Hate Notes: A Sweet Enemies to Lovers Young Adult Romance (Lakeview Prep Book 1)

by Gracie Graham

  “Good point.” Topher grinned.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “What about me?”

  “You’re not a jerk sometimes?”

  He winced like the words hurt. “Hey, you have to admit, you were staring pretty hard.”

  “I was not. I was—”

  “You were,” he crowed.

  “I didn’t realize it was you.”

  “What’s that mean?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying our exchange.

  What did that mean?

  He crossed one leg over the other, propping his ankle on top of his knee. One arm draped casually over the back of the chair as he waited for my answer. And all I could think was, It must be nice to be so comfortable in your own skin.

  I shifted my gaze to my nails, where I studied the glossy black polish. “It means,” I growled, “that if I had known it was you, I would’ve gouged my eyes out before taking a second look.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Topher mumbled under his breath.

  My eyes shot to him and narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  He lifted a shoulder, then dropped it. “Just that it didn’t look like you were disgusted. It looked like you wanted to jump me.”

  My jaw dropped, mouth gaping like a fish. I closed it, then repeated the process.

  Great, he’s turned me into a guppy.

  Annoyed with myself for letting him get to me, I snapped my mouth closed and spoke between clenched teeth. “Oh, and I suppose you’re an expert on what that looks like?”

  “You said it, not me, but if it makes you feel any better,” he whispered, leaning close, “I kinda liked it.”

  A choking sound gurgled from the back of my throat before I straightened, composing myself.

  He wanted to get under my skin, and I was letting him.

  “Whatever,” I muttered, then flipped open my textbook. “I suppose you’re sorry for being a jerk yesterday, too.”

  “Yesterday?”

  I huffed out a breath. Of course he’d so quickly forget.

  My fingers curled around my book until my knuckles turned white. “Yeah, in first period?”

  A crease formed between his brow. “You mean the name thing?”

  The name thing. Like it was no big deal even though they’d been torturing me with it since the sixth grade. Oh, how fun it was to be known as Skunk Girl.

  “Yeah, that and your friends stomping all over my stuff in the hall.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but I held out a hand and stopped him. “You know what? We make choices every day that make us who we are. No point in apologizing if you’re going to continue being a prick. ”

  “Whoa.”

  I bowed my head, feeling like a jerk. It was almost as bad as the text I sent him.

  What had gotten into me? I never spoke my mind or stood my ground.

  I pulled out a blank sheet of paper so we could do some problems when I felt the vibration from his silent laughter.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing.” He smirked.

  I gnashed my teeth together, shooting him an unamused look.

  “It’s just, I’m not used to you being so opinionated. You hardly ever speak in class. I think I’ve barely heard you say two words. Who knew you were so feisty?”

  I frowned. That sounded almost like a compliment, but why did it feel backhanded?

  “Yeah, well, you don’t really know me.”

  “True. I guess I don’t. You sure seem to think you have me pegged though.”

  It was a statement, not a question. And he was right. “I know exactly who you are.”

  “And who is that?” he asked, his tone hard as steel.

  “You’re Topher Elliot, King Royal. You walk on water, and everyone bows at your feet.”

  “King Royal?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t know what everyone calls you guys.”

  He exhaled and stared down at his textbook with a frown. For a moment, he looked almost bothered by it. But that was impossible. Boys like Topher didn’t care what girls like me thought of them.

  “I mean, I’ve heard the royal thing, but . . . Anyway, it’s not like I wanna be called that.”

  “Okay,” I said, when what I really meant was You expect me to believe that?

  “So that’s it, then, huh? One label and you’ve got me all figured out?”

  His throat bobbed, and he almost sounded . . . angry or upset. Which was weird.

  When I said nothing, he straightened in his chair and glanced down at his book. “Whatever. Let’s just get on with this.”

  Finally, something we could agree on.

  TOPHER

  I raked a hand through my hair as I helplessly watched Penelope pack up her things, knowing I screwed up once again. When I found out she was to be my tutor, it came as a shock. Like being hit with a bucket of ice water. But I quickly warmed to the idea.

  Maybe I could make amends for causing her so much grief in the past. Maybe somehow, someway, we could be . . . friends. I could show her I wasn’t the jerk she thought I was.

  Truth be told, when I strode up to her table, the nerves in my stomach squeezed so hard I thought I might be sick. So what was meant to be an apology wound up making her hate me even more. Go figure.

  As it turned out, after all this time, flicking the switch on my Royal persona at school wasn’t so easy.

  And anyway, what was I supposed to say? I apologized, and everything I said was true. I did kind of like it when she stared at me.

  Okay, I more than liked it. My entire body burned from the heat of her gaze. It still did. As pathetic as it was, her eyes flickering hot over my skin was probably the highlight of my whole day, my week, the month.

  So why did everything that came out of my mouth make me sound like more of a jerk?

  With a sigh, I shoved my notebook back into my bookbag. It was clear she already had her mind made up about me, and I couldn’t blame her. I was one hundred percent responsible for her negative opinion of me, and if I wanted to change it, I had a long road ahead.

  But honestly, right now, I had enough on my plate without worrying about pissing her off.

  I waited until she left, guessing she didn’t want to hold hands on our way out of the library singing Kumbaya.

  Making my way to my locker, I entered the combination, then popped open the door and chucked my bookbag inside before I grabbed my gym bag and cell phone from the top shelf.

  I leaned back against the cool, hard metal, having a few minutes before I needed to be in the locker room to change for practice when I checked my notifications.

  Frowning, I noticed a text from a number I didn’t recognize, and I opened it up, quickly reading the words clearly meant to sting. Or maybe they were a joke. I wasn’t sure. Regardless, I chuckled as I read.

  Not exactly a secret admirer.

  My mind drifted back to Penelope. This made two people who expressed their hatred for me today. And just like Ewe, this person clearly thought they knew me, when, in reality, all they saw was the social construct. The king. This perfect boy who always said the right thing, wore the right clothes. The captain of the water polo team. Mr. Popular.

  But that was all a façade, and I wanted to be more than that. Was that so wrong?

  I tucked my phone back in my pocket and headed for the pool.

  If I wanted to be seen as more, maybe it was time I started acting like it.

  Chapter 8

  PENELOPE

  My father arranged a ride from Mrs. Geigen, the music teacher and one of Elliot Landscaping’s longtime clients, on the days where I needed to stay late to tutor. As if I weren’t already a social reject, this alone would earn me major loser points. And it was pretty much as awful as you could imagine. After being forced to make small talk with her, I had to endure ten minutes of her yelling at her twenty-something-year-old son to clean his room and “get a danged job.” Though not in those words.
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  She pulled over to the curb in front of my house, but when I glanced over at her, she was too caught up in the throes of her conversation to say goodbye.

  “Food doesn’t grow on trees, Jacob. Do you really think you’re going to meet a nice girl this way, huh? Lounging around in your underwear with orange Cheeto dust all over your fingers?”

  “Um . . .” I pointed toward my house, trying to get her attention to let her know I was going. “I’m just—”

  “That’s it! No more allowance for you.”

  My brows rose to my hairline. Allowance?

  Finally, she turned her gaze to me, so I waved, then motioned to my house. When she nodded, I opened my door, mumbled my thanks, and all but ran from the car.

  I let myself inside, then headed straight to my room, calling Scarlett on the way. I only had an hour to myself before Sara had soccer practice and I had to bum another ride. This time with our neighbor to the soccer field.

  I supposed I didn’t have to go. After all, my dad would pick her up on his way home from work at the end of her game regardless of whether I went or not, but most of the Lakeview moms attended since the majority of them didn’t work. In fact, sitting at practice was like watching a behind-the-scenes episode of the Housewives of Lakeview. But I hated the thought of Sara being at a game alone, even if it was only a scrimmage. She was too young to remember our mom. She died when Sara was two, but ever since, I vowed to make it so that she felt her absence as little as possible. And although there were times where I saw her watching the moms with their daughters, so far, I’d done a pretty good job.

  I pressed my phone between my shoulder and ear as it rang and dropped my bag inside my bedroom door.

  “How’d it go?” Scarlett blurted over the line.

  “Like you even need to ask,” I said, envisioning Topher’s smug face. “How do you think it went?”

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Well, I guess it could’ve been worse. Can you believe he actually had the gall to try and apologize?”

  “Wait, what? And that’s a bad thing how?”

  “Do you actually think it was sincere? Like after six years of torture, he can just bat his eyes, give me some lame sorry, and all is forgotten now that he needs my help. That’s just more of the typical entitled Royal attitude.”

  “Eh, true. So what’d you say?”

  “I told him exactly what I thought of him, that he was a flaming butt bag.”

  Scarlett snorted out a laugh. “Seriously?”

  “Not quite, but I did agree with him that he and his friends are all jerks and not much was going to change my mind about that, especially not some half-hearted apology.”

  “Wow.”

  “What?” I asked, half distracted as I put my cell on speaker and set it on my bed.

  I quickly changed out of my shorts and top into a tank and cotton shorts. It’d be scorching hot at the soccer field sitting on the hot metal bleachers, so I may as well be comfortable.

  “Nothing, it’s just . . . Penelope Ewe speaks her mind twice in one week. Will the miracles never cease?”

  She had a point, although to be fair, I thought I’d kept my comment about him hitting on Ms. Stone yesterday to myself.

  I laughed. “Shut up.”

  “Maybe this tutoring Topher thing will be good for you, force you to come out of your shell and speak up.”

  “Don’t even say that.”

  “So did he text you back yet? I thought maybe while you were on a rampage that you might’ve confessed.”

  How did she know me so well?

  “I came close. As far as the text, no response yet.”

  A beat of silence passed before Scarlett asked, “Do you think he got it?”

  I checked my appearance in the mirror above my dresser and grimaced as I ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t see why not. He probably has his phone glued to his hip. There’s no way he hasn’t gotten it.”

  “Whoa. I just had a thought. What if it wasn’t really his number. I mean, maybe someone put that up there as a joke and you really texted Principal Bell or something.”

  My nose wrinkled at the thought because it would be a pretty good prank. “Ew. Could you imagine? He’s probably getting all these tragic love letters via text from half the high school.”

  Scarlett giggled. “It would be the most action he’s gotten in years.”

  On second thought, I snagged my favorite baseball cap from the hooks on the back of my door and pulled my long, dark hair into a ponytail through the opening of the cap, then headed back to my bed where I picked up my phone again. “Well, I guess we’ll find out, right?”

  “How? If it’s someone else like Bell, they’ll probably just assume it’s a wrong number and delete it.”

  “Because if it is Topher, there’s no way he’ll ignore it.”

  “I’m not following,” Scarlett said, and not for the first time today, I pictured Topher’s face while reading my words and imagined the blow to his ego when he realized not everyone thought his farts were made of rainbows.

  “He won’t be able to stop himself. Royals are so used to praise and veneration. It’s how they thrive. His ego can’t handle it. Just you wait and see.”

  I stared out at the lush green grass of the soccer field, shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun as my sister expertly weaved in and out of the other players.

  Sports had never been my thing. Maybe I really was a nerd because my love of literature and academics trumped all else, always had. And I’d never been ashamed of that. I still wasn’t. My grades and academic accomplishments were something to be proud of. But as I watched Sara fake right, then dart left and rocket the ball into the goal, her teammates launched themselves at her, hugging and high-fiving, and I wondered if I, too, had been good at a sport, maybe I wouldn't be such a social pariah. Maybe I would’ve been accepted. Which led me to the question: Why did brawn outweigh brains every single time?

  “Hey, P.”

  I turned to see my father hauling himself up the bleachers. He took a seat next to me and patted a shoulder in greeting. He’d learned long ago that hugs were not on the menu for teenagers in public places, unless you wanted them to get ridiculed.

  Little did he know, my whole academic career involved being ridiculed. Then again, how could he know? He had enough on his plate trying to provide for his family and play both Mom and Dad, so I kept it from him. Or so I thought. Sometimes I wondered if he secretly knew I got made fun of at school and just ignored it or if he really was that oblivious. Probably the latter, though. Dad wasn’t the type to brush things under the rug. In fact, he was always preaching about integrity. At the end of the day, integrity is all you’ve got. People can strip you of your possessions, money, pride—everything you hold dear—but not your integrity. That’s the one thing they can’t touch. The one thing that’s always yours.

  “Hey, Dad.” Glancing over at him as he settled in, I realized how lucky I was. As far as dad’s went, he was pretty awesome.

  He smiled at me a moment and his eyes crinkled before he turned his attention back to the field. “How’d the first tutoring session go?”

  Of course he’d remember it started today. Dad never forgot anything.

  “Eh, it was okay, I guess.” I surveyed my surroundings to make sure nobody was within earshot. “I’m tutoring Topher Elliot, so as you can imagine, it’s a challenge,” I said, even though as far as the actual tutoring went, Topher seemed pretty on top of things. In fact, he hadn’t needed all that much help, which made me wonder why he needed a tutor in the first place.

  His head jerked to mine. “You’re tutoring Elliot’s kid?”

  I nodded, and his dark eyes clouded with emotion before he turned away again. “So I guess that makes two of us working for an Elliot now.”

  He sounded exhausted, I realized, and for the first time since he got there, I looked at him. Really looked at him. The slump of his shoulders. The hint of shadows that ringed his eyes like
dark crescent moons while his jaw tightened.

  “You look tired,” I said, watching him closely.

  Then, just as quickly, he scrubbed a hand over his face and the weariness disappeared, replaced with a half-smile.

  “What? Oh, it’s nothing. You know how this heat drains me.”

  I frowned. It was always hot here. There were times the humidity was so thick, it covered you like a weighted blanket. Not to mention, he’d worked outdoors for Elliot Landscaping for years and never had a problem.

  I stared at him a moment, running anything that might have been bothering him at home through my head, but came up short. Other than my scholarship debacle, there was nothing out of the ordinary, and as far as he was concerned, that was taken care of.

  But something was up. I could tell. It was unlike him to lie, and I opened my mouth to call him out on it when Sara sprinted up the bleachers, a giant smile on her face. “Guess what?” She beamed. “Coach Mandy said I’m going to be a starter!” And amidst my father’s praise and Sara’s excitement, all of my concerns were forgotten.

  TOPHER

  The last vestiges of the sun slanted over the top of JT’s house, casting everything in an orangey glow. The hum of the pool filter mingled with the music playing in the background, along with the sound of JT’s raucous laughter.

  Next to me, Gabby laid in a reclining chair while JT, Mikey, Luca, Bridget, and Xia messed around in the pool.

  After practice, JT rounded up the crew for a swim at his place, which typically meant his parents would be home late so he’d sneak booze from his dad's liquor cabinet and flirt with Xia in the hopes she’d finally give in to his advances and hook up with him.

  Laying there now, I wish I hadn’t agreed to come. After my session with Penelope, I got a text from my dad, talking about how he spoke with his alumni at VCU, and my mood turned sour. Even practice hadn’t been enough to lift my spirits.

  My gaze focused on the ripple over the surface of the water, and every so often, Gabby reached out as if to adjust her bikini top, brushing the side of my chest like it was an accident. But I knew better. It was too many times to be coincidental. Normally, I’d turn to her and grin, charm her with a smile, and we’d wind up making out, which would spiral us wordlessly into “on-again” status. Like some unspoken contract. But today, I wasn’t in the mood, and the last time we broke up, I promised myself that was it. No more going back.