Hate To Love You

“Stop. I don’t want to hear that.”

“He was putting on a front. I’m trying to say that he’s cool. He’s a cool guy.”

“I know.” I frowned. He was being weird. This conversation was weird. “Are you trying to say something without saying it?”

“No. I—” He rolled his eyes. “I’m impressed, I guess.” His lip lifted up again. “You kinda have a type. You date older guys. You date up.”

Parker was a year younger than Blake, so he was three years older than I was.

I flushed. “Let’s not talk about him. Please.” Remembering my last conversation with Shay, I said, “And I’m not technically dating Shay.” I didn’t think.

“What?”

“It was never official between us.”

He snorted. “It’s official now. No guy would beat the shit out of another guy and try again even when cops were in the room for a side chick. He cares, Kenz.”

That lump was back, but it was resting on top of my throat. “It was me, Gage. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

I could feel him glancing at me, but I kept staring straight ahead. Tears blurred my vision, so I looked down to my lap. “He told me he liked me the last time I saw him, and I told him he was moving too fast.”

“Are you serious?”

“I went to him after Casey reported her rape. I didn’t think. It just felt right to go there. I got scared afterwards.”

He turned down Shay’s street. “You might want to stop bullshitting yourself.”

“Yeah.”

He parked in the driveway, and I took my cell. I’d barely used it once I got it back.

When I checked earlier that day, the voice mail was full. Hundred plus text messages. It became too overwhelming. Everyone wanted to know what happened. There were just as many people wishing me well. There were a few who said the opposite. I saw the first one and handed the phone over to Gage. There was nothing on there I was embarrassed about, and he went through the messages one by one. The ones who wished me harm were turned over to the cops. The well-wishers got a reply back saying it was Gage texting on my behalf, and a polite and general thank you greeting. Once they thought Gage was in charge of my phone, those texts stopped coming. Word must’ve gotten out they couldn’t get in touch with me that way.

Still, I made sure to send a few personal texts to Missy and Kristina. They wanted to make sure I was okay. I was, or I was better. I asked Kristina about Casey, who replied that she was doing better. Linde texted, too, and I thanked him, as well. But the person whose texts I read over and over again, yet still hadn’t replied to, were Shay’s.

I don’t know why I couldn’t reply.

I read over them again, from the first that he sent me that night.





12:38 am


Coleman: Heard something. Call me!





12:48 am


Coleman: For real. I’m hearing more, and I’m going nuts. If it isn’t true, I need to know or I’m going to do something.





2:48 am


Coleman: Gage said you’re in the hospital. So am I. I lost it, but I’d do it again. Text me when you can.





4:18 am


Coleman: Did something again. Thinking of you.





4:38 am


Coleman: I tried to see you, but got kicked out of the hospital. I can’t come in. Your mom’s interesting. I like your brothers. Good guys.





9:15 am


Coleman: Just left a meeting with coaches and some detectives. Lawyers, too. I’m not going to be charged, thank the fuck, right? Okay. You’re getting a pile of texts from me. Gage said you’re not doing calls or messages. Call when you can, if you want to.





11:17 pm


Coleman: I blew your cover. Word’s out. You’re going to be pissed, but I don’t even care. I told people you’re my girlfriend. It shut most of the rumors up, but figured I should text and let you know. I’m sure your brothers told you already. So. Yeah. Get pissed and call me, if you want. I’ll take the yelling. I’ll enjoy it, even.





4:23 pm


Coleman: Gage called. I told him, but texting you again. Yes. You can come to me any time, any day, any minute. I’m here. Or I’ll come to you.

It was a little under forty-eight hours later, and I texted him for the first time.

Me: We’re outside.

His reply was immediate.

Coleman: I’m here.

I looked up. He was gazing back at me from the driveway.

A sudden wave of nerves rose inside me. I’d avoided looking in the mirror so far, but I needed to see the damage. Taking a deep breath, I flipped down the visor. My mom wasn’t joking about the moldy pickle. The entire right side of my face was swollen with a Monet of black, blue, green, and yellow bruises. I had a fat lip.

I was a mess. There wasn’t another way to say it, and I was going to see Shay like this?

“I’m hideous.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” I grabbed the hooded sweatshirt in the back of his car and pulled it on. Sunglasses were on his dashboard, and I took those, too.

“Hey!”

I got out, yanked the hood up and over my face, and put the glasses on. “I’ll call you later to pick me up?”

“That, or he can drop you off.”

“Got it.”

I hunched forward, my hands in the sweatshirt’s pockets, and I didn’t look at Shay as I went right past him. He turned to follow. “Hello?”

“Can we do this upstairs?” I was reaching for the door, and I opened it as Shay got behind me. We weren’t the only ones at the intersection. Linde was in the stairway, leaving the main floor. He was pulling the door closed behind him and automatically issued a, “Oh, excuse me . . .” The word died in his throat when he looked from me, to Shay, then back, and his eyes narrowed, lingering on me.

A soft, “Clarke?” came from him. He had a bowl of oatmeal in his hands, and it almost dropped. He tightened his hold quick, cleared his throat, and stepped all the way into the stairs. The door shut with a click behind him. He looked from me to Shay again. “Uh . . .” He blinked a few times before coughing once again. “I . . . sorry. I’m at a loss. That is you, Clarke, right?”

“Yeah.” My throat got stomped on. The husky sound that came out hadn’t bothered me until that moment. I cringed. “Can we not, uh, do this here?”

Linde moved aside, and I hurried up the stairs.

Turning down the hallway, both were following me, but I didn’t want to do this with Linde. Not right then. I wanted to talk to Shay and then regroup. I’d feel more centered if that was done and out of the way first.

Stopping outside Shay’s room, I said over my shoulder, “Can I talk to Shay first? I . . . can we do this another day, Linde? I’m sorry. I . . . just—”

“No. No.” He went to a different door. “Talk. It’s good to see you up and walking.” He cracked a grin, tapping the side of his head. “The mind does weird tricks on a person. You never know.” He indicated me with the bowl. “It’s real good to see you. Miss you in class.”

I was reaching for the doorknob but paused at those words.

I looked back up. “Thank yo—” He was in his room already.