Hating Tate - A friends to lovers romance.

by Raquel Belle

  “I didn’t …”

  “You didn’t what? You didn’t actually fuck him? It was just an online thing? Not real? It still fucking hurts!”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I hate myself for all of this. For letting this happen.”

  “This.” There might as well be a thud when the word lands. “Like, us?”

  “Like, all of it,” I say. “I’ve just tried to keep my head above water for so long. I shouldn’t have let lust get in the way of taking care of the kids.”

  “So that’s what it was? Lust? Just two people getting it on?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that,” I say.

  “Well it either was, or it wasn’t. Not both.”

  “I care for you, Rob. I need you in my life. I’ve always been scared to lose you. I still am.”

  “And Tate?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you still want him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He sighs. “I can’t fix this problem for you, Hope. You’re going to have to figure it out for yourself.”

  “I don’t know how to do this without you, Rob. You’re my best friend.”

  “Yes, that’s just what a man who’s in love with you wants to hear. You’re insane, Hope, I swear.”

  “Maybe I am insane. But I miss you.”

  “Hope, I’m so angry with you ...”

  “But?”

  “But I …”

  “Why don’t you come over here, Robbie? Just come talk to me.”

  He makes an incoherent noise. “I’ll be over soon.”

  Chapter Eight

  I get out of the shower and study my body in the mirror. My breasts have never been much to write home about. They’re perky, I suppose, but not big. My stomach is mostly flat but for the small pouch that remains from having two kids. My hips are round. I turn around and assess what I suppose is a good ass. It’s round, smooth. I have good legs. Long legs.

  I’ve never had self-esteem issues, at least not in the way a lot of women do. Emotional issues? Sure. But I don’t fret over my appearance most days. I have a good face. High cheekbones, bright, blue eyes. My hair is long, and dark, and curly. Crazy, really, and uncontrollable most of the time. I can’t even remember the last time I got a haircut, truth be told. But I could clean up nicely, if I had the time or motivation.

  I pull on a flimsy, silk robe that I haven’t worn since Alex left. I pull my crazy hair up on top of my head in a messy bun, put on some lip gloss and mascara, and open a bottle of wine before shaking my head.

  What am I doing? I’m trying to save our friendship, not seduce him. The sex is what got in the way of our friendship in the first place. Just as I’ve talked myself into pulling on some actual clothing, the parent of one of Eric’s baseball teammates calls with an unexpected invitation to sleep over. I share his health scare, and she says she’ll watch him closely and make sure he gets to sleep at a decent time. She even offers to supply pajamas for the evening, so I don’t have to pack him. I call Tate and let him know he should drop Eric with her.

  Rob arrives before I ever make it back to the closet. His eyes go wide at me in the thin, silk robe, a little bit of makeup on. He sees the bottle of wine chilling on the coffee table, two glasses at the ready.

  “Hope,” he says. “We have unfinished business to discuss.”

  “I know,” I say. “I was just about to change. I was in the bath when I talked to you and then one of Eric’s friends called for a sleepover. I just never got to it.”

  “Whatever,” he says, sitting down on the couch. He runs a hand through his blonde hair.

  I sit tentatively on the couch, pulling the lapel of my robe together, biting my lip as I try to get Rob to meet my gaze. He looks up, and his expression is hard.

  “I’m sorry I’ve made such a mess of things,” I say.

  Rob purses his lips and sighs through his nose. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, here.”

  “Say you’re still my best friend. Say you still care about us.”

  “Us,” he says flatly. “You and Eric and Amy.”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “I mean … I’ve already said I love those kids like they’re my own. I’ve known them since they were born. I can’t just … I wouldn’t just …”

  “Disappear?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll always be there for the kids.”

  “And me?”

  “Hope, I’m not into mind games. I’ve told you a million times I’m in love with you. For years. And you’ve never wanted to go any further than a very comfortable friendship. I’ve been okay with it. I’ve never pushed it. You came to me. You wanted to fuck me. It wasn’t the other way around.”

  “I know,” I say, my voice small.

  “I told you that if we took that step, I’d want you to be mine. And the minute we went there, you went right out and found someone else. You sabotaged it. Right off the bat.”

  I chew on my bottom lip, trying not to cry. He’s not wrong. Is that what this thing with Tate is? A way to sabotage anything real between me and Rob? My mind’s way of screwing up a good thing, just so I don’t get hurt again, the way I got hurt by Alex?

  I’m about to answer when the door opens. Maybe Amy isn’t sleeping over after all?

  When Tate’s face appears, Rob scowls. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Tate chuckles. “Interrupting something, I’d guess. Hope, I just wanted to let you know Eric has been safely delivered. We had a great day.”

  “That did not warrant a personal visit,” Rob says. “A phone call would have been fine.”

  “Yes, but then I’d miss the fun of getting you all agitated, now wouldn’t I?”

  Rob’s posture is pure offense as he stands—his fists are clenched, back straight, nostrils flaring. He inches toward Tate, who looks completely relaxed. “I ought to punch you straight in the mouth, Tate. Get the fuck outta here.”

  “Aw, don’t stress, Professor,” Tate says. “Looks like Hope here’s getting a little hot and bothered by our territory dispute.”

  My mouth falls open and my cheeks burn. “I’m not territory.”

  “You’re still rubbing yourself,” Tate says.

  I look down and goddammit if I’m not totally rubbing my nipple through my flimsy nightgown.

  Tate says, “Ain’t no shame in wanting us both. You’re human.” He takes a few steps toward me. “And sexual.”

  Rob steps in front of him. “Back off.”

  “Is that what you want, Hope?” Tate asks, not even bothering a glance at Rob. “You want me to go? Leave? Or maybe I should stay, and we can see what kind of mess we can all get into?”

  Rob looks completely scandalized. His mouth makes a funny puckered shape and his eyes are wide. Me? I’m a little turned on, not gonna lie. I’m not an experienced person. I kissed a girl once in high school and beyond that, my life has been pretty vanilla.

  Still, Tate’s not that kind of guy, I don’t think. He’s a rigid military dude, and he’s only saying this to get a rise out of Rob. Which has worked, as Rob is in Tate’s face immediately.

  “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, here,” Rob growls, grabbing Tate’s shirt as if Tate isn’t four inches taller and fifty pounds heavier than he is. “Maybe you just like causing trouble. Maybe you like trying to get what you can’t have. Maybe you saw an easy mark in a woman who’s clearly just trying to hold it all together. I don’t care, but I’m calling bullshit. Get the fuck out of here and leave Hope alone.”

  “Or what?” Tate asks with a look of amused annoyance. He basically flicks Rob off of him like he’s a flea. “You’re pathetic, hanging around here, hoping Hope will suddenly, magically fall in love with you. She fucks you because she doesn’t want to admit she’d rather be fucking me.”

  Rob’s fist connects with Tate’s face in an instant, but it’s Tate who takes the upper hand easily, slamming Rob into the front door with a force that makes the hou
se shake. I cry out for them to stop, but then I suddenly feel sick, so I run for the bathroom, falling to my knees, throwing up all of the contents of my stomach. I heave and heave until there’s nothing left and then curl into a ball on the cold, tile floor.

  It’s there that Rob finds me.

  “Go away, Robbie,” I say through my sobbing.

  “Nope,” he says, folding his arms over his chest. “We’re seeing this conversation through. Now.”

  Reluctantly, I sit up with my back against the tub. Rob’s still standing in the same spot, blocking the doorway.

  He sighs. “I came over here to tell you I agree. You’ve made a big, fucking mess of things. And I came to tell you that I know what you’re doing. You hate that guy. There’s no reason to fuck around with him except that you want a reason for me to back away. To stop trying. Because if I stop trying then you won’t have to try either, and you’ll be able to avoid any kind of real relationship.”

  “The last one I had …”

  “I know, Hope,” he snaps. “I know what happened the last time, because I was there. Every step of the way, like a big, fucking idiot. Thinking one day you’d get your head out of your ass and realize someone who really loved you had been there the whole fucking time.”

  My cheeks are on fire; I’m so ashamed of myself. I can’t even look at him, couldn’t even if I wanted to because my vision is blurry with tears.

  “What else?” I ask weakly as he stares holes in me.

  “I also wanted to tell you we’re through.”

  My mouth falls open.

  “I’m really angry right now, so I’ll probably regret it once I cool down, but ...” He sighs and bangs his hand on the doorjamb. “I’m angry that we hadn’t worked things out, and he showed up and all the sudden we’re ... whatever. And I don’t like that guy at all. Not one bit. And I can’t do this. It’s fucked up. So, I love you, but I’m done.”

  I can’t even form a response before he turns away. I hear the door open and shut. And it’s too quiet now.

  I get up eventually and find Tate sitting at the kitchen table, a package of frozen vegetables against his jaw. He heard that whole exchange. I sit across from him, scowling.

  “I suppose you feel like you won,” I say, my voice hoarse.

  He shakes his head. “No. That’s not how I feel. I feel bad because you’re hurting.”

  “Well it’s your fault,” I say.

  “I’d argue that it’s yours, since you’re the one who started something you had no intention of finishing.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You don’t love that guy. You only started something to avoid facing what you feel about me.”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t feel anything about you. Except maybe annoyance.”

  “You know that’s a lie,” he says, leaning forward, a smug grin on his face. “There is some serious sexual energy between us, and you know it. You felt it.”

  “Whatever, Tate. So what? I have years and years of friendship with Rob. He’s been there for everything in my life since college. Everything. My wedding, my kids, the end of my marriage. He’s always been there to pick me back up when things have been rough. There is no way I would pick you over him, ever. No way I would throw him away.”

  “But notice you’re not rushing to say you’re in love with him,” Tate says.

  “I do love him.”

  “I said you’re not in love with him. There’s a difference. I love my grandmother, but I’m not in love with her.”

  “Well thank God for that.”

  “God has nothing to do with this, sister. You are not in love with that man and no amount of intercourse is going to change that. In fact, I’d wager the sex has just made things worse.”

  “Oh, but having sex with you will make everything better?” I ask. “You’re one cocky bastard, aren’t you?”

  He stands up, then, looming over me. “I’m asking you on a date. Go out with me. Let’s get to know each other. See what happens.”

  I don’t even know what to say to this. I haven’t been on a date since Alex. Rob and I, for all the years we’ve been in each other’s lives, never did anything close to going on a date.

  Tate heads into the living room and opens the front door. Looking back over his shoulder, he says, “Find a sitter next Friday. Don’t take a shift at the bar. I’ll take you out. See you at six.”

  I sit at the table for a long time after he leaves, just thinking about what a mess I’ve made. It’s like eight, and I have no kids until morning and no men around.

  I’m actually relieved when I get a call from the bar asking if I can cover someone’s shift. I don’t know what I’d have done with myself otherwise.

  At the bar, I feel a little more normal. There’s a band playing, and the mood of the place is light. I find myself shimmying along to the music at one point, and it’s only when Tate’s voice cuts through the noise that I freeze.

  “What do you want?” I ask.

  “A Budweiser,” he says.

  “I mean, why are you here?”

  He chuckles. “I come here a lot. You just haven’t been working lately. I’m surprised to see you after the night you’ve had.”

  “I think you should leave.”

  “Why?”

  I don’t say anything. My cheeks are about to overheat.

  Tate gives me a lopsided smile.

  “Stop smiling at me,” I say, frowning. “You’re ruining my life.”

  “Give it time,” he says. “You’ll change your tune.”

  “Are you always so overconfident?”

  “Only when I see a sure thing.”

  I make a noise of disgust and go get his Budweiser. I ignore him for a long while after that, helping other customers and pointedly refusing to look at him.

  When the bar starts to quiet down, Tate catches my eye and says, “Maybe we should … talk outside.”

  I yell to my coworker that I’m running out for a quick break. She gives me a thumbs up, as I head outside. It’s balmy outside, pleasant. Tate and I sit on a bench outside the bar.

  “I’m sorry,” Tate says, “for adding stress to your life.”

  “That’s generous of you.”

  He pushes his lips out. “When I was in Afghanistan, I remember feeling like I really took things for granted. I spent a lot of time thinking about how I was going to woo my wife again when I got back. I was going to show her why we got together in the first place and beg her to start fresh with me.”

  “But she left you before you could,” I say.

  He nods, sucking in a huge breath and then letting it out. “Like ninety-percent of marriages fail after a child dies of cancer. Did you know that?”

  “I didn’t,” I answer softly. “Do you still love her?”

  “No,” he says. “I will always care for her. It was a shit situation. She’s remarried now. Happy. Has two kids. I’m glad for her.”

  “I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a child,” I say. “When Eric was just sick, I …”

  Tate takes my hand. “I know.”

  We sit for a while longer before I pull my hand away and stand. “I need to go finish my shift. I guess I’ll … see you Friday night?”

  He grins and winks, following me back in so he can settle his tab.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, I make the rounds to pick up the kids. They’re both tired but seem happy. We don’t have sports, so I putter around, cleaning up the house, and then we all cuddle on the couch watching a movie in the afternoon.

  Eric tells me all about his time with Tate. They went down to the river and caught a lot of fish. All catch-and-release, he tells me. Afterward they went to a pizza place, then for ice cream. He’s animated and excited, as he talks about the day, and I find myself really thankful that he had the chance to go.

  Amy says she had fun at the neighbor’s as well. They baked cookies and did their nails. I think they both stayed up too late, s
o I end up making them go to bed shortly after dinner. Neither of them argues with me. Once they’re both asleep, I take the dog for a walk, talking to Meredith as I enjoy the warm, late-spring air.

  “Mere, I think we’re in the Upside Down,” I say. “Rob told me we’re through and Tate convinced me to go on a date.”

  She laughs on the other end of the line. “Sounds like it. But you know what? I heard a weird rumor about Rob the other day.”

  “A weird rumor?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “I have a work study student in my office. She says there’s a sculpture professor who’s being investigated for sleeping with his students. There’s probably more than one sculpture professor at a university of that size, right? It’s probably not him?”

  The hairs rise on my arms. It takes me a minute to find my breath before I can say, “Yeah, no way it’s Rob.”

  “I thought that, too,” Meredith says. “Anyway, what are you and Tate going to do on your big date?”

  “Ugh, I don’t know. What do people do on dates? I haven’t been on one in a really long time.”

  She chuckles. “You’re asking the wrong person, Hope. I’ve been married for thirteen years myself, and the closest thing to a date I’ve been on with my husband is a trip to the grocery store when they were giving out wine samples while some weird guy played a keyboard in the cheese aisle.”

  I laugh out loud at this. “I’ve seen that guy!”

  “He’s not that good. It’s really weird.”

  “It is weird,” I agree. “I mean, who thought to put live entertainment in front of the fancy cheese display?”

  “Maybe they think it’s like a French market or something?”

  “Do people just randomly play piano in French markets? I think the French are probably more pragmatic than that.”

  Meredith shrugs. “The point is that you’ve got two men who find you attractive, and they both want to win. So enjoy the competition a little.”

  “I just feel so badly about the mess I’ve made with Rob. He’s a good person, Mere. He’s been there for me more times than I can count. I don’t want to lose him as a friend.”