The Boy I Hate

“Are you okay?” Renee asked, “You’re worrying me.”

Samantha nodded, plucking a tissue from the box and wiping her nose before sitting back against the headboard. “I’m fine. I must be close to my period or something.”

Renee searched her face for another second, as though trying to figure out what this all was about. “Do you still want to watch the movie?”

Samantha looked into her best friend’s eyes and nodded, maybe a bit too vigorously. She sank down deep into the pillows. “I want that very much.”

Renee un-paused the movie, nestling deep under the covers next to Samantha—but it felt different. There was a secret between them for the first time, one Samantha would never share. There was no reason to anymore. That night on the lake with Tristan, that kiss, was just one mistake, one stupid and vulnerable moment that had the potential to hurt forever. It would never happen again, of that she would make sure of.





10





Chapter Ten





Present day



It only took two minutes to get out of the car and find Tristan in the back of the restaurant. He was unmistakable, already swarmed by female servers leaning against the booths beside him. Without saying a word, Samantha slid into the bench across from him and remained quiet. She waited there a moment, until all eyes were focused on her, then leaned across the table and whispered, “You’re wrong, my boyfriend trusts me. That’s why he doesn’t care I’m with you.”

Two servers raised their brows, as if making the assumption she intended, then took the carafe of coffee and headed for the back room.

Tristan only shrugged, as though slightly amused by her response. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, grinning.

“That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

He laughed, not in a humorous way, but in a way that was cocky and irritating. “I’m glad he trusts you, Samantha, that’s great. But he’s a fool.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t trust me?”

“Not as far as I could throw you.”

“Why?” She’d never had anyone say that before, so blatantly and matter-of-factly. She would have screamed had no one else been around to hear.

He opened the menu, dismissing her, then changed his mind and looked up again. “You’re only one bad decision away from climbing into my bed. You, and everyone else.”

She choked. “You’re full of yourself.”

“I’m honest.”

She grabbed his glass of water and downed it by half, even though what she really wanted to do was throw it in his face. “Maybe that’s what you’re used to,” she said, around large gulps of water. “But that’s not me.”

He leaned back in his seat and smiled. The one that wrinkled his eyes at the corners, and made her stomach twist with nervousness. “It only takes one moment, Samantha. One twinge of doubt. One single disagreement for someone to cheat.” He leaned forward again, bracing his forearms on the table. “He shouldn’t trust you. You, or anyone. That’s what I’m saying. It’s nothing personal.”

She leaned in, not intimidated. “You say my boyfriend shouldn’t trust me, yet in the same breath say it’s nothing personal? Who does that? Who says things like that, expecting someone to not take offense? It is personal Tristan. Very personal, and I take great offense to it.”

He leaned back in his seat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

But he didn’t look sincere. Not sincere in the slightest, and she began to shake her head. She picked up the menu to cover her face, needing to get away from him in any way she could. Her blood was heating throughout her entire body. She was so angry she couldn’t see straight—and that was something she didn’t want him to see. For him to know how much his words had affected her.

This conversation was completely ironic, too. Because not so long ago, this man had taken her first kiss. Not only taken it, but ripped it out from under her like a magic trick. Then not even twenty-four hours later was shoving another girl in her face. Yes, he had made no promises, no verbal commitment that anything would come from it, but no words were needed after a kiss like that. No promise could replace what their bodies had told her.

“I feel bad for you,” she said quietly, unable to resist.

“Why?” he answered, amused.

“Because you have no faith.”

“It makes things easier.”

“How so?” She lowered her menu, having expected him to disagree. But he didn’t. He answered in such a nonchalant way that she needed to see him.

He was leaning back in his seat, his arms braced on either side booth. “Because—when you don’t care, they can’t hurt you.” He set his napkin on the table, then stood and looked down to the hall. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a phone call.”

She watched him walk away, unable to form a response because bile had begun to climb up her throat. The way he said the words was so heartbreaking. As if he knew all too well what hurt felt like. As if he’d experienced it more than once.

He pulled open the back door, took his cell from his back pocket, and began talking. He was still in her line of vision, and she couldn’t look away. His expression became angry and intense as he walked around the corner, and then she couldn’t see him any longer.

She remembered what Renee said about him having a hard couple of years, and for the first time, she wondered what happened. What could have been so terrible to cause such a jaded view on life? Wondered if the person he was talking to now was the cause of it?

The server came back at that moment, pulling Samantha’s attention as she set two plates on the table. Both the same order. A cheese burger and french fries.

“What’s this?” Samantha asked, without looking up.

“A burger,” the woman replied. “Is that not what you wanted? He said—”

“He ordered me food?” She looked up, slightly out of breath from shock.

“Yes,” the server answered, confused.

“Why?” Samantha searched the server’s stressed face, then took pity on her and shook her head. “You know what—” She placed her napkin on her lap and decided not to over think it. “It doesn’t matter. Thank you, it looks delicious.”

The woman nodded, still flustered, then turned to the nearby table and began clearing it.

Samantha had barely touched her fries when Tristan came back inside and immediately started eating. She glanced up at him, a weird feeling tightening in the bottom of her stomach. “Why did you order me food?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

His eyes met hers, bright blue but distant. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “How did you know I’d come inside?”

He lifted his burger to his mouth and took a bite. “Because,” he began, “I could tell you were hungry.”

She tilted her head to the side, clearly confused.

“Either that or—” But he shook his head, as though deciding not to answer.

“What?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“No. You can’t do that. You can’t just say something like that and not finish.”

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