Hate to Love You

by Jennifer Sucevic

  I slant a look Brody’s way as we walk through the parking lot of La Fuente. Which is weird, since he didn’t even ask where I wanted to go. He just showed up at my door thirty minutes ago and told me to change out of my yoga pants and T-shirt because he was taking me out.

  I peppered him with questions on the car ride over, but he wouldn’t tell me who let the cat out of the bag.

  “It was Zara, wasn’t it?” I ask for the tenth time.

  I should have suspected she would do something like this. She didn’t want me getting all sad-bastard on my birthday, knuckle-deep in a carton of chocolate peanut butter chunk. Which is exactly what my big plans consisted of.

  Brody shrugs, looking all cagey. “You’ll never know, will you?”

  Who else could it have been? Mom? Or, as he likes to refer to her as, Mrs. D? I almost snort. “I think we both know it was my bigmouth roommate.”

  He winks, and I’m secretly glad to have narrowly avoided the ice cream portion of this evening. How depressing would that have been?

  “Why didn’t you tell me yourself?” he asks as we hit the walkway.

  I shrug, keep my eyes focused straight ahead, and lie. “It didn’t seem important.”

  There’s a teasing lilt in his voice. “Didn’t think I needed to know something like that about my girlfriend?”

  “Fake girlfriend,” I correct because it feels like I should. Not necessarily because I want to point it out. Maybe I’m trying to remind myself of it. Who knows? It’s my birthday, I’m not going to think about it tonight.

  Brody holds the glass door open as we make our way to the hostess station located inside the restaurant.

  “Hi. I have a reservation under McKinnon,” he says, flashing his trademark smile at the girl working behind the desk.

  Her eyes widen as she drinks him in like a tall glass of lemonade on a scorching hot August afternoon. Not once does her gaze deviate from him. I’m tempted to roll my eyes. His effect on the opposite sex is ridiculous. I’ve never seen anything like it.

  No wonder he’s slept with so many women. All it takes is one look aimed in their direction—one flash of his dimples—and they’re putty in his hands, willing to do whatever he wants.

  Thank goodness, I’ve never felt that way about him. I’d be in so much trouble if I actually gave a damn about this guy.

  She perks up at the last name. You can almost see the lightbulb going off in her head. Although I’m not going to lie, the wattage seems dim. Okay, now I’m just getting bitchy.

  “Oh my God, your Brody McKinnon!” she gasps. “You play defense for Whitmore!” She leans across the desk, looking as though she might crawl over it to reach him. “I’m your biggest fan! I was at every single home game last season and all of your preseason scrimmages this fall!” Her hand flutters to her heart. “You are so completely amazing!”

  Brody takes a small step back but keeps the smile firmly in place. “Thanks. We always appreciate our fans coming out to support us.”

  Her smile grows impossibly wide as she bounces on the tips of her toes like an overexcited child. “Would you mind signing this menu for me? Then we can hang it on the wall.” She gives him a sly look from beneath her lashes. “Or maybe I’ll take it home and hang it on my bedroom wall.”

  My brows skyrocket across my forehead. I don’t even want to think about what she’ll be doing while staring at that menu. Ewwww.

  “Sure, no problem,” Brody says, looking like he doesn’t mind at all.

  She opens a drawer and hands him a black Sharpie. Hostess-With-the-Mostest looks completely starstruck as Brody scribbles his name across the plastic.

  “Feel free to write your number on there,” she adds huskily.

  And he does. I feel like I’ve been slapped as he scrawls something across the bottom.

  I look away and fight back the sting of hurt and jealousy blooming throughout my body. In all honesty, I have no right to feel this way where Brody is concerned. We’re not together. He’s not my boyfriend. We’re friends. Sort of.

  I shouldn’t be surprised by this. The hostess is cute. Actually, she’s more hot than cute. She has raven hair and gray eyes. And a curvy body. This is exactly the kind of girl I’d expect him to be with. Someone with big boobs, tight clothing, and a highly excitable personality.

  Unwilling to have a front-seat view of her shameless flirting, I take a step back, away from them. Letting Brody talk me into going out tonight now feels like a mistake. I just want to go home and dive headfirst into that carton of ice cream that’s sitting in my freezer. The happiness that had zipped through me on the ride over feels like a distant memory.

  I keep my gaze focused on them, forcing myself to watch the interaction. If anything can kill the budding attraction I feel for Brody, it’s him flirting with this girl right in front of my face.

  Hostess-With-the-Mostest is all giddiness and smiles until she peers more closely at the menu. As she stares, her brows beetle together in confusion before she glances up again.

  “Oh, I meant your other num—”

  “Yeah,” Brody says, his voice hardening. The easiness that had threaded its way through his tone earlier is now long gone. “I know what you meant.”

  His smile is strictly polite as he slips an arm around me. “We’re here for my girlfriend’s birthday.”

  For the first time since I’ve been standing at his side, her eyes swivel to me. Color floods her cheeks as she snaps to attention. “Oh, of course! Let me show you to your table.” She grabs two menus from the holder. “Right this way.”

  Brody glances at me as we follow her into the restaurant. Sorry, he mouths behind her back.

  I shrug, pretending that what happened doesn’t bother me in the least. But it does. My gut is still burning. I can lie all I want to him, but I can’t deny my feelings to myself.

  Watching other girls flirt with Brody is maddening.

  When did that change? For three years, I’ve watched girls fawn all over him and never felt this way.

  My mind spins as we walk through the main dining room. When I was younger, this was our go-to place to eat. The food is delicious, and it’s always crowded. So, I’m not surprised to see all the tables filled and servers rushing around with trays of food and drinks.

  As much as I hate to admit it, what just happened a few minutes ago has brought my relationship with Brody into sharp focus. I’m not going to dwell on the ramifications right now. I’m going to enjoy dinner. But later, when I’m alone, I need to think about what’s going on between us. Obviously, feelings are coming into play. And that, I can’t allow.

  I think it might be time to pull back. To protect myself before I fall any deeper. Because that’s the way this is headed.

  And sleeping with him…while it sounded like a good idea in the beginning, now has disaster written all over it.

  “Surprise!” a loud chorus of voices ring out, knocking me from my thoughts.

  I stumble to a halt as my eyes widen and fly around the table in the semi-private room we’ve been shown to.

  Zara rushes forward to give me an exuberant hug. “Happy Birthday!” she shouts. “Are you totally surprised?”

  Surprised is an understatement.

  “Shocked,” I say, continuing to glance around at the table filled with my friends.

  Luke beams and waves from the other side. Megan and Anna, who live in the apartment next door, wave as well. Mom—the very same Mom who lied to me about having to work tonight—sits near the end of the table. Her grin is ear-to-ear.

  The room has been decorated with pink and black balloons. There’s a fancy cake on a small table off to the side. A sign that reads Happy Birthday Natalie has been taped to the wall in the back.

  And I’m…speechless.

  Brody, who still has his arm wrapped around my waist, leads me to the head of the table, next to Mom. Glass bowls filled with my favorite candies are strategically placed on the long, rectangular table. Colorful confetti has been sprink
led across it.

  As soon as I sit down on the chair, Mom leans over and envelops me in her arms. “Happy Birthday, baby girl!” She gives me a big squeeze. “I felt so bad lying to you. Forgive me?”

  I shake my head, still trying to process what’s happening. “Thank you.” I meet her eyes. “Did you arrange this?”

  Her grin intensifies. “Nope. Brody did!”

  She beams at the man who has taken a seat next to me, across from her.

  Brody planned this?

  Why would he go to all this trouble?

  My eyes swing to his in surprise. “You did this?”

  He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I had some help with the planning. Your mom and Zara gave me lots of ideas.”

  Unwilling to let Brody brush aside the praise, Mom interrupts, “It was all Brody’s idea. He wanted to do something special for you. Isn’t that sweet?” Her gaze softens as it fastens on him. Admiration shines brightly in her eyes. Any reservations she might have had about me dating a guy like Brody have clearly been swept away. “He really nailed it, don’t you think?”

  My mind continues to cartwheel. Not in a million years would I have expected this from him. “Yes, he did.”

  I stare at Brody as confusion rushes through me. But it’s more than that. Feelings I’ve only begun to recognize and tamp down are hurtling to the surface.

  But I don’t have time to dwell on them because the waitress stops at the table with a round of tequila shots. Even Mom takes one, which is hilarious. She never drinks anything stronger than an occasional glass of wine in the evenings. And yet, here she is belting it back like she does it every Saturday night. The chips and salsa flow, and dinner is amazing. I order my favorite dish—cheese enchiladas swimming in a red mole sauce.

  Afterward, I’m forced to wear a huge sombrero that swallows my head as the waitstaff serenades me with “Happy Birthday.” Normally I’d be melting into my seat at all the attention, but I’m buzzed from the shots. Everyone is laughing and having a great time.

  We devour the cake and decide to head over to a bar to keep the celebration going. After Mom cancelled our plans, I’d thought for sure this birthday would suck. But that hasn’t turned out to be the case at all. I’ve had the best time. I’m surrounded by the people I love most. Mom and all of my friends are here helping me to celebrate.

  And then there’s Brody…

  The guy I’ve spent my entire college career avoiding. The very same one who I believed was only attending Whitmore to burn time until he moved up to the NHL, falling into any and every vagina along the way.

  But Brody has turned out to be a completely different guy than I pegged him to be.

  “Okay, sweetie,” Mom says. “I’m going to take off. There’s no way I’m tagging along to a college bar at my age.”

  I’m so glad she was here tonight. This dinner has meant so much to me. Again, it blows my mind that Brody is the one who arranged it.

  “Oh, come on, Mrs. D,” Brody cajoles teasingly. “You should join us. It’ll be fun.”

  Not looking swayed in the least, Mom shakes her head. “Nope. I’m going home. But you kids have fun, okay?” She pulls me in for another hug. “I love you, Natalie. And I’m so proud of you.” She kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, “I think you have a real keeper here. Brody’s a wonderful guy. The best one so far.”

  “He is,” I agree, gulping down the riot of emotion her words unleash in me.

  “He likes you a lot,” she continues. “I can tell.”

  I blink, unable to muster a response as a thick lump rises in my throat.

  Only now do I wish I’d told her the truth from the beginning. Then she would know that Brody can’t possibly have feelings for me because our entire relationship is a sham. This isn’t real. He doesn’t like me. And I don’t like him.

  “Ready to go?” Brody asks, interrupting my turmoiled thoughts.

  I smile and say, “Yup,” while shaking off the strange emotions coursing through me. This is my birthday, and I want to have fun. With Brody, I realize. I enjoy spending time with him. There’s an easy give-and-take to our relationship. With him, I’m never worried about being anyone other than myself.

  We all head to a bar a few streets over from campus. Rowdy’s is a hole-in-the-wall dive bar where they serve cheap pitchers of beer and shots. Every once in a while, they kick it up a notch with a local band. A lot of hockey players from school hang out here, which means that there are a ton of puck bunnies floating around looking for a guy to latch onto. Since I’ve gone out of my way to not be one of those, this isn’t my usual scene.

  We get to the door, and Brody fist bumps the bouncer as they exchange small talk. Other than flicking his eyes in my direction, the guy doesn’t say a word to me.

  It may only be nine o’clock, but the bar is already jam-packed. There are back slaps and chin lifts of acknowledgement as Brody grabs my hand and tows me through the crowd. Plenty of girls smile and wave, greeting him by name. He waves back but keeps it moving.

  In the past, whenever I’d see Brody out at a party, he’d be surrounded by a bevy of females. Usually there’s one tucked under each brawny arm. And it’s never the same girl. More like a revolving door of them. Even on campus, he has an entourage.

  And yet, since we’ve gotten together, I haven’t seen him with anyone else. For some reason, the girls have been keeping their distance. He doesn’t encourage or flirt with them. Even with the hostess from earlier.

  That was all her doing. Bitch.

  Whenever we’re together, my hand is firmly tucked in his. It’s almost like he’s afraid I’m going to take off if given half a chance. Which in the beginning—I’m not going to lie—had been the plan. If he’s not holding my hand, his arm is casually slung around my shoulders, anchoring me to him. For a guy who never wanted a girlfriend, he sure does enjoy having someone at his side.

  Brody grabs us each a beer, and we join the table with everyone from the restaurant, along with a few of Brody’s teammates who meander over. We do a couple more shots, and when Zara’s favorite song comes on, she jumps up, pulling me onto the dance floor. We carve out a small space in the middle of the chaos and let loose. Normally I’m not a drinker. Sure, I’ll have a beer or two, but usually not more than that. Tonight has been an exception. I feel light and happy. Every time the chorus plays, Zara and I throw our hands up in the air and shout out the lyrics.

  One song bleeds into three or four. I catch a glimpse of Brody from across the room. He’s taller and broader than most guys. Unsurprisingly, there’s a girl at his elbow. Her gaze is pinned to him. Her lips are moving, trying to engage him in conversation, but his eyes are firmly locked on mine.

  Satisfaction floods through me because he’s not paying her the least bit of attention.

  Zara moves a little closer. “What’s going on between you two?”

  I shrug. My eyes stay fastened to Brody as the tempo of my heartbeat picks up. “I have no idea.” I never expected for our arrangement to morph into something else. But I think that’s what’s happening.

  “Are you two sleeping together?”

  Surprised by the question, my eyes cut to hers, and I shake my head. “No. We haven’t.”

  It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t think it’s a good idea. It’ll only end up confusing matters between us.

  She glances toward the table again. “I’ve never seen Brody into a girl before.” Her lips quirk. “I think you have a smitten kitten on your hands.”

  My gaze reluctantly slides back to his. A little zing of pleasure slices through me when I find him watching me.

  Sounding devilish, Zara says, “Let’s drive the boys crazy.”

  Even though I groan, my lips twitch upward. I know exactly what she has in mind.

  Without waiting for agreement, Zara grabs my hand and dances around me until her front is aligned with my backside. She grabs my other hand and holds them both over my head. Slowly she traces her fingertips
along my arms and ribcage until they settle on my hips.

  I throw a glance over my shoulder to see if Brody’s attention is still focused on me. I almost laugh at the way his eyes have widened and his jaw has gone slack. Such a typical guy response. It’s ridiculous the way two girls dancing, laying their hands on one another, can bring most men to their knees.

  Closing my eyes, I sway my hips and feel the beat of the music as it pours through me. Once the last chords have faded, Zara and I separate. Instead of heading back to the table, we stay out for a few more songs until we’re both in need of liquid refreshment. We push our way back to the table. As soon as I’m within three feet of Brody, his arm shoots out, and he nabs my fingers, reeling me to him until I’m flush against his rock-solid body.

  “You,” he growls in my ear, “are in so much trouble.”

  I laugh and lean back, putting a bit of distance between us. I flutter my lashes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  The simmering heat in his eyes is enough to scorch me alive. Fire ignites in my belly.

  “You just wait until I get you alone,” he whispers harshly. “Then I’m going to give you a little taste of your own medicine.”

  “Promise?” Even thinking about his kisses is enough to leave my panties flooding with heat.

  “You bet your damn ass, I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Brody

  My arms are wrapped possessively around Natalie. After that little stunt on the dance floor with Zara, there’s no way in hell I’m letting her wander around this bar on her own. My eyes may have been locked on her while she was dancing, but I was more than aware of all the other drunk cocksuckers salivating over the girls.

  This is the first time I’ve ever felt the sting of jealousy whip through my body. I swear to God, if one of those assholes had even tried making a move, I would have went apeshit all over them.

  Luke must feel the same way, because Zara is perched on his lap.

  Watching the two of them out there…

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything hotter in my life. And—just to be clear—I’ve seen my fair share of sexy shit out on the road travelling for hockey.