This nicey-nice stuff is weirding me out. I’m not used to it. I don’t know how to accept it with grace and a giddy smile like all the other girls. No one’s ever been this sweet to me before.
“How do you get home from school? You take the bus?” he asks, walking beside me in the hall. Everyone who passes stares at the two of us like we’re some kind of spectacle. This time tomorrow, the whole school is going to know Thane Bennett has a thing for the new girl, I’ll suddenly be cool by association, and I still won’t give a flying fuck.
“God, no,” I say. “I ride with my cousin.”
“What if I drove you home today?”
“Stop.” We stop in the middle of the hallway, two rocks in the middle of a stream of people, all of them moving around us. “I get it. You think you like me. But you’re coming on way too strong.”
Thane offers a lust-drunk half-smile. “Sorry, Halston. I’m not usually like this. I just … really want to be around you for some reason.”
“No, thanks.” I keep walking. He follows. My rejection of his offer doesn’t faze him in the slightest. “What are you doing?”
“It’s just a ride,” he says. “You act like I’m asking you to marry me or something. I just think you’re cool. Want to get to know you, is all.”
Exhaling, I think of Bree and how much she likes Thane. How much it would irk her to know he’s showing interest in me: her insubordinate, ne’er do well cousin.
“Fine. You can give me a ride home.” I try to pretend like I’m not thrilled, but the idea of rubbing this in Bree’s face pleases me to no end. “But only because I feel sorry for you.”
He chuckles. “Sorry for me?”
“Yeah.” My gaze flicks onto his. “This whole lost puppy thing is kind of sad. You must be really lonely.”
I pretend I don’t know he’s the most popular boy in school, his smile capable of melting even the coldest of panties. Except for mine. Of course.
Following Thane to his locker so he can grab his bag, I compose a quick text and send it to Bree, hearts and all:
DON’T WAIT FOR ME. GETTING A RIDE WITH THANE BENNETT!!! <3 <3 <3
Fuck that bitch.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ford
“Principal Hawthorne?” Bree stands in my doorway after school on Wednesday.
“Yes?” I try to hide my disdain for this girl, but I’m sure my face has given away all my cards.
“You have a second?”
The coy, coquettish act doesn’t fool me. This girl would still be throwing herself at me had I not nipped it in the bud a few weeks back.
I motion for her to come in, and she takes the chair across from me.
“As senior class president, we’re going to be working closely together this school year. I chair a lot of committees, and my goal is to implement at least ten new policies this year, which you will have to sign off on.”
“All right.” I fold my hands across my desk, my bored gaze drifting out the window to my right where throngs of students make their way to the parking lot like a herd of sheep, only the moment I see Halston standing next to another student, I can’t pay attention to a word Bree is saying.
The other student, a tall, athletic type with sandy hair and the kind of smug smirk that tells me he’s used to getting whatever he wants, puts his arm around her, pulling her against him.
She laughs, pushing him away before pretending to hit his arm.
I know his type.
I know his tricks.
Hell, back in high school, I was him.
“Principal, are you listening?” Bree asks, frowning.
“Yes,” I lie.
“Then what did I just say?”
For fuck’s sake.
Bree whips around, staring out the window just in time to see Halston walk off with the boy.
“Oh, yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “Thane Bennett asked my cousin on a date. He just wants to use her for sex.”
“Excuse me?”
Turning to face me, Bree shrugs. “He uses everyone for sex. Everyone knows that. He’s already slept with half the school.”
My jaw tenses. “You should warn her.”
She scoffs. “Not going to waste my breath. Halston doesn’t listen to anyone. And she’s probably only hanging out with him to get back at me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Why are you so interested in our girl drama?” Her face is pinched, confused. “Can we get back to talking about committees? Specifically, the homecoming committee? Since the dance is in three weeks?”
“Right. Continue.”
“Okay, so I’m going to have a sign-up sheet posted on the …”
I tune her out again, watching as Halston and Thane disappear behind a row of waxy, shiny imports.
God help him if he so much as thinks about using her.
She’s been used her whole life.
I refuse to sit back and let it happen again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Halston
He’s a good kisser.
Too good, if I’m being honest.
I try not to think about how many girls his tongue has tasted before, how many Victoria’s Secret-covered tits and asses he’s groped and grabbed because the girls at our school seem to sacrifice themselves to him willingly and without question.
I try not to think about anything at all.
Crammed in the backseat of Thane’s BMW on a Friday night, my legs straddle his lap and my shirt is somewhere in the front seat. We’re in the middle of some barren cornfield outside of town, the moon gleaming through the sunroof above us as some California punk pop band plays from his speakers.
Aunt Tab and Uncle Vic think I’m staying the night with Emily, who just so happens to be out of town this weekend and is none the wiser. Thane’s parents think he’s staying the night with one of his friends. We were going to camp out here tonight, under the stars, talking and listening to music.
It was supposed to be innocent. Just “hanging out” as he kept calling it. But flirting at dinner turned into handholding at the movies and when he started kissing me out here twenty minutes ago, I found myself actually enjoying it, enjoying the distraction from my everyday life, and somehow, we’ve migrated to the backseat.
My hips grind against his, his hardness straining against his jeans.
I’m wet and aching, but I’m not going to fuck him.
Yet, at least.
If he wants this, he’s going to have to work for it.
I may be a lot of things, but easy isn’t one of them.
Thane’s hands are in my hair, his soft lips working mine. If I grind hard enough, fast enough, I might be able to make myself cum.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispers, his mouth grazing mine before traveling lower. He presses hot kisses into my neck, his hands traveling to my breasts, untucking them from the silky cups of my satin bra. Thane takes a nipple in his mouth, gently dragging his teeth across the swollen bud. “I can’t wait to fuck you, Halston.”
“You’re going to have to,” I whisper, smirking in the dark, my hands draped over his broad shoulders. If he’s this big and built for an eighteen-year-old, I can only imagine what he’s packing below.
“I don’t know if I can,” he moans. “You’re so sexy I can hardly stand it.” He kisses me, running his thumb across my bottom lip, our eyes meeting. “Your mouth. This bangin’ body.”
“A week ago, you didn’t know I existed,” I say, my words breathy and playful. “I think you can wait a little while longer.”
His hands grip my hips, pressing me against him as he rocks our bodies, teasing me with the promise of a rock-hard cock.
“You keep putting up walls, and I keep tearing them down. I’ll tear this one down, too. Just watch,” he says, smirking. “You like me. And you don’t want to wait any more than I do.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Thane Bennett.” I bury my face in his shoulder so he can’t see me smile. We’ve spe
nt the better part of the week doing more flirting than chemistry assignments, and when he takes me home after school, he takes the long way so we can talk.
Every part of me has no intentions of liking him.
Yet it’s happening anyway.
And there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.
“I like when you say that,” he moans, gripping my ass.
“Say what?”
“My whole name,” he says, “like you just did.”
I laugh. “Thane Bennett?”
“Yeah.” He cups my chin, kissing me again. “You should practice. You’re going to be saying it a lot.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “I don’t say anyone’s name during sex, and if I did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be their full name.”
I ponder, for a second, the possibility that Thane gets off on girls going gaga for him, on his name being synonymous with popularity and good looks. Thane Bennett is practically a household name at Rosefield. A brand with an air of exclusivity.
He’s completely lost touch with reality.
“I think you’ve let your popularity go to your head,” I say, leaning back as much as I can. His lips are still parted, his eyes half open.
“What are you talking about?”
“I couldn’t give two shits about how many girls want to date you or how many passes you caught at the last game,” I say. “If I let you fuck me, it’ll be because I like you. And I mean you. Not Thane Bennett, you.”
I expect his face to light. I expect to see some kind of sign, an acknowledgement that this is a good thing, a realization that I’m not like most girls.
Instead, he exhales, running his palms up and down his face and groaning.
“Well, shit.” Thane sighs, turning his head toward one of the back windows and refusing to look at me. His hands rest useless at his sides, like he’s done touching me.
“I’m more work than you thought I was going to be, huh?”
His hands slide down my lower back as he pulls my hips harder against his, pinning me to him. “Don’t be like this. Come on. We’re having a good time.”
My palms flatten against his chest, and I try to push myself off of him, but he’s too strong. He won’t let me go. The second his grip loosens, it travels to the straps of my bra, tugging them down my shoulders. I try to yank them from his fingers, only he won’t let go and one of them snaps and breaks.
“Oh, shit.” Thane’s eyes study mine as he waits for my reaction.
Saying nothing, I climb over his console and into the front seat, searching in the dark for my shirt. I’m leaving.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Take me home.” I’m a fucking moron. “I actually believed for four straight days that you were into me.”
“What are you talking about? I am into you.”
If he truly liked me, he’d have taken my hands in his, kissed me, and said he’d wait until I was ready. Guess the whole gentleman shtick was nothing more than a ruse.
“No. You brought me out here because you thought I was going to fuck you, and the second I said I wasn’t, you got all pissy about it. So, take me fucking home.”
“What did you think we were going to do, Halston, huh? You and me, alone, out here? You didn’t think it was going to come to this?”
“Shameless.” My arms tighten across my chest. “You’re a real fucking winner.”
“Stop overreacting.”
“I’m not overreacting. I’m over you.” I say, pulling my shirt over my head.
He’s still in the backseat, cozied up in the middle and not so much as moving an inch.
“You going to drive me home or what?” I ask.
“Your aunt and uncle think you’re staying at Emily’s,” he says. “What are you going to tell them?”
His question is rooted in nothing more than concern for his own self. He’s afraid he’ll get in trouble if I tell them the truth.
“Don’t worry,” I huff. “I won’t be telling anybody about this.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Rolling my eyes, I tug the hem of my shirt down. “That this was a mistake. One I’d like to forget.”
His expression is bathed in genuine shock. I’m sure I’m the only girl he’s ever “hung out” with who has so much as dared to imply that getting hot and heavy in the backseat of Thane Bennett’s BMW is something they’d sooner forget.
Yanking the door handle, I step out of the car, which sends him scrambling to get out of the backseat. Finally.
“Where are you going?” he asks, his athletic body squeezing out from behind the backseat of his coupe.
“Home.” With my bag hanging across my body and my arms folded, I trudge through a muddy cornfield, toward the twinkle of city lights in the distance. My feet sink into the soft earth with each step, and I’ll be trudging down gravel roads and through weedy thickets, but home is just a few miles from here.
I’d rather walk for the next hour than spend another minute next to Thane.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ford
I’m half asleep on the sofa Friday night when the faintest knock on my door has me convinced I’m dreaming.
Until I hear it again.
Peeling myself up, I finger comb my hair into place and shuffle to the door. If it’s Melissa fucking Gunderson, I’m going to scream.
But it’s not Melissa.
Quite the contrary.
“Halston.” She’s the last person I expected to see standing at my doorstep at eleven thirty on a Friday night, but there she is, her clothes and hair disheveled, and her shoes covered in mud.
“I need a place to stay.”
“And your principal’s house seemed like the best option?” I lift a brow, pretending that’s the more pressing concern when really I want to know why the fuck she looks worse for the wear.
“Yeah.” She pushes past me, showing herself in. Halston slides her dirty shoes off and leaves them on the rug by the door. “Believe it or not.”
Glancing outside, I make sure no one saw her come inside, and then I lock the door. “What happened? You okay?”
Halston rolls her eyes before taking a seat in my chair. “Don’t want to talk about it.”
“If I’m taking you in, I need to know why,” I say, a million scenarios running through my head. Every part of me knows this is wrong, and if anyone caught us, they’d never believe that my intentions were noble. But every part of me knows I can’t shut her out.
“My aunt and uncle think I’m staying with a friend. I was really going to stay with a guy.” She exhales, running her tongue along her full lips. They’re swollen, like she spent the last several hours making out. Her elbows rest on her knees, her body hunched forward. “Long story short, he thought he was going to fuck me, and I asked him to take me home. When he wouldn’t, I got out of the car and walked … through a muddy cornfield … down a gravel road ... and into town.”
Exhaling, I hide my relief.
“Smart,” I say.
Her emerald gaze flicks to mine. “I don’t need your validation.”
Smirking, I place my palms up. “All right.”
Reaching for a book on my coffee table, she examines the cover. “A Wrinkle in Time. Why would you read this depressing shit?”
“It’s a classic.”
“It’s sad as fuck.” She tosses it aside, reaching for another book, making faces when she doesn’t find one that suits her liking.
“I have more upstairs,” I say. “In my library. But you can’t go up there.”
She arches a brow. “Why not?”
“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”
Tossing her head back, she laughs. “Nothing about me being here with you right now is appropriate. I think we passed that a long time ago, don’t you?”
“I’m sitting here.” I drag my teeth along my lower lip, watching how she brushes her hair over her shoulder and tilts her head as she checks out my living room. “Yo
u’re over there. I’d say we’re being pretty fucking appropriate right now.”
“Then can I see your library?”
“No.”
Her brows meet. “What are you worried about?”
That I’ll get her upstairs, mere feet from my bedroom. That I’ll want to kiss her. That I won’t be able to stop. That I’ll lose all fucking control. That everything I’ve ever worked for will go down in flames because of a young woman named Halston Kessler.
“I’m not worried about anything,” I lie. “But you’re still not going upstairs.”
“You’re really high strung. Explains why you’re such a control freak.”
I shrug, refusing to apologize for my inherent need for power over every situation.
“When was the last time you got laid?” she asks.
“I’m not discussing my sex life with you. Not anymore.”
“I don’t know what the difference is between now and a few weeks ago,” she says. “I’m still Absinthe. You’re still Kerouac. Only this time we’re in the same room, sitting here trying to pretend we’re not ridiculously attracted to each other and that you haven’t wondered what it would feel like to touch me.”
I exhale, refusing to dignify her with a response.
“Admit it. You’ve thought about me.” She drags a fingertip down the front of her twisted lips, fighting a chuckle. “My mouth on your cock. Your fingers in my pussy. I know I’ve thought about it. So much.”
Glancing away, I pull in a tight breath and let it go. “I’m your principal and you’re my student. I would never touch you. I would never cross that line.”
“But what if you could? What if you knew with one-hundred percent certainty that we would never get caught?” She crosses her legs, angling her body toward me. “Would you do it?”
“No.”
“I would.” Her bee stung lips tug up at one side. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m just being honest.”
“You’re not making me uncomfortable.” I sigh, covering my face with my hands. I’ve thought about fucking her. I’ve thought about how her curves would feel under my palms, ample and soft, how her lips would taste, like cherries or cinnamon, how her body would feel pressed warm against mine, how safe and protected I would make her feel. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Halston.”
P.S. I Hate You Page 32