Hate You, Henley: An Enemies To Lovers Sports Romance (Brooks University Book 3)

by Hannah Gray

  My stomach lurches, and I vomit onto the sidewalk. Weston holds my hair back, rubbing small circles on my back.

  “You’re all right. This will pass,” he murmurs into the darkness.

  His voice holds no anger. Or irritation. He simply sounds … depleted.

  Tears stream down my face as my stomach continues to heave. I feel like death warmed over. But this shitty feeling is so much better than the reality I’ll face tomorrow morning. I’ll be humiliated, and Weston will be there to judge me.

  “Why do you do this to yourself, Henley?” Weston sounds frustrated now. “I don’t understand. Please, make me understand.”

  Finally, my body decides to give me a break, and I stand, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the front of my shirt.

  Weston reaches into his truck before giving me a napkin and a bottle of water. I take them gratefully and wipe my mouth before gurgling some water.

  Spitting the water onto the pavement, I take another drink. The coolness feels soothing against my angry throat, and suddenly, I don’t feel nearly as wasted as I did before throwing up every ounce that was in my stomach. I guess a good dose of puking can be quite sobering.

  Fishing in his pocket, he hands me a stick of gum. “So, are you going to talk or what?”

  Popping the gum between my lips, I’m thankful for a new flavor in my mouth that isn’t puke or alcohol.

  “There’re just some things that you don’t need the answers to, Wade,” I say collectedly. “This is one of them.”

  “Fuck that,” he growls before stepping toward me, backing me up against his truck.

  Only I don’t feel scared. I know he would never hurt me. In fact, my body craves for him to get even closer even though my mind knows it’s wrong.

  As he dips his head down, his eyes burn into mine like two pieces of coal. “I want some fucking answers. I’m over this shit. You should be too.”

  He smells so good. And I so badly wish I could melt into him. But if I let myself, I’d be in a damn puddle at his feet.

  Having him this close, his body near mine and his scent intoxicating my brain, makes me numb, and I’m suddenly brought back to the day he left for football camp. The last good memory that I have of us. When we were us.

  We sat in our white lawn chairs, looking out at the lake we’d all grown up on. Dane, Weston, and me. We’d learned to swim here, spent endless hours getting pulled on a tube behind a boat our fathers drove way too fast, caught countless fish and frogs, and swum until our skin was pruney. We reeked of sunscreen, and our outfits in the summer consisted of a swimsuit for me and swim trunks for the boys. It was the life.

  “I’m going to miss you, Hen,” he said slowly, playfully nudging his elbow against my ribs. “Even if you’re the biggest pain in my ass ever.”

  “Am not,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “You are … but I’m still going to miss you.”

  We always had this weird friendship where we secretly knew one day, we’d be together. At least … that was what I thought. He probably never did. After all, he could have any girl he wanted. They all loved him and his twin brother. Handsome football stars and came from a good family, those Wade boys were a catch. But my eyes were only for Weston. Dane was only a friend.

  “You’d better.” I turned toward him and tried to hide my sadness.

  I would miss him. We had never spent a summer apart. The realization was hitting me of how truly bad it would suck without him around for eleven whole weeks.

  We were going to be seniors in high school in the fall. I knew I needed to tell him sooner rather than later how I really felt. I needed to tell him I loved him, more than just a friend.

  He was basically air to me. Corny as it sounded. I needed him as much. He made me feel alive. He made me feel … myself.

  Leaning over the edge of his chair, he picked something up from the grass. I knew what it was without even looking. It was our thing.

  Handing me a dead dandelion, he grinned. “Go ahead. Make your wish. Anything you want.”

  “Anything at all?” I smiled, tilting my head.

  “Anything,” he said, his voice deep and sexy.

  He was always doing that. Always picking dandelions for me to make a wish on. On the first day we had gone to kindergarten and I’d wanted my mom, during recess, he’d picked up that same type of ugly flower and willed me to make a wish. As I had gotten older, my wishes had changed to everything and anything that involved him.

  But from the time I’d hit age twelve, all I’d wanted was for him to be mine. Even at that naive young age, I knew I was in love with Weston Wade.

  But then he was leaving for the summer. Headed off to some fancy football camp halfway across the country, leaving me alone. Well … with Dane. We’d hang out, do fun stuff to pass the time. But I knew I would miss Weston. I would miss him so freaking much.

  One thing I hadn’t seen coming was that one event that happened right before he came home. It turned my whole world upside down. Ripping it to shambles and making me bitter toward Weston for leaving in the first place. And making things with Dane and me complicated.

  I’d put myself between two brothers who were so close that they basically shared a mind. And I’d ruined two friendships and a brotherhood, all at the same time.

  And I’d never forgive myself for it.

  Snapping back to reality, I attempt to shove him backward, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he grips my wrists.

  “Cut the crap, Henley. The game was brutal, and frankly, I’m too tired for your shit tonight.”

  I pretend to cry. “Poor Westy. Football life is too rough, huh?” I step closer to him. My eyes grow tired, but I push through. “If you can’t handle college football, then I suggest you. Go. Home.”

  “No,” he says through gritted teeth, tightening his hold.

  “You shouldn’t have followed me to Brooks to begin with. Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t want to be followed?” I say cruelly. “That maybe I didn’t want you around?”

  “Trust me, I didn’t want to follow you here. I’d rather be anywhere else than near your ungrateful ass. But remember those people you call your parents?” His eyes narrow to slits. “They worry about your dumbass every second of every fucking day. And unlike you, I care about them. So, if they need me to be your babysitter … so fucking be it, babe. I’ll stick it out and take the worst fucking job on the planet.”

  He might think he can handle me like a toddler. Hell, that’s probably even what I deserve. But if I’m being honest, I like being around him again. And I want to see just how far I can push Weston’s limits.

  Weston

  Apparently, puking up everything in her stomach was sobering because, now, she can actually keep her beautiful eyes open when I talk to her. They aren’t crystal clear but better than the dazed look they usually are when she’s drunk.

  God, that look pisses me off.

  She smirks, and it’s clear she’s up to something. I just don’t know what yet. And with Henley, I wouldn’t even dare to guess.

  She tilts her pretty head to the side and leers. “Bet you won’t dare to kiss me, Weston.”

  Taunting me—that’s what she’s doing. She knows it too.

  My eyes stay focused on her as I release her wrists. I can’t give in. She’s the poison I’m not ready to die over. Even if it might taste damn good, going down.

  Being her babysitter, well, that’s as far as I can take it. Mentally, I can’t give her anything more. It’s not like she’d want it anyway.

  She bites her bottom lip. “Bet you won’t dare to push me up against this truck and show me what all the hype is about.”

  My breath hitches when she reaches out and runs her hand under my shirt, touching my bare skin. Something I’ve craved so fucking badly. Still, I hold tough.

  Narrowing my eyes, I lean my head toward her. And put one hand on my truck next to her head. Her eyes flutter shut in anticipation.

  And when I stop my fa
ce only an inch from hers, I smirk and keep my voice low. “Baby … you couldn’t handle the hype.”

  Her eyes snap open, and I don’t miss her nipples hardening underneath her shirt, sending a jolt right down to my dick. “Oh, I could handle it. In fact, I’d likely be bored,” she says, pretending to yawn.

  “Oh, Henley. Bitchy, fucked up Henley. I’d have you screaming so loud that even your boyfriend would hear it all the way in Florida.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she says coolly.

  Cocking my head to the side, I tsk her. “I don’t give a fuck if you do or not.” I lean in closer, and her scent hits me. She smells like Malibu Rum and the same strawberry shampoo she’s always used. It makes it harder to be a dick to her, but I push through. “But for the record, you two deserve each other.”

  “And you deserve all of the brain-dead Barbies who chase you. The ones who tell you how great you are just to have the privilege of being a warm hole for your two-inch dick to visit,” she says, completely unaffected.

  “Hey”—I shrug—“if they are willing to jump on my dick, why do I care what’s going on inside their brain?” Smirking at her, I wink. “Besides, those Barbies give the best head.”

  “Lucky them,” she answers, finally seeming annoyed.

  Good. I’m glad I got under her skin.

  “Could have been you … if only you weren’t such a miserable bitch.” I scratch my chin. “Come to think of it. A few times of making you scream out my name might fuck the attitude right out of you.” I run my tongue over my lips. “Worth a try, isn’t it?”

  Her face stays stoic. “I’d have more fun with a pencil,” she says and tries to sidestep me, but I’m too fast, and I reach out and grip her hips, pushing her back against my truck. Hard.

  “We both know if I wanted you, I could fuck you right here. Right now,” I say against her ear. Feeling her chest rise and fall against me. And a visible shiver runs down her body.

  That’s right. You do want me.

  After getting her turned on, I step back and open the truck door. “But unlucky for you, I’m not fucking you. Not tonight anyway. Get in.”

  If looks could kill, I’d drop dead right now.

  “Why should I?”

  “Because that Claire chick is pissed. You can’t go back there tonight.”

  She thinks about it for a moment before finally nodding. “All right. Just this once,” she says and climbs in the truck. Looking like she could fall asleep at any moment.

  Loving her is draining. And it’s no doubt wearing on me. Each stunt like this that she pulls sucks a little more life out of me. But I know that somewhere inside of her … buried really deep, is the girl I grew up with. My girl. Now, all I need to do is help her see it. She’s already taking the first step to get there. Swimming. But I still have a lot of work to do.

  A few minutes later, we’re in front of my dorm, and I’m opening her door to lift her out. She snores softly. Her cheeks are streaked with mascara, and her hair is an absolute disaster. Still, she’s beautiful.

  I thank my lucky stars when both Knox and Cole are nowhere to be seen.

  While still holding her in my arms, I push the door open to my room and walk over to my bed. I slowly set her down, and she rolls onto her stomach, just like she always has when she sleeps.

  I should change her clothes. They reek of weed, cigarettes, and liquor. But that might make her feel awkward in the morning. And might make me look like a fucking predator. So, I decide against it.

  Collapsing next to her, I pull my phone out and find a string of messages from her mother, Allison.

  Mama Hayes: I’m worried. I have messaged Henley numerous times tonight. No reply. I hate to ask you to check on her. I know you’re busy. But … I’m contemplating coming out there.

  Mama Hayes: Dane said he texted with her earlier. But it’s been hours. A lot could have happened in that time frame.

  A growl dies in my throat. Motherfucking Dane. They still talk. I was hoping they didn’t. I guess I’m not so lucky.

  Mama Hayes: Oh my. I’m so rude. Congrats on your win tonight! I’m sorry I bothered you with my concerns. I feel like a jerk.

  Me: Already on it. I have her tucked in safely for the night.

  I’m not lying to her. She is tucked in for the night. I’m just going to leave out that she’s tucked in directly next to me.

  Mama Hayes: Weston, you do too much. I could never explain how grateful we are for everything you do for our girl. Thank you. One day, she’ll appreciate it too.

  Me: No big deal. She’ll come out of it. Someday.

  Mama Hayes: I hope so.

  Mama Hayes: How bad was she tonight?

  Me: Not great. Hoping I can get her to talk to me tomorrow. I think this has gone on long enough. I’m done with giving her space.

  Mama Hayes: Just don’t push her so hard that she runs or does something rash. Her behavior has been very erratic lately.

  Me: It has been. But I think she needs tough love. Talk tomorrow. Good night. Go to sleep, Mama Hayes. She’s safe.

  After I send my message, my eyes grow incredibly heavy. All of the emotional baggage Henley brought with her to Brooks is draining. I can’t watch her destroy herself much longer. And I know if she continues to go this route, she’ll take me right down with her. I can’t do that. I have dreams of my own I need to follow.

  The thing is though, Henley Hayes has always been far more important to me than any dream I have. Or will ever have. Things between us don’t need to be easy. I just need her to let me in.

  In her slumber, she scootches closer to me and nuzzles into my side. And for a few hours … we don’t have to pretend to hate each other.

  twelve

  Henley

  The stabbing headache hits me before I even open my eyes. “Jesus,” I mutter and wipe my hand over my face.

  When I peel my eyes open, I look around and only remember bits and pieces of last night.

  I turn over to see Weston asleep next to me. He has always been the stillest sleeper. Nothing on his body moves when he sleeps. He basically looks dead.

  Small memories of last night pop up. Us fighting on a sidewalk. Me telling him to push me up against his truck and kiss me. Cringe.

  And now, I’m here.

  Why am I here?

  As quietly as I can, I slide out of bed and toe my shoes on. Weston’s alarm clock reads seven a.m., so hopefully, none of his roommates have woken up yet.

  Pushing the door open slightly, I look back at him once more. His beautiful face with that scruff I find so sexy. His full lips and thick lashes. He’s gorgeous. That makes him even harder to hate. But it’s not just the outside that makes him irresistible. Inside … he’s good. He just didn’t like me the way I did him. But that doesn’t make him a bad person. It certainly didn’t make it okay for me to climb into bed with his brother when I was his best friend.

  I imagine curling back up next to him and letting him hold me until all the pain inside of my body melts away from his touch. Before I change my mind and do something stupid … I leave. Because it’s the right thing to do. Weston saved me last night from looking stupid. Well, from looking any more stupid. But he didn’t want me here. I’m sure of it. He was being the good guy. He’s always being the good guy.

  And as I start the walk back to my house, I remember … I have to see him tomorrow at the fundraiser.

  Crap.

  As I approach the sorority house, more memories come back. And I remember that Claire wanted me out. I get it. I’m a damn liability. But it would break my mom’s heart if I got kicked out. Not to mention, embarrass her. I will fight to stay.

  When I walk inside, it’s eerily quiet. And for a moment, I think I’m in the clear. Until a small voice comes from the kitchen.

  “Henley?”

  I look up at the ceiling and blow out a breath, preparing myself for the worst.

  Walking into the kitchen, I see Claire sitting at the table with a cup of
coffee. Even this early in the morning, she looks pristine. Her hair is done, and her face is already fresh. Unlike me. I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothes that smell of a college party and smudged makeup. Oh, and bags under my eyes.

  “Morning, Claire.”

  She watches me for a second before cocking her head to the side. “Henley … you didn’t come home. With the state you were in at the party, we were worried.”

  “I’m sorry.” I take a seat next to her. “Weston thought it would be best if I cooled off at his place for the night. He said you … weren’t very happy with me.”

  This is the first time I’ve talked to Claire in a one-on-one setting.

  “If we let you get away with this type of behavior, others will think they can do it too.” She sadly shakes her head. “I don’t love being the bad guy. Or the fun police. I just … have to be. If I want to keep this position.”

  “I get it.” I nod. “I really do. So, I understand if you don’t want me here. But, Claire … I can do better. I know that I can.”

  Her eyes stay fixed on me. “How do I know that? How do I know you won’t continue to tarnish our name?”

  “Because I’m giving you my word.” I reach over, patting her hand. “And my word means everything to me.”

  Taking a deep breath, she blows it out. “This is your last chance, Henley. All right?”

  Pushing my chair out, I stand. “Thank you. I can be better. Trust me.”

  “I hope so.”

  As I walk to my room, I realize I just gave this girl my word that I was going to be better. So, that means, it isn’t an option; it’s a must.

  Damn.

  Weston

  I brought her home, and she fucking left. Not a word. Not a thank you. Not a good morning. She didn’t back her sexy ass on me, begging me to fuck her. None of that.

  Just snuck out, like a fucking weirdo.

  What would she have done if I had taken her up on her offer and pushed her up against my truck and kissed her so fucking hard that her toes curled? Would she have pushed me away? Or begged for more? These questions of what might have been will likely haunt me.