Hate to Love You

by Isabelle Richards

  After she’s applied the butterflies, she cleans the dried blood. “You want to tell me what’s going on, Chase?”

  I’m snapped out of my fucked-up fantasy, and I’m pissed. Pissed that I’m attracted to her. Pissed that I’ve got a raging hard-on that I’ll die if she notices. I’d rather cut my dick off than let her know she can affect it. Okay, maybe not, but close.

  “Let’s not pretend to be friends, okay?” I say. “I’m not in the mood. You’ve cleaned me up. You have fulfilled your obligation. Now leave me alone. I have to see a man about a hotel room.”

  She washes her hands, looking at me through the mirror. “Aren’t you staying with Brock?”

  I stand next to her to check out her work on my face. “Brock and I aren’t on good terms right now.”

  She looks confused. “Did you two get into a fight?”

  “You are a genius, aren’t you? It boggles my mind that we’ve battled for number one in the class for all these years.”

  She ignores my dig as she cleans up her first aid kit and throws away wrappers. “What the hell were you fighting over? You’ve been friends forever. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you fight.”

  I turn around and lean on the counter. “Yeah, well, shit happens.”

  “Would you care to extrapolate?” she asks.

  Turning my back on her, I leave the bathroom. “Ari, can you just back off? I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She crosses the room and puts her kit in her suitcase. “Well, you’re not getting another room. Just stay here with me. I have to get up soon anyway so I can hit the treadmill before my flight.”

  Like hell. “I’m not staying with you.”

  She puts her hand on her hip and gets that annoying superior look. “Seriously, you can’t put away our petty differences for one night? Really? You’d rather have your parents shell out eight hundred bucks for a room for you to stay in for a few hours? Have it your way.”

  Oh fuck. “Really? Eight hundred dollars?”

  “That’s what my room cost. It is probably more now, being last minute and all. Just stay. We’ve shared a room a million times. This is no different.”

  This is completely different. Sure, we travel together all the time, but my sister and best friend are usually there. And our parents. And I swear she wears more clothes.

  I heave a frustrated sigh. If I say no, she’ll know something’s up, and I refuse to let her have that power over me. “Fine, whatever. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  She turns on the ball of her foot. “Suit yourself.” Arianna gets the extra blankets and pillows out of the closet and helps me make up the sofa. She hands me a toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

  I close the door to the bathroom and bang the back of my head against the door. This is the night from hell. I fight with one of my best friends, and now my dick is throbbing over my nemesis. After twenty-five minutes in a freezing cold shower, my dick gets the message and settles the fuck down.

  While I’m finishing up, I hear the bathroom door open then quickly close. What the hell? I listen, trying to figure out if she’s still in here. Did she see how I reacted to her? She couldn’t possibly be making a move, could she? My imagination betrays me by picturing her joining me in the shower, and poof, Mr. Happy has returned.

  “Ari?” I call. No answer. I peek around the shower curtain and see my luggage.

  She must have gone across the hall to get it for me. I sure as hell hope Brock wasn’t there. Thinking about her trapped in a room with Brock takes the wind out of my sail. I grab a towel, wrap it around me, and jog into the room.

  “Hey,” I say, “thanks for getting my bag. You didn’t need to do that.”

  She’s lying in bed reading. “I realized you were going to have to put dirty underwear back on, and that just grossed me out. I found the key card in your pants.”

  If she were any other girl, I’d make a crack about her getting into my pants, but not with Ari. Not ever with Ari.

  “Was Brock back?” is all I can come up with. That bastard had better not even look in her direction.

  “Nope.”

  “Good.” I walk back into the bathroom. I throw on a T-shirt and boxers, then brush my teeth.

  When I come back out, she asks, “Do you know what the schedule is for tomorrow? I remember there’s a lunch or something. I got a text earlier from Daddy. He may not be able to make it, and he wants me to postpone my flight so I can go in his place. I’m sure they’ll be so thrilled to get the Aldrich consolation prize!” She rolls her eyes.

  I walk over to the sofa and pull back the sheets. “We both know that a room full of college football players would rather see you than him. Regardless, you’re not going. I’ll call Aiden and let him know you shouldn’t be there.”

  She puts down her e-reader. “Please, my dad is every football player’s hero. They’d trample me just to spend ten minutes with him. And what do you mean I’m not going?”

  I slide under the covers on the sofa bed and try to get comfortable. “You’re not going anywhere near Brock again.”

  “I have no problem with that, but when did you become the dictator of what I do and where I go?”

  “Apparently tonight. Just shut it Ari and listen when I tell you that you are not to go near him again.”

  “Damn, bossy much? If Daddy wants me to go, I go. That’s how this family works. You know that.” She plugs her charger into her e-reader, then places it on the nightstand.

  I fluff my pillow a few times. “Trust me, if your dad knew why, he’d agree with me.”

  She stares at me. I’ve said too much. Damn it, why couldn’t I just keep my damn mouth shut? She doesn’t need to know this shit.

  “Knew what? What are you talking about?” she asks.

  She’s relentless! Like a bulldog, she just latches on and won’t let go.

  “For once, Arianna, can you just listen to me without putting up a damn fight? I’ve had a hell of a day, and I don’t have it in me to fight with you.”

  “Does this have something to do with the fight between you two?”

  I slam my hand on the sofa. “God damn it, Ari! I don’t want to talk about it!”

  She throws a pillow at me. “Screw you! I’m just trying to be a decent friend. You’re completely shit-faced even though you never drink, and you fought with a guy you’ve been friends with for ten years, and you’ve got a huge gash over your eye. I’m just trying to help.”

  In throw my hands in the air. “Friends, ha! That’s a good one. We have never been friends.”

  “Fuck off! You want to be like that, get the hell out of here. Sleep on the street for all I care.” She storms into the bathroom and slams the door.

  “Gladly,” I yell. I don’t need this shit.

  I throw my pants on and gets dressed. Once my shoes are on, I leave the room, slamming the door hard enough that she’ll feel it in the bathroom. I knew this was a mistake. I just should have gotten my own room from the get-go. The second she stuck her head out the door, I knew it would be nothing but trouble. What a fucking disaster.

  It takes forever for the elevator to show up, and it’s full of drunk assholes who are pissing me off. They can’t remember which floor they’re on, so they keep pushing floor buttons and checking for the one that looks familiar. By the time we get to the lobby and I walk toward the front desk, I realize I’ve left my wallet in her room.

  “Son of a bitch,” I mutter on my way back to the elevator. Thankfully, I’m alone this time.

  I can only imagine the shitstorm of crap she’s going to throw at me if I can even get her to open the damn door. Sleeping in the hallway is looking like a better option. God damn, that woman knows how to get under my skin.

  When the elevator doors open, I hear Brock saying, “Come on, Arianna, stop being a bitch. Just let me in.”

  “I told you this was not part of the deal. Now back off, and leave me alone.”

  I break into a full spr
int. When I get within sight of her room, I see Arianna land a powerful left hook on Brock’s nose. Blood spurts everywhere.

  Brock lunges at her. “You cunt! Now you are really going to get it, and I won’t be gentle.”

  I throw Brock against the wall, cracking the plaster. “I thought we discussed this earlier. Arianna is off limits.”

  I push him across the hall and through his open hotel room door. He tries to fight back, which sets me off, and I pummel him until he stops resisting. I let him drop to the floor as I catch my breath. My heart feels as though it’s trying to break through my ribcage. “Stay the hell away from her. Now sleep it off.” I make sure he’s still breathing, then walk out of the room.

  Arianna’s still in the hallway, and her chest is heaving. I see a slight tremor in her hand.

  “You came back,” she whispers.

  “I forgot my wallet.”

  “I’ll never rag on you about being unprepared again.” She turns, but before crossing the threshold into the room, she pauses. “Th-thank you.”

  I follow her and gently close the door behind us. “You seem like you had it under control. That was a hell of a left cross.”

  “I do some boxing to train for tennis.”

  How did I not know that? Picturing her in a ring brings a smile to my face. “I can’t believe you haven’t pulled some of your moves on me, the way we fight.”

  “Oh, it’s crossed my mind. But your sister would never forgive me if I broke you.” She looks at my hand. It’s swelling already. “I’ll go get some ice.”

  “You stay,” I tell her. She shouldn’t be walking around dressed like that. I point at her blood-spattered shirt. “You may want to change. I’ll get the ice.”

  I grab the ice bucket and walk down the hall to the machine. When I get back, she’s changed into a men’s white dress shirt. From the size, I’m guessing it’s her father’s. The image of Aiden pummeling me for the thoughts running through my mind is the only thing keeping my hormones in check. She clears her throat and shakes her first aid kit before walking into the bathroom. I’m too tired to argue, so I comply.

  “What did you mean when you said that you had discussed this earlier?” she asks as she cleans my hand.

  “What are you talking about?” I know exactly what she’s asking, but I don’t want to talk about it.

  “What you said to Brock. What did you talk about earlier?”

  “Come on, Ari. Do you really need me to spell it out?”

  “Oh.” She finishes putting Neosporin on my knuckles. “You’re all set. Let’s get some ice on you.”

  I smile. “Thanks.”

  She hands me a towel full of ice, then sits on the edge of the bed. She looks sad, or maybe scared.

  “Are you okay?” I ask. “That must have been scary. I mean, I know you handled yourself, but still.”

  Her whole body goes rigid, and her voice is tense. “I’m tough, Chase.”

  She doesn’t look tough. For maybe the first time in her life, Arianna looks shaken, vulnerable even. I sit next to her and put my arm around her. It’s a reflex, what I would do if any girl looked at me with those big, sad eyes. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do and it has nothing to do with the insanely sexy way she’s looking at me. Nothing at all.

  “Toughest girl I know. That’s for damn sure,” I reply. “But you don’t always have to be, you know. You can still be tough and let your guard down every now and again. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

  She looks down and fidgets with the hem of her shorts. “I’m lucky you were here. I may have had a good left hook, but…” She fixes her gaze on the window.

  I hold her tighter, trying to block out the thoughts she just put in my mind. I’d like to think Brock would never let it get further than it did, but I never would have expected him to act like that. Bile rises in my throat as I envision what could have happened had I not forgotten my wallet.

  Catching me completely off guard, she leans into my embrace. Her hand rests on my leg as she allows me to pull her close. I can’t help but stare at her fingers fanned across my thigh. What the hell is happening? This is Arianna. I don’t put my arm around Arianna. She sure as hell doesn’t put her hand a mere three inches from my crotch. We can’t stand to sit near each other, let alone touch each other. Her hand looks puffy. She must have gotten him good with that left cross.

  “Looks like you need some ice for that hand, Rocky.” I stand and get a towel from the bathroom, thankful for the separation. I put a handful of ice in it and place it on her knuckles. “You may want to take some Advil. Hopefully it doesn’t fuck with your grip. I know you have to play tomorrow.”

  She walks to the bathroom and grabs a bottle from her first aid kit. After taking a few, she throws me the bottle. “Did you do that to his face?”

  I take four pills and swallow them with water from her bedside. Unsure of where I should be, I lean against the wall next to the bed. Putting the ice on her hand, she lies on the bed. I can sense she wants to know more, but I’m not sure if this is something she needs to know.

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to talk about it,” she says.

  The room is quiet. Well, if I don’t count the sounds of the city. The weight of the night’s events sits heavy between us. I look at her, and I can tell from the worry lines across her forehead that her mind is racing with potential scenarios. Eventually I decide it’s better for her to know.

  I sit next her. “He was telling everyone at the party that you two were screwing. He was pretty crass about it. I wasn’t going to stand there and let him talk about you like that.”

  “Wow,” she says softly. “Never in my life would I have expected you to defend my honor.”

  “How can you say that? Of course I defend you.” I’m pissed that this comes as a shock to her. “I may give you shit, but that’s me. I’ve earned the right from putting up with you my whole life. We fuck around with each other, but that’s what we do. No one else can get away with that shit.”

  A flash of anger burns in her eyes. “So it’s okay for you to treat me like shit as long as no one else does?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. Well, maybe I did, but it sounds a lot douchier when you say it. You and I may fight and go at each other’s throats constantly, but I’d never hurt you. I always respect you, and I won’t tolerate anyone ever disrespecting you.”

  She faces me. “That’s bullshit. I know you’d never physically hurt me, but you’d take any chance to take me down.”

  Glaring at her through narrowed eyes, I snap at her. “You have no idea how I feel.”

  She laughs. “Of course I do. You hate me. Always have, always will.”

  “I don’t hate you. We’re too much alike, so we have this stupid rivalry. We both always want to be the best, and there’s never been room for two at the top. But I respect the hell out of you. You are beautiful and smart and one of the most amazing athletes I’ve ever seen. You’re so fucking sexy, but you don’t screw around or use your beauty to get what you want. You could have any guy in the world, leave a trail of broken hearts in your wake, but I know you’re waiting for someone who is worth your time. You don’t need some guy to make you feel like you’re worth a damn, and that kind of confidence is so hot. Fucking intimidating, but hot.”

  I want to cover my mouth to stop the verbal vomit. Why the hell am I telling her all this? Sure, she looks sad and maybe a little broken, but that doesn’t mean I need to expose myself to her like this. She’s going to make me pay for this drunken rambling for a lifetime. Every holiday, family get together, and vacation, she’ll pull this out to humiliate me.

  She looks at me with this look that settles my nerves. Her guard is down. For once, she doesn’t look eager to attack me. She’s allowing me to see her bare and pregnable.

  “Really?” she asks in a quiet voice.

  “Yes, Arianna really. I’m drunk, and we’re having a bit of a moment here, so don’t use this against me later
. Someone like Brock has no right to think he’s good enough to be on your arm, let alone in your bed.”

  “Brock’s one of your best friends.”

  “He is, or was. I don’t care how drunk he was. I can’t be in the same room with him again without needing to break every bone in his body.”

  “Wow, I just had no idea you felt this way. I… I…” She looks down as a blush spreads across her cheeks.

  Not wanting her to shy away, I touch her chin with my finger and tilt her head so I can see in her eyes. I see something there I’ve never seen—a strange combination of vulnerability and desire. Before I have a second to talk myself out of it, I lean in and kiss her.

  Clearly taken by surprise, she doesn’t react at first. I mentally prepare to be slapped. If my brain were working properly I would pull away already, but I’m kissing Arianna, so obviously my brain is malfunctioning. I’m about to step back when the earth shifts and turns on a different axis.

  She kisses me back. Her soft lips move hesitantly at first. Her apprehension quickly dissipates, and her kiss becomes determined, confident. She touches me with her tongue, and I’m done for. I become insatiable, desperate for everything she’s willing to give. My hands move from the bed to her back, pulling her closer.

  Her fingertips trail down my back, tracing the contours of my muscles. When she reaches my lower back, she traces the bottom of my shirt, almost teasing me and leaving me desperate for more. When her touch grazes my skin, jolts of energy surge across me.

  But one touch isn’t enough. As if she can read my mind, she pulls at my shirt. I’m still in shock that this is happening, but I’m in no mood to question. I pull away and take off my shirt. I toss it aside and turn back to face her. I pause to process the moment. Is this actually happening? But she doesn’t give me time to ask before she crashes into my mouth. Our kiss becomes a feral explosion of tongues and frenzied curiosity.