Hate To Love You

I shook my head and reached over to squeeze her hand. “I have trust issues, and I let them have too much power over me. I’m sorry. You’ve never done anything. It’s the opposite. I don’t feel good enough to be your friend.”


A sheen of tears rested on the underside of her eyelids. “No. No. Never. Why would you ever think that?”

I shrugged, pulling my hand back and tucking it on my lap. “Because some really bitchy and catty girls made me think that my senior year of high school.”

“They were jealous.”

Those words came out so strong. She was so sure of it. Hope rose in me, just a little bit, but I held it in check. Maybe. Maybe not. Those girls really did hate me. I had a hard time believing it was all because of jealousy.

She was waiting for me to respond, and I gave her a half-hearted grin. “Maybe.” My throat was swelling. Topic change, please. “Let’s talk about how we can get Sarah, Laura, and Casey to make up.”

That was what we did for the rest of our lunch, but when we left and I headed for my second class, I felt a heaviness on my shoulders. It settled there once she started talking about Casey, and it only intensified when we realized both of us thought we weren’t good enough for the other. I thought it would’ve lifted once the conversation switched, but it didn’t. It grew lighter, but it was still there.

Or maybe it was Carruthers, because as we walked out of the cafeteria, a bunch of guys began chanting, “Dick Crusher.” Some students were confused but others started laughing. I saw a few heated expressions and felt a similar experience as James from class.

I went a little faster.

If I heard comments like that, I’d have to engage, and I was suddenly so tired. I didn’t want to constantly battle every day, every hour, but the video made me a target.

I walked into my second class’s building, and more guys were heading out. They whipped around, recognizing me.

“Hey!” one shouted at me.

Veering through a group of short hallways, I took different turns until I lost them. Whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be congratulatory. I could sense it.

Once I was sure they left, I stopped around a corner and let out a shaky breath. I clutched my bag to my chest.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

There were ten minutes until my next class. I liked to get there early and go over the day’s notes. Sarah and Laura’s mental day excuse was sounding like a good idea.

I was still weighing the idea. To skip or not? To fight other assholes in my class, if they were in there or . . . I felt my phone in my pocket. I could go to Shay’s right now. Even if he wasn’t there, he’d probably let me hide in his room.

I snorted.

I used to hate the guy, and somehow he’d become my refuge.

No. I stepped back into the hall. No matter where I’d go, or how long I hid, they’d be there. I’d have to deal with them at some point.

I went to class.





Shay met me at the back door.

I texted him when I was walking up the driveway, and I’d taken one step onto the patio before the door opened. He stood there, wearing those same sweatpants that rode sinfully low on his hips. He had a shirt on, barring the view that I knew was there, and ran a hand through his hair. He gave me a crooked grin. “Have you had dinner yet?”

He moved back, and I stepped inside.

We were close, and he brushed against me, reaching around to close the door. I started to shake my head, but as he touched me, other sensations were already overriding the tightness in my stomach. That second class had been okay, but there were two assholes with smart comments. I sniped back, but I hadn’t shut them up. I only pushed off another verbal attack that would probably come Wednesday. And because I knew Shay would be able to pick up something was wrong, I lingered in my dorm room a couple hours before coming over. He had practice anyway.

“Kennedy?”

“What?” He asked me something. What was it? “Oh! Um. No.”

His hand touched my hip, and I almost closed my eyes. Right there, that small touch gave me some extra strength. When had this happened? Where I needed him outside the bedroom, too? It was an unnerving thought, and I shook it off like I did when things got to be too much.

“I could make you something in the kitchen.”

He was studying me as he made the suggestion, and seeing the small panic I felt at the thought of seeing his roommates, seeing Linde, he added, “Or we can order in.” That’d be better. I relaxed, and then he had one last suggestion. “Or we can study a while and head out for a bite as a study break.”

I tapped his chest, enjoying his firm muscles there. “That sounds like a winner.”

“The last?”

I nodded.

The close proximity, his hand on my waist, how he was gazing down at me—my ability to breathe was suffering. My finger was still touching his chest, and I flattened my palm there. A soft chuckle came from him, reverberating against my hand. “Or we can do something else before studying?”

A short laugh caught in my throat. We both knew where this was going. It was part of the reason I came over. I just didn’t think it’d be the first thing that happened, though it made sense. Get it out of the way so we could clear our heads and be productive afterward.

Neither of us wasted words.

Shay took my hand, led the way up to his room, and once that door was closed, we were on each other. He tugged me against him, his mouth on mine, and we stood like that, kissing. Slowly, he dragged his lips from me, but he pressed me back against the door. He lifted his head. “We’re not going to get much studying done.”

“Yes, we will.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him back down. “Just not right now.”

“We’re getting this out of the way.” He nipped my lips with his.

I nodded and gasped. “You read my mind.”

He groaned, opening his mouth even more over mine. His tongue swept in, exploring me, and there were no more words. I grabbed ahold of his neck and began to lift up. He bent, caught me under my legs, and lifted me the rest of the way. He held me, suspended in the air, and pressed me back against the door. We continued to kiss. I don’t think I’d ever get tired of his kisses.

His lips. His mouth. How he used his tongue.

I melted even more, and he shifted me closer against him, stepping back from the door. His hand left my leg for a second. The sound of a lock barely registered in the back of my head, and then we were on his bed.

My shirt came off first.

His shirt was next.

My bra.

I unsnapped his jeans.

Mine.

Then his hand moved between my legs, and he pushed a finger inside. I stopped kissing, just a moment, and arched my back. I bared my neck to him, and he groaned, his mouth falling there and tasting me.

A second finger moved in.

He paused. One second, then he began moving in and out. He was building up a rhythm. I could only hold on as he assaulted me there, and then my neck with his mouth, my chest, my breast, my other breast. He moved all the way down my stomach, still working his fingers, and I was riding them. I was clenching, my head thrown back on his bed, and I was trying not to scream.