
I let her go, and she stepped forward and spun around to face me.
“You don’t hate me,” I challenged with a grin before she had the chance to speak. “If you did, you wouldn’t be this upset.”
“Go screw yourself,” she spat back and turned, stomping away.
Um, where did she think she was going?
If she thought I was going to let her traipse home, in the dark, on a deserted road, she was out of her fucking mind.
Digging my feet into the ground, I took off after her, spun her around and threw her over my shoulder like I wanted to do earlier. She landed hard, her stomach caving to my shoulder, and I had a huge desire to keep her there and walk home.
Fuck the car.
Well, almost.
“Put me down!” She kicked her feet and punched my back, and I tightened my hold, willing my fingers to stay put.