One Week Hating You: One Week Series Book 2 (standalone)

by Roya Carmen

  “I’m sorry, Maeve,” he says. “Yeah, I still think you’re hot as sin, but that doesn’t mean I want to get into the middle of this whole thing with you and Parker. And I don’t especially want to stroll down Nostalgia Lane either.”

  “Me either,” I scoff.

  “You and me… It would be amazing, I’m sure,” he goes on, “but it would be a disaster. You’d want too much, Maeve. You always do. You’re not the type of girl who does casual sex. You’re a good girl.”

  Good girl.

  There’s those two annoying words again. Ugh…

  “I’m going to bed,” I scoff. “Good night.”

  I toss and turn. I can’t sleep. It’s cold despite the warm cozy flannel pajamas I’m wearing. I’ve been awake in bed for about three hours. Perhaps it’s because my heart hasn’t slowed down since I first heard those noises in the woods, since I saw that majestic buck, since I kissed Blake.

  I’m sleeping in the pull-out bed next to the kids, and Blake is in the bed on the other side of the camper, all by his lonesome. I wonder if he’s sleeping, or tossing and turning like me. I wonder if that kiss meant anything at all to him. I’ve replayed the scene in my mind about a dozen times. He drives me crazy – no one else has ever had that effect on me. How dare he call me a good girl? What does he know?

  I flush at the memory of his soft gaze on me, of the taste of his sensual lips, the feel of his hand on my cheek, how it felt to be in his hold; warm and safe. I want his warmth now. I want to taste his lips again.

  And I want to show him…

  I’m not the good girl he thinks I am.

  My heart is hammering when I slowly pull the fluffy comforter off me. I swivel around and settle my fuzzy sock covered feet on the cool floor. Damn, it’s cold. The heater’s working but it’s still pretty chilly. It’s also dark. I can barely see where I’m going. Thankfully, he’s only about fifteen feet away. I pad quietly over to his bed, and climb up carefully, and bury myself under the thick duvet covering him.

  My heart hammers. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I don’t really know why I’m doing this. To prove a point?

  I snuggle in closer and wrap an arm around his lean torso. He’s so warm and he feels so good. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding. I suddenly feel hot all over, and I wonder if he’ll ever wake up.

  I feel a stir, and a second later, he jerks around. His hands land on my face, and he feels the curves of my cheekbones, runs his hands through my hair, like a blind man. His breath is hot. I bring my hands to his hair, reveling in the soft thick strands. I’ve missed his hair. I draw his hot mouth to mine. His kiss is not hesitant this time, it’s wild and powerful and it feels me with need. He holds my bottom lip captive between his teeth.

  “Maeve…” he groans. His hand travels to the curve of my waist and down below to my ass. He grabs my fleeced covered rear hard. “What… are… you doing?” he whispers, breathless. His mouth travels to my neck and his tongue licks a slow line up to my ear. My hands travel the length of his torso – he’s wearing a soft t-shirt and flannel lounge pants. I pull up his shirt and run my hands over his hot skin. A growl escapes him as I travel lower. I cup him over his pants – he’s hard. I close my eyes, imagining him inside me, and I get aroused at the thought.

  This kiss is nothing like the ones we shared when we were younger. For him, it’s probably very similar, but for me, it’s a whole new ball game. Back then, I didn’t feel sexual desire the way I do now, the ache for a man to be inside you, to desperately want him to make you come.

  God, this feels so good, but I know we can’t – the kids are just about fifteen feet away. I was just trying to make a point, but now I’m really second guessing myself.

  “I’m not a good girl,” I say in hushed tones, and then pull away abruptly… let’s see what he thinks about that. He reaches for me, and grabs a soft hold of my arm.

  “I was wrong,” he whispers. “You haven’t changed at all.” I can’t see his expression, but I can hear the playfulness in his voice. “You’re still a tease.”

  I smile as I walk away from him. I feel vindicated. I also feel incredibly turned on, but I’m sure it will pass.

  I know I probably won’t be able to fall asleep now, but it was so worth it.

  Blake and the kids are up early. I’m pretty sure he didn’t get much sleep last night either, and the thought of that makes me incredibly happy for some reason. I hope he’s dreadfully tired all day. I myself, have slept in, and feel pretty refreshed. Blake is cooking up blueberry pancakes, and the smell fills my nostrils. I could get used to this.

  “Look who’s finally up,” Blake teases. “Did you guys know your auntie Maeve was such a lazy bum?”

  Maddie laughs. She’s setting the table, and Jake is playing a video game on his small device – I think he may be addicted.

  “Are you hungry?” Blake asks me. He’s still wearing the same t-shirt and lounge pants he wore to sleep. They bring me back to last night, and a flush rises to my cheeks – I can’t believe I did that.

  I walk over to the small washroom right next to the kitchen. It’s close quarters in here, and my bladder is shy for a second, but as I sit quietly and listen to the clatter and chatter outside, it gets going.

  Blake shoots me a quick playful look when I step out. He’s probably been thinking about last night all morning.

  I settle in at the small kitchen table. “So did uncle Blake tell you we saw a deer last night?”

  “A buck,” Jake cheers. “You guys are so lucky! I wish I’d seen it.”

  “Maybe we’ll go for a drive at dusk and see if we can spot some,” Blake offers as he hands Maddie her plate of pancakes. They look delicious. He’s even put a little square of butter on top – it’s all in the details. I love his many little thoughtful actions. If only he could be mute, he might be the perfect man.

  My stomach is growling by the time I get mine. I dig right in – I’m famished.

  Right after breakfast, I quickly check my messages. My stomach drops when a Gmail notification slides down the top of my screen. It’s another email from Peter. I eagerly tap on my Gmail app, hating myself a little. I hate the fact that he still gets to me, that he still makes me excited, curious, and eager to hear from him. I wish I didn’t care. I wish I could just say, “Screw off, Peter. Have a nice life.” After all he’s done to me, I still want him. It makes no sense.

  Hello sweetheart,

  You didn’t reply to my last message, and I completely understand. After the way I’ve treated you these past weeks, I don’t blame you.

  But I’d love to hear from you, Maeve. I want to know how you’re doing. I want to make sure you’re okay. I hope you’re enjoying your stay back home. How is your mother? How is Mandy? Marilyn and Tim? And the kids?

  I’d love to get together when you get back. We could start over, just see each other casually.

  Well, bye for now. Looking forward to your message.

  Love,

  Peter

  I draw in a long breath and resist the urge to fling my phone. How is Mandy? What a fake. He never cared for Mandy much. He used to always say she was beneath me. No one is beneath me. And no one is beneath him. Unlike him, I don’t judge a person by their jobs, education, marital status, income, or interests.

  …just see each other casually.

  So he wants to have his way with me, with no strings attached, no responsibility, and no commitment. He wants me to give away the milk for free, which is what I’ve been doing all these years. Does he want to sleep with other women too?

  Ugh…

  I hop off my bed and jump to my feet. Blake is crouched low on the floor, digging into the pantry cabinet where he keeps the drinks. I grab his arm and pull him up to me. “I need you.”

  He studies me curiously, wide-eyed. “Okkkaay.”

  “I need a picture,” I explain as I drag him over to my bed. “It’s for the plan.”

  He smiles wide. “Oh… the plan.”


  I sit him on the edge of the bed, and snuggle close to him. “Wrap your arm around me,” I command. “Pretend you like me.”

  He laughs. “Okay… I’ll try.”

  I snap a selfie of the both of us smiling, genuine wide grins. I quickly check the picture – it’s actually a really nice photo of us. “Okay, get lost.”

  He laughs. “I’m not sure if I like being a pawn in your little game. I should start charging,” he quips. “Twenty bucks a photo.”

  I smile up at him. “You seem to forget that I’m unemployed at the moment.”

  He grins. “Okay, I’ll let you use me for free.” He smacks his lips. “Maybe you could give me a foot massage later.”

  “Ewwww.” I pull a face. “I’m not going anywhere near those big dirty feet.”

  “Well…” He bites his lip. “I could think of other options.”

  I smirk at him and say nothing.

  “Maybe you could tease me some more,” he says, all smiles.

  I know he’s joking around. “You enjoyed that?”

  “Very much so.”

  Jake suddenly swoops in with a big jug. “I got the water, uncle Blake.”

  Blake smiles down at him. “Good job. You’re a good sidekick.”

  I pull my gaze away from them and focus on my phone. I select a few pics, including one of the s’mores I took last night, the selfie with Blake, and a sunset photo of the lake. I post them on Instagram and Facebook under the caption, Having a blast camping… just like old times!

  There you go, Peter. Take that.

  13

  WE ALL LOOK KIND OF RIDICULOUS in our puffy orange lifejackets. All of us are wearing them, with the exception of Blake who is apparently too cool for lifesaving wear.

  “You’re not setting a very good example for the kids,” I tell him.

  He shakes his head. “I keep one in the canoe. If we start going down, I’ll put it on, Mom. Now help me lug this thing to the water.”

  We both lift up the huge red canoe and I struggle a bit, but I’m determined to not let it show. Although, in my defence, I am about half Blake’s size. The kids are running around, excited.

  When we finally get the canoe to the water’s edge, my job is to hold it while Blake and the kids get the supplies; the snack cooler, the oars and Blake’s life jacket. Thankfully, he’s on top of things again. I’ve come equipped with a hat, sunglasses and my phone.

  The kids are wearing their Tilley hats and cute shades. They’re also slathered in sunblock. Marilyn would be proud of me. If it were up to Blake, they’d probably burn.

  I laugh at the sight of them, full of gear. In no time, the canoe is filled with our stuff. “Okay, who wants to go first?” Blake asks.

  They both jump up and down and stretch their arms. Blake smiles. “Okay,” he says. “I’m thinking about a number between one and ten. The closest guess gets to go in first.”

  “Five,” Jake yells.

  Maddie purses her lips. “Eight.”

  Seven, I think.

  “Maddie wins,” Blake announces. “It was seven.”

  He grabs her and plops her right in the middle of the canoe. “Okay, you know the drill,” he says. She sits down cross-legged on the floor of the canoe.

  I smile at the sight of Jake who is pouting, but he’s all smiles when Blake grabs him under the arms and swings him around. He sits across from his sister, happy as a clam.

  I smile. “My turn.” I stretch out my arms, joking around. My heart stops for a second and I’m taken for a whirl when Blake grabs me and drops me in the front of the canoe. I waddle and practically topple over, almost taking everyone down. I hang on to the sides, steadying myself. “I was kidding,” I say, breathless. “I can’t believe you just picked me up like that.”

  He laughs. “Don’t rock the boat, Freckles. Stay steady.”

  I settle my rear down on the seat. The kids are sitting comfortably in the middle. “I know how to sit in a canoe, thank you.”

  Blake climbs effortlessly in the canoe and grabs the oars. He gives me one. “I don’t need much help but let’s see how you do.”

  I roll my eyes – he’s so condescending sometimes. I turn around and assume my position – not being able to look at him is actually a good thing. I paddle softly. The lake is gorgeous and calm. It’s a beautiful sunny day and I spot a few kayaks and canoes in the distance. I inhale the fresh air, and try to remember the last time I did this. Why haven’t I done this more often these past years? I’ve completely lost sight of myself, of the girl I used to be. Sure, I love my life in Burlington. I love… loved my job and apartment overlooking the town, I like hanging out with my friends, reading, journaling, shopping, and dinners out with Peter, and seeing the occasional play. But this… nothing beats this.

  Even the kids are quiet as they take in the sights and sounds around them. They both love this kind of thing… they often go canoeing and fishing with their dad and their uncle.

  Blake doesn’t utter a single word for the longest time. So this is it, this is how I get him to shut up… canoe. Good to know.

  “See that island up ahead,” he calls out. “That’s where we’re going for our picnic.”

  The kids both cheer, excited. They’ve been chattering the whole time about kids’ stuff; the beer bottle cap collection they have going, a video game they’re both playing, and last weekend’s fishing trip.

  I’m excited at the prospect of lunch too. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into the salami sandwiches I made with Momma’s homemade bread. Peter would never eat processed meat with white bread, not in a million years.

  We work in unison as we come to the shore and pull the canoe in. The kids are better at this than I am. I suppose they have more experience.

  Blake pulls out the tablecloth from the cooler and stretches it over on the patch of flat land in the shade, on top of the rocks. It’s perfect. “You’ve done this before,” I say.

  He smiles. “Yeah, I’ve come here before. It’s a great spot.”

  We dig the staples out of the cooler; sandwiches, potato chips, grapes and baby carrots, and a jug of iced tea.

  I sit cross-legged and grab my sandwich. The first bite is delicious. As I chew and swallow, I stare down at my shoes – they’re so dirty. Why did I do that? Now, I’ll have to buy another pair. I look up to find Blake looking at me. He does that a lot, watches me when I’m not looking. He doesn’t avert his gaze or jerk away. He’s not embarrassed at all. I’m the one who’s blushing.

  A flicker of mischief plays across his eyes. “How did you sleep last night?” he asks.

  I know he’s thinking about our little… what could one call it? Tryst sounds about right. “Very well, thank you,” I tell him with a playful smile. “How ‘bout you?”

  “Amazing,” he says.

  I pull my gaze away. He’s too beautiful – always has been. I wonder if it will always be like this. Will I always be attracted to him? Even when we’re both seventy-five years old?

  I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted him. When we were together, I had him. He wanted me and he was pretty vocal about it. I could have had him if I’d wanted to. And now I can’t have him. We always want what we can’t have, don’t we?

  And there’s also the fact that when we used to be an item, I was still a virgin. I didn’t know what I was missing. But now…

  I like sex. I love sex. And I miss it.

  We’ve all finished our lunches, and the kids are playing tag in the forest. “Don’t go too far,” I call out.

  Blake smiles. “You’ll make a good mother one day.”

  I laugh. “Because I’m so responsible, right?” I say, my words drenched in sarcasm.

  “No, because you’re caring. Because you’re fun.”

  “Oh…”

  “I see how you make sure they have everything they need, how you laugh with them, how you make sure they eat their carrots.”

  We both sit quietly and look out over the lake, at the vast expanse of sky and
small patches of land in the distance. I like this version of him… quiet Blake.

  “I can’t believe you chose to leave all this,” he says.

  “I know… what was I thinking?” I joke.

  The thing is, I know exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking I’d get away from Blake, and from everything and everyone that reminded me of my dad.

  “I know you were going through a hard time,” he says quietly, not quite looking at me.

  “Well, so were you,” I point out. “And you didn’t just run off.”

  “I wanted to on some days,” he admits, “but I wasn’t like you, Maeve. This is all I’ve ever known. I wasn’t smart like you.”

  I shake my head. “You’re one of the smartest people I know,” I tell him. “You were just never… ‘book smart’. And skipping classes all the time probably didn’t help.”

  He shoots me a quick smile. “True.”

  Another long silence.

  “I’m sorry about the way I treated you, Maeve,” he says. Again he’s looking out at the lake and not at me. “I just… I needed to get away from you. I needed to push you away.”

  I’ve been waiting about ten years for this apology, but I don’t quite understand what he’s saying. “Get away from me? What do you mean?”

  “The reason I started fooling around with Tessa Maclean and being a total jerk…” he trails off. “I wanted to drive you away.”

  My stomach drops. “I just wasn’t giving it up,” I scoff. “You were seventeen. You just wanted to have a little fun. And I was just a tease, wasn’t I?”

  He jerks his head around. “Is that what you think?”

  “Yes. It’s pretty much how the story goes in my head,” I tell him. “For the past ten years, I’ve replayed our relationship, and tried to figure out what I did wrong. And the only thing I could think of is that I didn’t let you… you know.”

  His face falls and his eyes glaze over. He looks broken, like I’ve punched him in the gut. “I can’t believe that’s how you’ve seen me all these years… a horny jerk.”

  I smile. “Pretty much.”