Love To Hate You

by Isabelle Richards

  C: What do you want me to get you? I’ll bring you whatever you want, just name it.

  My eyes go wide. Bring me what? Why would he ask to get me drugs from the club? What the hell is he thinking? I’m about to ream him out when I see my text asking him for food. Oh!

  Jesus, I’m a moron.

  I text him back that I’ve changed my mind and pull a Monique Lhuillier one-shoulder beaded dress out of my closet. It’s probably swankier than the club calls for, but if I’m going to do this, I might as well make a splash. Go big or go home, right?

  I quickly do my hair and makeup, lock up, then take the elevator down to the garage. Once I get in the car, I put the keys in the ignition and listen to the purr of the engine. It’s seductive. This must be what Dr. Clawson was afraid of. Not that I’d go looking for coke but this freedom. Behind the wheel, I know I can go anywhere. Do anything. Avoid everything. All I have to do is drive and not look back. It’s tempting. But not as tempting as getting Chase back. I push in the clutch and put the car in gear. It’s time to go into the belly of the beast.

  Thankfully, the challenge wasn’t to see how far I could drive but just that I could do it, because three blocks later, I’m at the club. I hand my keys to the valet, then I freeze. The bouncer opens the door and looks at me expectantly. I can almost hear him say to himself, Get a move on, lady. I haven’t got all day.

  Entering the club will change everything. Either I’ll find Chase and say what I came here to say, or I’ll be distracted by someone with a vial of white powder and I’ll undo everything I’ve been working toward. Or behind door number three, I see Chase doing precisely what I insisted he do—spending time with someone who isn’t his cokehead ex-girlfriend. Whatever happens, there’s no going back.

  The bouncer clears his throat and nods at the door. “We ain’t air conditioning the outside. You’ve heard there’s an energy crisis in California, right?”

  Right, because this club, with its millions of lights and booming speakers, is the pinnacle of going green. It’s now or never. I pry my cowardly feet off the ground and walk into the club.

  The smells of sweat, booze, and fake fog waft through the club. The bass is thumping so hard I can feel it in my chest. Scanning the club, I search for the VIP area. Being here feels familiar, like driving through a town I’ve been through before. I know what to expect and roughly where to go. But as I walk through the club, I remember this isn’t a place I ever wanted to return to. Worried the sensory experience of the club would jar my memories and stir up toxic cravings, I’d feared I would start jonesing the second I got in here, but no. I feel nothing. The dilated eyes and red-tipped noses tells me it’s here. It wouldn’t be hard to find. I’m sure all I’d have to do is ask, and in less than five minutes, I could be on my way out of my own head. But I have no desire.

  A surge of confidence infuses me. I feel more and more assured with each step I take. The heavy beat of the music reverberates through me, and I enjoy it for what it is instead of its shallow promise of an impending high. A little voice inside me says, You’ve made it through to the other side.

  I’m flush with something I haven’t felt in so long: pride. I know it’s pathetic to feel pride that I don’t want to do something I never should have done in the first place, but I own it. I own all of it. The pride, the humiliation, the guilt. It’s all mine. But with every second I stand here without the urge to run, without the urge to get high, whatever hold cocaine may have held on my life dissolves. Coming here was a risk, but one well worth taking. It’s like radiation shrinking the cancer that’s been eating away at my soul. I relish the moment before I realize it’s incomplete. I need Chase.

  The VIP section is upstairs, but the bouncer guarding the velvet rope tells me it’s closed for a private party. Before I have the chance to respond, Sam Chambers, a wide receiver who has had a thing for me since he went to a clinic Daddy hosted when I was in high school, comes up the stairs with a barely legal girl on either arm.

  His eyes go wide as he wriggles out of the girls’ grasp. “Arianna? Hey! How are you?”

  “Good.” Pointing at the bouncer, I say, “Think you can get me in?”

  He puts his arm around my shoulder, ignoring the hurtful stares of the girls he’s ditching. “Of course, of course. I’ve got an open spot at my table just for you.”

  Casually, I step out from under his arm and offer him an apologetic smile. “I’m here to see Brennan.”

  “They all want to see Brennan,” he mutters. He gives a nod to the bouncer. “Let her in,” he says over his shoulder as he chases after the girls.

  The bouncer unclasps the velvet rope then steps aside. “Hold out your hand.” He places an iridescent stamp on my hand then lets me in.

  I don’t get three feet before someone recognizes me. One after another, players come at me as though it’s a receiving line, hitting me with a barrage of hugs and cheek kisses and sweet words of mourning about Daddy. It’s all lovely, and if I were here to be social, I’d pay them more attention, but I have other things on my agenda. I make my apologies and work through the crowd.

  Someone announces that the headlining DJ is taking the stage. The music gets even louder, oppressively so. My brain feels as if it’s getting scrambled with every bass beat. I need to find Chase before I get a brain bleed. Searching booth after booth, I can’t find him anywhere. Could he have left already? I look at my phone. No missed calls or texts saying he’s on his way over. Maybe he left with someone?

  Finally I see him come around the back corner. He’s smiling and laughing. He looks amazing. I can’t help but think how stupid I’ve been. How have I not been lost in that man’s arms every night? He looks over his shoulder then laughs again. A tall leggy woman with jet black hair comes around the corner right after him.

  Son of a bitch! I guess this is what I deserve for being so stubborn. Charlie warned me. I wonder if she knew. Did he tell her he was looking for other women? Did he tell her he’d met someone? I mean, I basically told him to, but since when does he do anything I say? Didn’t he know that I only meant that he should conceptually be more social, and by conceptually, I mean look around and realize I’m the only one for him and continue to pine after me? It seems so obvious! How are men this stupid?

  Legs is still laughing as though whatever private joke they’ve shared is the funniest thing she’s ever heard. I stand in the middle of the club alone, my mouth open, looking like a jackass. Some guy I don’t recognize comes running around the corner and scoops up Legs, kissing her as they spin. I notice a very big rock on her finger. She jumps out of his grasp then runs to a group of women, holding out her hand for them to see the ring. The women squeal so loudly I can actually hear them over the music. The guy steals her away from the group, dips her, then kisses her again.

  Oops. Guess I read that one wrong.

  Chase looks at them and shakes his head then walks away, leaving them to make out against the wall like teenagers. As he crosses the room, a look of sadness flashes across his face. After pulling his phone out of his pocket, he looks down and types. My clutch vibrates in my hand. He must be texting me.

  As I cross the bar, I practice my speech in my head so I can keep all my thoughts organized. It’s important I get out everything. When I get closer to him, I see the hopeful look in his eye as he stares at the phone, possibly waiting for my text. He’s so focused he doesn’t notice me standing in front of him. At that moment, my speech goes out the window. I put one hand on either side of his face then pull his lips to mine.

  I feel his whole body tense. He pulls back and looks at me quizzically. With narrowed eyes, he studies me. Is he checking to see if I’m high? The longer he stares at my eyes rather than in my eyes, I know that’s exactly what he’s doing. I want to be offended. I want to slap his face and storm out of here and not look back. I want to, but I don’t. I’m not running anymore.

  Of course he thinks I’m high. Just yesterday I made a huge ordeal about how we needed to b
e just friends, and now I show up at a club, unexpected and uninvited, and kiss him. I’m acting crazy, impulsive. Why else would I behave this way? I understand it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  If he thinks I’m here and getting high, then he can’t understand what I’m doing. That I’m here for him, for us. This is my “holding a boom box over my head” moment. But he’s so busy examining me for signs of drug use that he’s not seeing me. I’d do anything to get him to know for certain what I’m feeling. For him to see that I’m not high, I’m just passionately, madly in love with him. I stare back, trying to communicate telepathically. If only ESP were a service I could subscribe to. Chase and I would never fight again. Relationships all over the world would be saved. Somebody should really get on that.

  His face softens, and he finally looks into my eyes and gets it. A smile spreads across his lips. He cups my face, bringing me toward him, then kisses me. His soft lips meld to mine as his arms snake around my back, pulling me tight against him. In an instant, I understand that it’s all been worth it. All the pain, all the trials and endless errors, all the make ups and breakups were worth it for this moment. This is where I belong. Here in his arms, in his life, in his heart. It’s where I should have been all along. How could I ever think otherwise? Maybe it’s the intensity of the moment, or maybe there’re pyrotechnics in the club, but I swear I hear fireworks going off.

  We stay locked in the moment of tangled tongues, tender lips, and bodies pressed together so tightly the beads and sequins of my dress dig into my skin. Instead of pulling away, I lean in. I want to be as close to him as possible. We kiss until we’re breathless and the delicate skin under my lip is chafed by his slight scruff.

  He pulls away. “We have to get out of here. I don’t want to do this in some dirty, loud club. I need you alone.”

  Smiling, I wipe the lipstick smear off his upper lip. “Lead the way.”

  Shouting good-bye to his teammates, he takes my hand and practically drags me through the crowd. When we get to the front of the club, Chase hands the valet his ticket, and I dig through my purse for mine.

  His jaw drops in shock. “You drove?”

  “Yup,” I say with a sheepish grin.

  He shakes his head. “What’s gotten into you today?”

  “Your sister.” My car pulls up. “Where are we going? We have a lot to talk about, and I’d rather not do it at Charlie’s if that’s okay.”

  “I love my sister, but I’ve spent more time with her in the last few months than I have in my entire life. A night away sounds very good. But I have to be at camp at six tomorrow morning, so I can’t stay out too late.”

  I slip the valet a tip then turn to Chase. “Let’s go to your house. Then you can be closer to camp, and I’ll just go home in the morning.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “My house?”

  Leaning against my driver’s side door, I say, “Do you have a better idea?”

  His truck arrives, and he jogs to the driver’s side. “My house it is.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chase

  What the hell just happened? One minute I’m helping Kent, one of the trainers, propose to his girl by keeping everyone out of the back room while he popped the question. Then I come around the corner and bam! I’m kissing Ari. That’s about the last thing in the world I’d expected to happen tonight. After last night, I was sure I’d just renewed my lease in Friendville. But that kiss… friends don’t kiss like that. I keep waiting for someone to tell me I’m being punked. But there she is in my rearview mirror, following me to my house. This is happening. Whatever this is.

  I have no idea what’s changed since last night. I’m trying hard not to get my hopes up. Every time I do with her, I get crushed.

  Whatever brought her to the club tonight could just be a fleeting feeling. By the time we get to my house, that feeling could be long gone. Acting on this now could be an epic mistake. If I misread things and push for too much, I’ll push her away. I’d rather stay friends and at least have her in my life. I can’t lose her. She’s my spark. She has a luminescent energy that ignites something within me. She pushes me to be the best version of myself. Without her, it’s all meaningless, and my life trudges along in a bleak ocean of mediocrity. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep things right between us.

  When I pull into my garage, Ari pulls her car in behind mine. As she gets out, she looks at the green sports car collecting dust in the other garage bay. “When did you get a Maserati?”

  I close the door to my truck then pull out my house key. “A couple of years ago. Why?”

  “It’s just not something I’d see you buying. It’s not you at all.”

  I can’t help but smile. She knows me so well. I hate the damn thing. I should really sell it. “It was a dumb impulse buy. I think it has two hundred miles on it, if that.” I walk toward the front door. “Come on in. Are you hungry? I wasn’t expecting you, so I seriously doubt I have anything vegan or organic, but we can look.”

  She doesn’t move from her spot in the driveway. “Actually, can we go for a walk? With everything we have to talk about, if we’re outside and moving, I’ll feel less… claustrophobic. Maybe we could walk down to the water?”

  The San Francisco Bay is about two miles away. I look at her five-inch heels. “In those?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Please. If the heels would actually hold up, I could play five sets in these. I’ll be fine going for a stroll.”

  I shove my keys back in my pocket. “Let’s walk then.”

  We’re silent as we walk out of my neighborhood. The only sound between us is the sound of our shoes on the pavement. I have no intention of rushing her. When she’s ready to talk, she will. As we walk, her hand brushes mine, and a jolt zaps through my body. Even such quick, innocent contact gives me a rush. The second time it happens, her fingers slip between mine and we’re holding hands. Much like everything else between us lately, I feel as though I’m thirteen all over again. My heart pounds with anticipation, and I wonder what’s going to happen next. Sneaking glances at her out of the corner of my eye, I try to figure out what she’s thinking. The longer she stays quiet, the more my excitement wanes and doubt rolls in. Why isn’t she talking? What is she waiting for?

  Finally I can’t take it anymore, so I break the silence. “So…” I’m the king of profound icebreakers.

  She looks at me and offers a smile that doesn’t console me. She looks uncomfortable, nervous. “So.”

  I look at my watch. “I have to be on the field in six hours, and it would probably be wise if I get a little sleep first. You said you wanted to walk and talk. We’re walking. Maybe now’s a good time to start to talking.”

  “I’m not sure where to begin.” Taking a deep breath, she tucks her hair behind her ears. “I guess I’ll start by saying I’ve been lying to you.”

  That takes the breath out of my lungs a little. Lied about what? She really didn’t like the black bean burger I made for her last week? She doesn’t think the nickel pass plays I drew up were any good? She really thinks I shouldn’t have cut my hair this short? Or maybe she’s been lying to me about something bigger. Has she been using again? Maybe she’s been pushing me away because she really thinks it’s over between us but has been too much of a coward to come out and say it.

  Fuck. I did it again. I swore I wouldn’t, but I did. I got my hopes up, and now it’s time for her to crush me. When will I ever learn? Preparing for the blow, I clear my throat.

  “Would you care to elaborate?” I ask with an obvious chill in my voice. If she’s about to break my heart, I’m not going to make it easy on her. I try to pull my hand away, but she squeezes it tighter.

  She recoils, probably from my harsh tone, then looks at her feet. “I don’t want us to be friends. I never did.”

  Running my free fingers through my hair, I scoff. “Well, I guess we were never really friends. Enemies or lovers, that’s all we’ve ever known how to be.” Again I try
to pull my hand from hers, but she grips it so tightly I start to lose feeling in my fingertips.

  “Chase,” she starts, but I interrupt her.

  “Answer this for me—what was all of that at the club then?” With my free hand, I gesture to her outfit. “Why get all dressed up, looking like that? Why kiss me like your life depended on it? Was it some twisted kiss good-bye? If you’re just going to boot me out of your life entirely, you could have just told me then. You didn’t have drag me out here when I have to be at training camp at the crack of dawn.”

  “For someone so smart, you really are stupid,” she mutters.

  She stops abruptly and pulls on my hand, jerking me backward. My toe catches on a crack in the road, and I stumble, making Ari lose her balance. I lunge forward and catch her as she falls. She lands in my lap as I fall on my ass and skid across the pavement.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” I snap. “The last thing I need is to get some stupid injury now! I can see it now—Brennan Breaks His Ass Walking Down the Street. I’ll be a laughingstock for the rest of the season. Scratch that—for the rest of my career.”

  “I was trying to get your attention,” she sneers through gritted teeth.

  “If you haven’t noticed, you have my attention,” I shout, probably louder than I should for this late at night. “You always have my attention. Even when I’m not with you, you’re all I think about. There isn’t a single second of any day that you do not consume all of my attention. So now that we have that clear, why don’t you get on with it already? Say what you’re trying to say.”

  “I’m trying to say I love you, you moron! I don’t want you to go out and have a life without me. I don’t want you to meet other people. If you meet someone who sparks your interest, I want you to run in the opposite direction—right back to me.”