Want To Hate You ... Too Bad I Love You

by Melanie Marks

  Well, starting to.

  I swiped at my tears, glad I didn’t let them fall out of my eyes yet. “What are you doing here?” I grumbled.

  “If you read my texts you’d know,” he said, hesitantly coming into my room. He sounded frustrated, but his lips quirked a grin, “I texted you I was coming. I was following you.”

  “Oh.”

  A prickling sensation went through me—he followed me?

  Now I was so glad I didn’t let myself bawl on my way home. His seeing would have killed me. I mean, more than I was already dead, and I’d died watching him kiss another girl. So, I was completely dead. A zombie.

  I muttered, slightly embarrassed, thinking of my emotional walk home and how I thought I was alone and so I wasn’t guarding myself like a person normally would if they knew someone was watching, so I was pretty grouchy as I grumbled, “Then why didn’t you just call out to me instead of texting?”

  Grady gave a soft laugh. “Because I could tell you were mad. You kept bunching up your little hands into fists. And you didn’t answer any of my texts—or even read them. I figured you needed the alone time.” His lips twitched a faint grin. “Also, I was a little afraid.” His eyebrows quirked, “It seemed you wanted to take a swing at me.”

  When I didn’t say anything, just glared at the ground, his voice turned soft, “I miss you, Mandy. You were my best friend.”

  He tried to get me to look at him, but no way. I’d bawl. He curled his fingers into his shaggy hair like he wanted to rip it out. “Mandy, you keep acting like I rejected you, but I didn’t. You broke up with me. I didn’t cheat on you, and I didn’t stop loving you.”

  But you started loving another girl.

  Sure, he wants to still be ‘best friends.’ But what has he lost? Nothing. To me, I’ve lost everything—I’ve lost him.

  “Mandy, what? You think all my feelings for you just disappeared? They didn’t. They are still inside me, eating at me.”

  He drew out a breath. “You act like me liking her makes me like you less—it didn’t.”

  Well, it made me like him less. (Well, I wished!) (‘Cause I knew it should.) But no. Instead, it just makes my heart wrench. And wish for things to go back to the way they were—back when I was special to him. Back when I was the only one his eyes would light up on just because I was near—and because I was me.

  His.

  Now it hurts. Being near him hurts. Yet, it hurts to be away from him too. Everything hurts.

  I can’t be his friend, yet I can’t not be his friend. Nothing will make the hurt go away.

  “Look,” I tell him grimly. “I just need you to go away—please.”

  His face goes ashen. He squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw muscles flickering. “Is that really what you want, Mandy?—because I don’t think it is.”

  His tortured eyes cut away from me, then they squint at the drumsticks on my bed. He cocks his head, looking bemused. His voice soft, he murmurs, “You still have those?”

  He’s talking about the drumsticks I’d had signed by Smith. I’d had them secretly autographed back in middle school, when I was still infatuated with Smith. Smith hadn’t known they were for me though. I’d just asked the band teacher to have Smith sign them. Mr. Fitz had smiled at me like I was a cute little kid. “Will do,” he said. Then I stressed to him, “But don’t tell him they’re for me.”

  Grady had gone kind of pale when he saw my drumsticks were signed by Smith—back in middle school. I’d told him quickly, like to reassure him, “Smith doesn’t even know he signed them for me. And I never take this pair to school—ever. He doesn’t know. I just had him do it because I like drummers so much.”

  Grady had lifted his chin challenging, “I play the drums.”

  I grinned, “I noticed.”

  I’d laughed and mussed with his hair, “I totally noticed.”

  It was right after that, that we became a real couple—with kissing and dates and everything. Grady was my first and only boyfriend, ever.

  He stares at the drumsticks now, and rubs the back of his neck. His eyes lift back up to me. “Look, I went through what you’re going through, Mandy—remember? When you were all enraptured with Smith?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. That had been so incredibly, totally different—and he should realize that. Grady and I had only been friends back then … and I’d had absolutely no idea how Grady had felt. But Grady knows. He knows how I feel. Plus he was my boyfriend when he got all “enraptured” with Becca. So not the same.

  “We got through that, Mandy,” he tells me. “We’ll get through this, too.”

  He stares into my eyes, “Right?”

  I swallow. “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  But really—I doubt it. Completely.

  “We have to,” he tells me passionately. “Mandy, you’re my best friend.”

  Sharp pain slices through me. Can’t he get it? I don’t want to be just his friend. It hurts too much to just be his friend—to not be able to touch him. To not be the most special person to him. To take a backseat to conniving Becca.

  “Look, I’m hurting too,” he says softly. “When I heard you made out with Todd—for a second I couldn’t breathe.”

  For some reason, this makes me feel better.

  (Yeah, I’m real mature.)

  He goes on to let me know that.

  He grins, “By the way, I know what you did—the onion in Becca’s car? Real nice. It smelled so bad in there. We couldn’t figure it out. But once I heard she gave you a ride and you rode in the back, I searched her car more thoroughly, then found the source of the odor—onions. From a hamburger.” He raises his eyebrows. “You broke up with me, Mandy.”

  He keeps saying that. It makes my stomach knot every time. Does he really believe he left me with any other choice? That we could have somehow stayed together, and I should have been okay with that? Him wanting her, and flirting with her, and smiling at her, and kissing her, and skiing with her. And even more than that—it had sounded like he wanted to date us both. Like I was getting demoted from “girlfriend” to the girl he dated sometimes—when he wasn’t busy making-out with Becca. Did he really believe that it wouldn’t make me feel annihilated? … and kill me? Sharing him with Bimbo Becca?

  … And beside, did he really believe she would put up with that?—him dating us both? The girl couldn’t stand me even talking to him. Today as she stood in the doorway of the classroom waiting for Grady, she had glared at the sight of me talking to him like she was shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

  He goes on about my sneaky onion plant. “As soon as I heard she gave you a ride, I searched harder for the culprit. I didn’t explain to her what happened, and she didn’t put it together. She’s not like that.”

  Not like what? Not capable of wanting to rage against someone stealing her boyfriend? Well, that’s because she didn’t get her boyfriend stolen. Sure, it’s easy to act nice when you weren’t the one being knifed in the back. And the heart.

  I wonder what she would be ‘like’ if the roles were reversed, if she’d had a wonderful, adoring boyfriend and I came along and whisked him away. I bet we would see her claws come out. In fact, they did come out. She stole someone’s else’s property. Why doesn’t he see that? (Okay, I know he wasn’t my property but he was mine … until she came along.) But he acts like she’s so sweet and innocent, and can do no wrong. It hurts. So bad. It makes me feel so betrayed and slugged.

  I mean, come on. Talk about a person acting like someone shoots rainbows out of their butt. Geesh! (And sob.)

  “Okay, she’s all sweet and innocent,” I say bitterly.

  “She is.”

  “Ugh!” I growl.

  “Mandy … she is.”

  “You are so blind!”

  He slants his jaw muscles, saying nothing.

  It’s kind of like a slap in the face. I want to feel the warmth of his arms around me. I want him to be my old Grady. To love me. To not stick up for her.

&nb
sp; But as it is, I want to slug him. Hard.

  Through gritted teeth, I say: “Okay, go home. Now.”

  Chapter 52

  Grady leaves my house, looking solemn and resolute, but he goes, shutting the door softly behind him.

  Once he’s gone—really gone—I clutch my stomach. I have this feeling of doom in the pit of my gut. Like we’re never going to speak again. Like he’s out of my life forever. Grady. Gone.

  It’s like this dark cloud is hovering over me as the words sink in—Grady. Gone.

  I exhale slowly. Only a moment later I get a text from him. “I still care about you deeply.”

  Ironically, that’s what I’d said to him when he found my book about Smith.

  CHAPTER 53

  About an hour after leaving my house, Grady texts again: “Are we still going to work on the project together?”

  Is he insane??

  I don’t bother to answer.

  After a long pause he texts again: “I’m sorry you had to see that—Becca at my house and stuff. Mandy, I didn’t know she was coming over. She was on her way to cheerleading practice and she just decided to stop by to surprise me…. It was a nice surprise.”

  I turn off my phone, since his texts are slaughtering my heart.

  CHAPTER 54

  Around seven o’clock, Grady showed up at my house. He tilted his head. “What, you’re not answering your texts from me now?”

  I didn’t realize he’d kept texting … since I’d turned off my phone—to not get his texts.

  He seemed a little hurt by it, but hey, at the moment I didn’t care. In fact, I wanted to hurt him, since he hurt me so bad. First choosing Becca over me, and then defending her. I wanted to strangle him.

  Grady handed me a candy bar, “Peace … okay?”

  I took the candy bar and grumbled, “Maybe.”

  Then I added, “Who invites someone over to their house—practically begs them to come over—and then kisses another girl? I mean, who does that?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Someone that doesn’t have a clue how to handle this situation—but wants to figure it out.”

  He eyed me, sooo obviously wanting to change the subject to something other than me witnessing his kissing a girl. For us to be normal again, with me thinking he is the coolest, and wanting to be near him—every second.

  He shoved his bangs out of his eyes. “Did you write more for the game?”

  “No, I didn’t do any writing,” I mumbled grouchily. “I was too busy poking my eyeballs out from seeing you kiss a cheerleader.”

  He winced, then unexpectedly (and quite slyly) pulled another candy bar out from his jacket pocket. “This is for the trauma,” he said. “And also—” he made me look up at him, into his soulful eyes, “—I apologize.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Apology not accepted—but the candy bar is,” I said, snatching it from him. (Yeah, like I said: I’m super mature.)

  Grady looked away, which he always does when he wants to change the subject—which of course he wants to do now since we’re talking about him liking a girl … that’s not me.

  “I like what you wrote so far for the game—and your drawings,” he said. “They’re giving me all these ideas.”

  … yeah, but none of them have to do with breaking up with Becca.

  Blah.

  To my agony, he backed away slightly. “Well, I have to go,” he said. “I’m extremely late. I just wanted to make sure we’re good.”

  He looked into my eyes. “We’re good, right?”

  I swallowed, but nodded. Not that I really meant it. At all. But he was late for his life that no longer involved me.

  Hey, he was free to go.

  I mean, I couldn’t stop him—sadly.

  “Mandy,” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Then go,” I whispered hoarsely.

  He groaned, “Are we okay?”

  I stared down at the ground. “Best friends,” I muttered.

  He made me look up at him. “Don’t make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

  I rolled my eyes. It wouldn’t have been—if I hadn’t been his girlfriend. But now it’s like a knife in my heart.

  “It’s awesome,” I said dryly.

  “It is Mandy—it’s everything to me.”

  I closed my eyes. “Whatever.”

  I mean, let him try to tell that to Becca.

  CHAPTER 55

  Once Grady leaves, I email my civics teacher. When I get his confirmation, I quickly text Grady—just to warn him.

  “Hey, I transferred out of third period civics—so you’re going to need a new partner.”

  Immediately Grady texts back, “You transferred OUT?? Seriously? Mandy, you keep acting like I rejected you, but I didn’t. You broke up with me. I didn’t cheat on you, and I didn’t stop loving you.”

  But you started loving another girl.

  Idiot.

  CHAPTER 56

  After informing Grady I wasn’t going to be his project partner, my friends dragged me out to our school’s hockey game. I have to admit, hockey is pretty dang exciting. However, I couldn’t help being distracted, since Smith and Chloe were sitting right in front of me. I found myself wondering what it would be like to have Smith gently stroke my hair, or softly press his gorgeous, tempting lips on mine, since I kept seeing him do that to Chloe. It made my heart fill with this yearning that wasn’t completely due to just the reasonable fact I missed Grady and his warm kisses. No, I was actually yearning for Smith. Once again. Yikes!!

  But this time it was only happening because he was sitting right in front of me, so I got to see him in action. I mean, what he’s actually like as a boyfriend. And I’ve got to tell you—he is fantastic. Watching him be all gentle and sweet with his girlfriend had me breathless and panting and longing and yearning—and I got to do it while he was unaware that he was hungrily being devoured by my eyes. (Yes, I was once again stalking the dude. Apparently.) But he had no idea I was behind him. No idea he was inspiring more stories for “Adventures with Smith Cross.”

  But then I started to be more aware of Chloe, watching how she reacted to such coveted special treatment from Smith. She seemed to eat it up—it’s true. But I also noticed her texting a lot. And then I noticed what she was texting. (Yes, I was stalking … but it helped that her phone was gigantic, so mega easy to read while sitting right behind her.) What I read made me blink. And blush. Whoa!

  My heart was suddenly pounding all agitated. Chloe was texting some guy named “Teddy” and was telling him all this dirty stuff she planned to do to him tonight when he crawled through her bedroom window again, once she got home from the hockey game.

  Chills running down my spine, I sat frozen for a moment. Poor Smith! He deserved to be treated better—way better. Here he was, an excellent, perfect boyfriend. All night he kept playing with Chloe’s hair all affectionate and gentle and snuggling up close, close, close to her, and buying her snacks, and whispering in her ear, and kissing her long and lingering … meanwhile she was texting dirty things to another guy—totally cheating on Smith.

  With a throb of sympathy in my heart for Smith, I sat not knowing what I should do. It seemed maybe I should stay out of it, since I was being a total stalker. But then again, I kept thinking about how he saved me from humiliation that day when I fainted (and peed my pants!) I owed the guy. Big time.

  With trembling fingers, I quickly typed: “I think Chloe is cheating on you. She is texting some pretty racy stuff to a guy named “Teddy.” You might want to check-out her phone.”

  I watched Smith’s eyes widen and his brow lower as he read my text, then he quickly looked behind him.

  His eyebrows go up when he sees me.

  Without a word, he gets up and climbs over his seat.

  To my astonishment—he plops down right beside me.

  Chloe looks back at him, seeming just as shocked as me. But she also looks extremely annoyed. She grits her teeth. “What ar
e you doing, Smith?”

  He lounges his arm around me, looking all comfortable. “I don’t know Chloe,” he answers calmly. “Why don’t you ask your friend Teddy?”

  Her eyes go wide. She looks panicked for a moment, but then she tries to act confused and innocent. “W—what do you mean?”

  “I mean, while you’re getting nasty with Teddy,”—he takes my hand, gently pulling me to my confused feet—“Me and Mandy are going to go do some romantic racy stuff.”

  He puts his (awesome) arms around me, leading me away. My friends are all looking stunned, but smiling huge. However, Chloe is not smiling. Chloe looks ready to cry. And scream. But she also looks guilty and totally called out. Which is probably why she doesn’t say another word. Instead she snaps her gaping mouth shut and turns back to the game, trying to act like she doesn’t care that her boyfriend just left with another girl. After all, this is Chloe—looks are everything.

  Meanwhile, my heart is pounding wild. After all, Smith is holding my hand. Smith!! Yes, my brain is aware that he’s only doing it to get back at Chloe, but my heart and body—they just don’t care. They are giddy and excited that Smith’s warm hand is linked firmly in mine, and with that scrumptious knowledge, they just may pass out. (I just hope I don’t wet myself this time.)

  CHAPTER 57

  Okay, I sort of feel bad that I’m thrilled to be with Smith. What kind of creepy person am I? I mean, I know he’s heartbroken. Just been shattered. Unfathomably cheated on by the girl he’d stayed with his longest ever.

  Yet I couldn’t help getting a little thrill as he kept looking at me in his car. (Oh, he gave me a ride home, did I mention that?) After we wobbled/staggered out of the hockey game, he had precariously walked me all the way out in the parking lot looking a little lost. Let me tell you, breaking up with someone you love will do that to you, big time—make you feel lost and deserted and annihilated. And it had just happened to him, so no, at that moment I wasn’t feeling thrilled. At all. At that moment, I was feeling horrible for poor Smith.