Hate To Love You

I slept, but the dreams had been filled with kisses, heavy breathing, touching in places all over the body, and a general feeling of being aroused. The whole night.

I was exhausted, but I pulled myself out of bed.

Checking my phone, I knew that Shay would be on time, so I picked up my pace. Dressing, washing, the whole get-go seemed to take longer than normal for some reason. I pulled on jeans, sandals, and a baggy shirt. I didn’t need to proclaim any hotness level here.

I wasn’t trying to be attractive for Shay Coleman.

Still. I paused after I grabbed my keys, phone, and his bag. I reached for some lip-gloss because my lips looked chapped.

Looked. Didn’t feel it, but it never hurt to be proactive.

I was on the curb, his bag next to me, and waiting for five minutes before his black Jeep Wrangler pulled up. He parked in a slot behind me.

I picked up his bag and crossed over the sidewalk and smallest amount of grass. He turned the engine off but didn’t move to get out. I walked to his side and lifted his bag. He pulled the bag through his open window, but he nodded to his passenger side. “Want to get in for a second? I got your coffee.”

Surprised, I shrugged and went around.

No one would see. If they were walking home, they’d be hungover. No one would pay attention to one Jeep Wrangler in the parking lot.

I opened the door and climbed in.

Shay picked up my coffee, his own in his hand. “Here,” he murmured, his voice drowsy.

I shut the door. “Didn’t sleep?”

His head was resting against his seat, but he opened one eye and didn’t look too happy. “I had the biggest hard-on all night. The fucker wouldn’t go away, even after I did its business. Thanks for that.”

“Aw!” I smacked his arm. “No talking about it. That’s the first rule.”

He grumbled but said, “You’re all sorts of messed up. You know that, right?”

I shrugged. It wasn’t an insult if it was true. “I have reason. This makes my life easier.”

He shook his head, sipping some of his coffee. “You going to my game today?” That smirk came back, an extra layer of cockiness added to it. “I am the star quarterback, you know.”

Football. Good. I relaxed. We could talk about that. “I hate football.”

“Oh, my— Are you serious?” he burst out.

“What? I do.”

His eyes narrowed. “You never answered.” He continued to stare at me, long and hard, then his lips lifted again. “That means you’re going, doesn’t it?”

No answer from me.

He laughed, going back to sipping his coffee. “I’m starting to be able to read you.”

I wrinkled my nose. “That isn’t good.”

“Who are you going with?”

“This guy I made out with last night.”

“I’m playing.”

“Who said it was you?” I couldn’t help myself.

“You made out with someone before me last night?” He pretended to scowl, but his lip twitched in a half-grin. “And you broke the rule again.”

No talking about it. Fuck. I gave in, saying, “I’m going with my brother.”

“Yeah?” Interest sparked in his gaze. “What happened to your rule about being seen in public with a guy? Or does he not count because he’s your brother?”

I snorted. “No way. He’s included in that. He’s the main reason I have the rule. Do you know what girls are like when they find out I’m related to Blake or Gage Clarke?” A shiver went down my spine. “They’re either too nice or they’re not nice at all. All the girls Gage sleeps with and discards? Guess who they’re a bitch to?” I stopped a second shiver. “I’m going, but we’re sitting in the other team’s stands.”

He sighed. “I’m not even going to ask if you’re being serious. I know you are.”

“Completely.” I saw his bewilderment, which was mixed with a bit of frustration, and only shook my head. “Girls can be mean. You have no idea.”

“Yeah.” He raised his coffee. “Maybe I don’t. Guys aren’t that bad. There was bullying in high school, but that doesn’t really happen in college.” He amended, dipping his head low, “Unless they’re drunk and just assholes. Then it can get a whole different level of scary.” He squinted at me over the top of his coffee. “Something tells me you’d reduce them to sniveling cowards.”

I grinned. That made me feel better.

Spying a girl I knew from one of my other classes, I reached for the door. “Thank you for the coffee.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched me. This was when he would’ve thanked me for bringing his bag out, but he didn’t. I got out and glanced back to see him watching me intently. “Well.” I felt weird for some reason. “Good luck today.”

I walked away.

The coffee was good.

He had put in some cream and sugar.





I was pissing my pants.

Actually pissing as in full bladder leakage and the whole warm feeling you get at first, followed by embarrassment with shame, and then it’s just wet, sticky, and smelly. Okay, that might’ve been an exaggeration. I checked. My pants were fine, so no real pissing happened, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if some got out.

I was standing outside the concession stands. Gage was making me wait while he went into the bathroom, and not only were my roommate and her gang of two others ten feet away but also Becs and Aby from poli-sci were standing a few feet from them.

I was huddled behind a post and had a huge thing of popcorn and a big cup of soda clutched against my chest. I tried to raise them so if anyone came closer, I could shield my face.

“Clarke?”

I jumped. The air flooded with popcorn, and I didn’t have to imagine the feel of peeing my pants. I was experiencing it now, with soda. My face and shirt were drenched, and there was no warmth. There was coldness. I gritted my teeth. Too much coldness.

Casey was frowning at me. She was wearing a baggy Dulane University hoodie and tight jeans, and her auburn hair was pulled into two French braids. She was tugging on one, her head tilted to the side as she continued to assess me.

She pointed. “You spilled.”

I saw some napkins in her hand and grabbed them, using them to dab at myself. “No, shit, Sherlock.”

She only laughed. “What are you doing over here? You look like a creeping psycho.”

I almost smiled. “That’s the point. I want people to feel weird and look away.”

“You’re the only person I have ever met who wants to look like a creeping psycho.” Her hand dropped from her braid to her hip. She glanced around. “For real, what are you doing here?” Her eyes landed on the men’s restroom. The women’s was on the other side of the concession stands. “Ah. Let me guess. You’re waiting for . . .” She raked me over again, chewing the inside of her lip. “No. You’re not the type to wait for some secret hot boy. You’re waiting for your brother, right?”

“Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner, Vanna.”

“Ha!” But she was laughing until the color faded from her face, along with her smile. “Wait. Your brother knows about me, doesn’t he?”

I nodded, saying softly, “He’s the one who called me about it.” I tossed the last of the soda and juggled what was left of the popcorn to the side. I touched her arm, but when she jerked, I withdrew. “Sorry. I didn’t think.”