I Hate You

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  My eyes move down, pulled by her sheer white shirt, the hint of a red lace bra underneath it.

  My shoulders straighten. City girl brought her A game, and if her intention is to make me squirm…

  I plop down in my seat, my hands getting out my notebook for class.

  I clear my throat. “Hey.”

  “Hey. Congrats on the Combine.” She gives me a hesitant smile. “I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks. Big deal. I’m stoked. You never texted me back.”

  She waves that off. “You’re gonna make it, Blaze. I always knew it.” She looks back at her desk. “I’ll be cheering you on when draft time comes. I’ll watch on TV.”

  “Thank you,” I say. Her words tug at me, loosening the tight feeling in my chest.

  We’re quiet again, the awkwardness building.

  “Lovely day for the end of January,” I say after a few minutes, just wanting to talk to her and not really knowing what to say. “Welcome to the South where the weather is mercurial, right?”

  She nods.

  “Did you know it’s snowing in Memphis? I’d give anything to see snow. Maybe that’s why I love Christmas movies so much. Have you seen Elf?” Shit, I know I’m rambling, but I can’t stop.

  She flicks her eyes at me, her gaze withdrawn, and I want that distance gone.

  I tap my pen. “Back to Elf: Buddy is this over-the-top adult-sized elf who wants to find his dad, but his dad is too wrapped up in his job—until Buddy shows him the real meaning of family. Kickass movie. Gives me warm fuzzies. And Zooey Deschanel as the love interest? Hot. You look like her, by the way, all that long hair and the way you laugh. You snort a lot. It’s cute. I’m sure you know.”

  She sighs.

  Come on, give my shit back to me, Charm.

  I rack my brain. “I want a pet now that I’ve met Vampire Bill. I’m thinking a soft furry cat. Kittens are a pain in the ass when they’re tiny, though, like little babies. I want babies someday, but not now. Maybe a dog? A big German Shepherd, one who’ll follow me around and sleep at the foot of my bed. We never had any real pets growing up except for mice in the barn. Maybe I can babysit Vampire Bill when you guys are out of town, you know, to get some practice in.”

  I tap my pen on my desk harder, faster. Do something, Dillon said.

  But I don’t know how. I’m not fucking emotionally equipped to do this.

  “Speaking of barns…sometimes I think about that toga party. You know, the one I mentioned before?” I arch my brows at her. It’s pointless since she isn’t looking. “You won’t admit it was you, but it was. That night, damn, we kissed and made out for hours. Your tongue in my mouth, mine in yours…”

  Thank God, Cartwright hasn’t come out yet.

  “I can only imagine how you must have felt when my spin of the bottle landed on you. Did you even think twice? Of course you knew who I was. Everyone did. I was the baller from Alma. Future star wide receiver. I remember looking across at you, and you had this come hither look on your face. I can handle you, hotshot, it said.”

  I chuckle, but there’s no mirth there. This is like talking to a wall.

  “You were…trashed. You had your hair braided in those plaits and a skirt on…damn.” My hands clench at the memory. “If you’d had your rules then—I don’t really know if you did since you didn’t follow them that night—you might never have kissed me up in that loft. But you did. Wholeheartedly. With your soul, you worshiped my mouth. You couldn’t get enough.” I pause, going for gold. “I looked for you around campus later—never told you that. Didn’t know your name, and all I had to go on was a dark-haired girl with a pouty mouth. I saw you once or twice as school went on, but you…you didn’t seem to recognize me.” I make a clicking noise with my tongue, tsking. “You ran away to those quiet guys…and I let you. Guess I keep doing that.”

  Her lashes flutter against her cheeks, her lips parting.

  In for a penny…

  “I knew damn well who you were from the get-go last fall, the girl who kissed me like I was air she had to breathe. Did you come from all that dry-humping in the loft? I did. I was too shy then to ask if you did. Sorry about that. Do you still think about that night? Because, babe, it was you.”

  Her chest swells as she turns to me, the golden glints in her eyes flashing. Lightning in a bottle. I want that. Jesus, I want to hold it in my hands, tame it, and write it on my heart.

  She opens her mouth to speak and—

  DING! Dr. Cartwright has entered the lecture hall.

  It was you that night and I’ve never forgotten it, I write furiously, my hand flying across the page. I show her.

  I glance over to see what she’s written. She isn’t trying to hide it.

  Fine. It was me. What do you want from me?

  What do I want? WHAT DO I WANT? I close my eyes. I want her. So damn bad.

  And I can’t stop it.

  Cartwright starts his lesson, but I don’t care; I’m wired, my legs jittery and bouncing, and I know I’m probably going to write some shit I’ll regret, but I do it anyway.

  I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m sorry I left yesterday.

  She looks up at the board again, her eyes wide.

  She bends down and writes.

  It doesn’t matter. You know what I did when you walked into class? I counted the girls who called out your name when you came in the door. FIVE. Go toy with them.

  I sit back and stew. Fine, fine. I bend over my paper and lay it out.

  Don’t want them. I think months of celibacy might have been a big fucking clue. Last night meant something and I want to see what it is, but if you don’t want me, just tell me. Tell me right now. Write it out nice and neat in that smart-girl handwriting you have, and I’ll tape it to my mirror so I can see it every day when I get up.

  My hands tremble as I show her the words, my chest tight. This is me, putting myself out there, the best I can. I don’t know how to go any further.

  She looks at Dr. Cartwright.

  I pick up my pen again and think about us in her bed, the way she felt like home…the way I know I was looking at her, everything there in my eyes. Doesn’t she know…

  I’m just a guy who doesn’t know how to do this. I want you. I wanted you freshman year. I wanted you last fall. I want you now, Charm. Let’s see what this is.

  I feel lightheaded. I’m insane, and I’m saying too much, I’m showing my cards and she’s—

  She gathers her book and backpack.

  “What are you doing?” I mutter as she stands up.

  “Leaving. I have somewhere else to be today.”

  Where?

  Dr. Cartwright has stopped lecturing, and several people turn to look at us.

  She gives me a final look, dips her head, and leaves the room.

  “Charm!” I call out, but she’s already shutting the door.

  Everyone looks at me, and Dr. Cartwright arches his brow with a what the fuck did you do look on his face.

  I sit there stunned for five seconds then jump up and follow her, leaving my stuff behind.

  I see her headed down the steps of the building and take off.

  “Wait!”

  She doesn’t, but I catch up to her. I grab her arm and pull her to a stop. I study her face, taking in the pucker between her brows. “What’s going on? Did I go too far?”

  She looks up at me. “Everything isn’t about you, Blaze.”

  “I know. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “After you left, I had a voice mail for an interview in Nashville for an internship. I need a job, even if it isn’t the one I want. I’m driving up today, and they’re going to take me to dinner tonight. I came to class to…” She bites her lip. “I came to see you. I don’t know why, but there it is. I’m staying the night and driving back early tomorrow. Missing classes, but mine are easy enough.”

  “Oh. I’m glad you got an interview.” I think about going with her, but the awards dinner is tonight, and I have pap
ers I still haven’t signed for the Combine. I go for it anyway. “Let me come. I can hang out in the hotel while you go to dinner. We can talk—”

  Her face is tight. “No. I need space from…this.”

  Space? After everything I just wrote?

  I feel winded. “I see.”

  “Good.” She turns to walk away, and I grab her elbow.

  “Charm, we need to figure us out. I want to,” I say, digging in, getting braver by the minute, even though it’s making me queasy, my stomach jumping.

  She takes her glasses off and rubs her eyes. “Can it wait until I get back? I need to go now.”

  “Sure,” I say coolly, my pride rearing up.

  I chased her out of class and I get “space”.

  “When?” I ask.

  She looks at me and her voice is toneless, blank. “Whenever. And it’s just talking.”

  My hands tap my legs. “Fine. My dorm. Eight o’clock. Three days from now. Is that enough time for you?”

  “Yes.”

  She turns and walks away, her shoulders hunched. Part of me is tempted to follow her, to just say fuck it and demand she take me with her, but responsibilities pull at me—and fear.

  I turn and walk back to class.

  20

  The sound of music meets my ears when I reach the door of The Purple Iris, a downtown bar near campus. The place has a stage for bands, a nice menu, and the clientele is a mix of townies and students. I sigh, not really wanting to go in.

  It’s been a long two days. First, I had the interview in Nashville, and it went well. Then, I came home today and ran around trying to catch up on the classes I missed with my migraine and going out of town.

  Laughter drifts through the air as people walk out the door.

  I don’t come here much, mostly because it has a rep as a date place—but that’s my purpose tonight: a blind date, one I set up two weeks ago. I wanted to cancel, and perhaps I should have, but I hate to disappoint Dr. A. Plus, I don’t know where Blaze and I stand. He walked out on me, and I can’t let it go. Penelope let it slip that he and Dillon were covered in jersey girls at Cadillac’s after he got his Combine invite, and that is fine. We aren’t together. He wants to talk tomorrow, but I know it will just be more of the same with him. One step forward and two steps back.

  My fingers toy with my tight black sweater—no mohair tonight—adjusting the neckline. On my legs are dark gray skinny jeans and three-inch ankle boots with fringe. My hair is straight and sleek, pulled back with two jeweled bobby pins on either side.

  The place is dimly lit and purple smoke swirls around the muted ceiling lights, giving the place a romantic vibe. I’m turned off already.

  A tall guy leans against the paneled wall in a small foyer, straightening when I walk in.

  “Charisma?” he asks, a broad grin on his clean-shaven face as he takes me in.

  I nod.

  Okay, okay. Not bad. With a headful of wavy sandy hair and hazel eyes, he’s handsome—better than any of the other dates Dr. Alfonsi has set me up with.

  Verdict is still out on this one, but as far as looks go, he’s handsome in a boy-next-door kind of way.

  He takes my small hand in his. “I’m Mike. Great to meet you. Dr. A talks about you all the time. You look nice.”

  He keeps his eyes above my chest. Point one for Mike.

  I mumble a thank you and return the compliment. He’s wearing slacks and a nice sports coat, and I do a double take. I’m used to laidback guys, but I get the feeling Med School Mike is all business. He’s also got broad shoulders that taper to a trim waist and a New York accent. Ma would faint, wake up, plan our wedding, and then start on the baby shower.

  This place is not fancy enough for a hostess, so we seat ourselves at a dark booth that’s back from the stage by a couple of rows. We’re surrounded by booths on either side, and near the front are several larger tables for groups. There’s a small area for dancing, but right now, there’s no band and…I look around. Dang, the place is rather empty. I wince but try not to feel bad about asking him to meet with the early-bird crowd. I want to get this over and done, checked off the list.

  The booth is a deep red and circular. He slides in next to me, his leg a respectable distance away, yet the heat of him is close. It feels weird.

  He smiles at me, his eyes direct, and perhaps…nice?

  “So, Boston? I hear you lost the internship you had.”

  Dr. Alfonsi is quite the talker, apparently.

  “Something will come up. If it doesn’t, I’ll be moving in with my parents.” I manage a smile, wanting to be upbeat and normal, but my stomach hurts.

  I wonder where Blaze is. Probably somewhere with “fans” all over him.

  “Charisma…you listening?” He laughs.

  I come back, realizing he was talking. What was he saying? Oh, yeah, our post-graduation plans. “Sorry. What about you? What’s next?”

  “NYU for med school.”

  “Nice. Congrats.”

  He flashes a sheepish smile at me, the dimples in his cheeks popping. “Thanks. Looking forward to living in New York again.”

  Yep. I can never tell Ma about Mike. She’ll be stalking his socials, inviting his parents to dinner…

  A waitress in a black dress comes over. I recognize her from one of my classes. “Drinks for y’all—”

  “A shot of tequila for me, please,” I say before she can finish, blushing at Mike’s grin.

  “Ready to party, I see,” he says.

  “No, just a long week. Really fucking long.”

  His eyebrow arches as he searches my face, and his lips tilt up in a slightly crooked smile. “It’s going to be like that, huh? Good.”

  I blink, not sure what he means.

  He looks at the waitress. “Bring us two shots each, please. Patron Silver—and keep them coming.”

  I laugh, feeling more at ease. “Someone else having a rough semester?”

  He lowers his face until it’s close to mine, and I smell his cologne, the scent of sandalwood. “My ex dumped me last semester, and I have a class with her. Sucks big time.”

  I burst out laughing. “STFU!” I lean into him and give his hand a quick squeeze. “Mike, I’ll be honest, I was worried you might be hard to connect with. No offense, it’s just Dr. A’s guys are never my type—but, dude, we’ve got this date down. My ‘sorta ex’ is also in one of my classes.”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t get away from mine. She’s driving me nuts in that class.”

  “Same.”

  “What the hell are we going to do?”

  “Drink,” I say when the waitress sets our glasses down.

  He lifts the first one up. “Fuck love.”

  I lift mine, murmuring an agreement, and we toss them back.

  Three shots plus a glass of wine later, I feel awesome, better than I have in two days. The place is getting busier, the booths filling up. And Mike? He’s nice. He’s fun. He has a nice laugh and hazel eyes with green glints that are pretty.

  “You ever get lonely?” he says with a lingering look.

  “What do you mean?”

  He toys with his shot glass. “Nothing. I mean, we’re both far from home, and it’s tough. This semester is the longest of my life. I just want to get away from here…”

  “From her?”

  He gives me that cute grin. “Yeah. I haven’t been with anyone since her—shit, I shouldn’t be telling you this. You’re my date.” He grimaces and looks down at the table.

  “It’s the liquor. And look, I’m not lining you up as my next boyfriend—even though Ma would love it—so say what you want. Tell me about her.”

  His eyes lift. “Damn. You’re cool.”

  I laugh.

  “And fucking gorgeous.”

  Oh.

  Well, then.

  I did mange to avoid carbs this week. There was that one cupcake, but no one’s perfect.

  I stare at the table. “Thanks.”

&nb
sp; He clears his throat. “Do you want to order something to eat? Soak up this alcohol?”

  “Sure.”

  We devour our burgers, and after they’re gone, there’s another glass of wine on the table. My body is loose and relaxed as the restaurant gets louder, co-eds and townies taking up seats until the place is packed. Mike’s arm is thrown across the back of the booth, his hand barely touching my shoulder. He loves model planes and likes to play chess—score. He’s currently taking tennis lessons, and I laugh when he tells me how terrible he is at sports. I tell him about my pathetic attempts at yoga. He chuckles.

  I watch him, taking in the square chin and dimples. He’s handsome with a dash of nerd boy. Old Charisma would be on her way to his place by now. She’d be in control, and when it was over, she’d drive back home and maybe call him again if she was interested.

  My mind wanders, thinking about Blaze, and I sneak a look at my phone to see if he’s texted me. He hasn’t. I haven’t texted him either.

  “You’re thinking about him?” Mike stares at me.

  I grimace. “Yeah.”

  His hand brushes over my shoulder and makes little circles there.

  “We can get out of here and forget them, put them out of our minds.” There’s a questioning look in his gaze. “If you want?”

  I suck in a breath. “Ah, uh, I…I don’t think…” I bite my lip.

  Mike is perfect—but his eyes aren’t ice blue, and his touch doesn’t make my skin go up in flames.

  “Hey, it’s all good. I just thought…well, you know what I thought.” He lets out a small laugh. “We seem to have a lot in common, and I let my head go there.” He shrugs.

  I laugh. “No, don’t apologize. It’s not you—”

  My eyes land on a group that just entered the booth area, a couple.

  Heaviness hits my chest and I suck in a breath.

  It’s him with a pretty girl. He’s got on jeans and a blue button-up shirt, and the sleeves are rolled up, his roped forearms taut and muscular. He looks hot, his hair styled back and gelled off his face as if he’s taken care with it.

  She’s tall and slender with shoulder-length reddish brown hair that brushes against her pale shoulders in a yellow dress. She’s got her hand on his arm, and she’s laughing up at something he’s saying. She slides into a booth near us, just one aisle over, a bit closer to the stage.