One Week Hating You

by Roya Carmen

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” he says. “He doesn’t look like the rugged type.”

  “How would you know?” I ask. “You’ve never even met him.”

  “I’ve seen pictures, and that’s all I need,” he says. “A picture paints a thousand words, right?”

  “Um…” I clear my throat. “You’re being a jerk again,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, you’re being a jerk,” Maddie parrots. “Uncle Peter is nice,” she says matter-of-factly. She brings a small finger to her mouth and mulls something over. “I guess he was sort of a jerk when he didn’t marry auntie Maeve. He left her waiting there on that fancy sofa, crying her eyes out—”

  “Okay, okay. Let’s not talk about that, okay?” I say.

  I venture a look up at Blake, expecting him to be smirking, but all I see on his face is pity and sorrow. The last thing I want is Blake Taylor pitying me.

  I polish off the rest of my burger. “Well, thanks. That was good,” I say, my words clipped. I rise and clear my plate. “The rain has died down. I’m going for a walk… I need some fresh air.”

  They all shoot me a funny look, probably wondering what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that I don’t want to talk about Peter, and I’m too tired to deal with Blake’s scrutiny.

  The rain has stopped, the air is cool, and it’s a gorgeous night. I enjoy watching the neighbors and peeking into their lives; some are by the fire, some are gathered around a picnic table, enjoying a feast. Children and dogs are running around. I like to study the different campers; some are huge and luxurious, others are tiny and old. Tents, tent trailers, campers. Rich and poor, everyone can enjoy Mother Nature’s work. Life can be unpredictable, but the seasons always come and go every year; blooms, and the melting of snow. Rain, sun, and the falling of leaves. Some say that autumn is a sad season because everything is dying, but I think it’s the most beautiful of the seasons.

  I venture into a short hiking trail. It’s nice to be on my own. Ever since Peter left me at the altar, I’ve been surrounded by people. Friends, family… and Blake. Some would say he’s both to me; a friend, and also family, but whenever I look at him, I only see the boy who broke my heart. I also see a man who makes me want things I shouldn’t want.

  I stare down at my white shoes, and anger fills me. I replay our conversation and everything Blake said about me. Is it true? Am I just a little prissy woman afraid of adventure? Afraid to get dirty? Is that why Peter left me at the altar? You’re not very adventurous were his exact words.

  I’m suddenly overtaken by the urge to prove them all wrong. I crouch down on the pine covered path and dig into the dirt. I grab a handful and spread it all over my shoes and faded jeans, rubbing hard. I do this for a good minute and it feels so good, it releases tension I didn’t even know I held. I stand again, satisfied. I feel lighter, and a little crazy.

  When I get back, Blake already has the fire going – it’s big and warm. He’s always been good at building fires, even as a gangly teenager. Peter probably couldn’t build a fire if his life depended on it.

  “We’re having s’mores,” Maddie tells me, although I had gathered as much – she’s holding a big tray with Graham crackers, chocolate, marshmallows, a box of milk, and plastic cups. “Why are you so dirty?”

  “Looks like we’re all set,” I cheer.

  Blake gazes down curiously at my pants and shoes, and cocks a brow. “How was your walk?”

  “It was nice. Got a little dirty.”

  “A little dirty?” He laughs. “Looks like you rolled around in the dirt.”

  I shrug. “Well, sort of. See, I’m not as prissy as I may seem.”

  He’s sticking marshmallows on the end of a long stick. “Sure.” He’s wearing a thick plaid button shirt over his white tee – it suits him. He scratches at his beard. “Open faced?”

  I smile. “Yes, please.” I’m impressed that he remembered. He seems to remember a lot of things about me. I guess I did mean something to him after all.

  “I’m doing the kids’ first, and then yours next.”

  There’s an empty green folding chair by the fire which I assume is mine. I settle my rear in slowly, and revel in the wonderful heat of the fire. I’ve missed this so much. I didn’t realize how much until now.

  My phone pings. It’s a text from Corrie.

  Am at the hospital with him. It was rough going, but the doctors say he will be ok. Thank god. He has a broken leg and broken ribs. Had a concussion and they were worried about swelling or something, but they say he is fine now. :) Talk to you later.

  A heavy weight lifts off my shoulders – this is the best news I’ve had in ages. I’m so happy for her. She bitches about Jacob all the time, goes on about how much she hates him, but we all know she loves him. I suppose it’s a little bit like Blake and I. I hate his guts sometimes, but I’d be completely heartbroken if anything ever happened to him.

  “Corrie’s husband will be okay,” I tell Blake.

  “That’s great,” he says as he hands Maddie her s’more. If her smile were any bigger, her face would split in two. Little Jake eyes her attentively as she slowly draws the melted chocolate treat to her mouth – the poor boy is practically salivating. I smile at the sight – my mouth is watering too.

  In no time, Jake gets his treat too, and so do I. Blake serves himself last and takes a seat on the largest chair, his long legs stretched out in opposite directions. He’s a large man and he owns it. I watch him as he takes a bite – there’s something sexy about it.

  I shake my head. Sex has been on my mind all day. Okay, not all day, but pretty much every time my eyes turned to Blake doing manly stuff; leveling the camper, chopping wood, putting up the hammock, pulling out the canopy, hanging the string lights. I even got a little turned on when he picked some flowers and made a little arrangement for the picnic table. Picking flowers from the park grounds is against the law – he’s such a law-breaking bad boy.

  I blame it on two weeks of celibacy. Two weeks! Being boyfriend-less sucks.

  But there’s always chocolate. I bite into the s’mores, and oh my goodness, it’s amazing. I’d forgotten how good these are. I close my eyes as I savour the taste in my mouth. I swallow slowly and lick my lips. When I open my eyes, I catch Blake staring at me – his eyes are dark and his lips are parted, just slightly.

  I jerk my gaze away, embarrassed… and aroused.

  Looks like I’m not the only one thinking about sex. My core warms at the thought of him thinking about me in that way. I wonder what he’s thinking about, what he’s doing to me in his mind.

  “Tell us another ghost story, uncle Blake,” Jake pleads. It’s hard to say no to Jake when he gives you that adorable look.

  Blake smiles and pulls his gaze away from me. “Okay… let me think…”

  * * *

  The sun has already set and we’ve been sitting by the fire for over two hours. It’s time for the kiddoes to go to bed. Blake and I work together to make sure they do a tick check and brush their teeth. They’re comfy in their pajamas, and tucked into one of the pop-out tent beds. They love sleeping together, and they only get to do so when they’re camping so they’re pretty excited.

  “Okay, right to sleep,” I say as I tuck them in. “No chatting, okay?”

  “Okay, auntie Maeve,” Jake says – he’s so damn sweet.

  Blake shuffles his way in rudely and takes over. He turns on the mattress heater, tucks them in and kisses them both on the cheek – it’s very sweet. He can be a jerk, but he has his moments.

  “So, um… I think I’m just going to go to bed and read my book,” I tell him, reaching into the cabinet under my bed for my pajamas. I’ve brought a thick onesie sleeper, super warm, and totally not sexy. The book I’m reading is kind of a bore, but it beats sitting awkwardly at the campfire with Blake.

  “Really?” he says. “Doesn’t surprise me. I bet you go to bed every night at nine-thirty, after you brush your teeth, floss, wash your face, put on your face cream, and
stick in your retainer, of course.”

  God… he infuriates me so much. I hate that he knows me so well – he’s pegged me perfectly. Everyone knows I’ve worn adult braces – my smile has completely changed. I had too many teeth for the size of my mouth; I had lots of crowding and two or three teeth stuck out at odd angles. I’ve always been really self-conscious about it, but we could never afford braces. It wasn’t a consideration until I met Peter, when he suggested I get braces, and offered to help me pay for them. I don’t regret it – I have a perfect smile now.

  “Actually, it’s usually ten-thirty. Must be the fresh air wearing me out.” I smirk. “Or maybe it’s just me trying desperately to get away from my present company.”

  He slaps a hand against his heart. “Touché.”

  “Stop acting like you know me so well,” I scoff.

  “But I do.”

  I shrug, aggravated beyond words. “On second thought, I think I’ll have a beer and go sit by the fire.”

  He smiles playfully, and I want to slap that grin right off his face. “You drink beer?” he asks.

  “I do.” I actually don’t – I don’t know what I’m trying to prove. Maybe I’m just trying to show him that he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does.

  I grab a beer from the refrigerator, trudge outside in a huff, pad over to the fire, and slap my rear into my folding chair. The fire is almost dead, and I throw in a log. I shake it up with a stick, willing it to grow strong and warm me – it’s freezing out here.

  “Wait, let me,” he says. He positions the logs and sticks just so, and next thing you know, large hot flames reach into the dark sky. Such a show-off.

  He takes a seat next to me. “Sorry, I can’t help it,” he says. “I like teasing you. Always have.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t know why…” he goes on. “I’m not like this with other women… just you.”

  I smile. “Lucky me.”

  I take a sip of my beer – it’s disgusting. I’ll need to inconspicuously drain it on the ground without him noticing.

  “I think it’s because you’re so prissy, Freckles. You always have been. You walk around thinking you’re better than everyone else—”

  “I don’t,” I argue. “I don’t think I’m better than everyone else.” Why would he even say that? Is that how he sees me?

  He shrugs and pokes the fire. “You say that but… you’re too good for this town, right?”

  “I’m not…”

  “Probably why you moved away.”

  My body tenses and my heart gets away from me. How dare he? He knows more than anyone why I moved away – he was there.

  “Uh… don’t you think it had more to do with you breaking my heart, and what happened…” my words trail off. It’s the last thing I want to talk about.

  “You’ve changed,” he says.

  “Really, how?” I ask, curious. I want to know how he sees me. I don’t know why I care, but I do. A lot.

  “The way you dress, first off,” he says as his gaze darts over me. “I mean… not right now, but… The heels and frilly skirts and blouses, the big fancy earrings.”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “Uh… I-I…” he flounders and closes his eyes. “I do.”

  I smile.

  “It’s kind of sexy,” he says quietly, and it hits my core, sending a rush of heat right through me – he’s still obviously attracted to me.

  I rake a hand through my long smooth hair. “What about the hair?”

  He shoots me a look. “That’s probably a lot of work, I imagine.”

  I laugh. “It is, but I think it’s worth it.”

  “I remember when you used to wear it wild and free, like Marilyn does,” he says. “It was just as gorgeous back then. You should be proud of your roots, you shouldn’t pretend to be someone you’re not.”

  I want to throttle him.

  “Easy to say, Mr. Perfect. Perfect hair, perfect body, perfect smile.”

  He laughs. “Why did you fix your teeth?” he asks. “I loved your smile just the way it was. It made you real.”

  “I’m still real.”

  “Was it Parker? Did he talk you into it? Couldn’t stand the fact that you weren’t perfect.”

  I draw in a long breath before I say something I’ll regret. “Leave Peter out of it… you’re just jealous because my life is fabulous now.”

  “Fabulous?” he smiles. “Really? Then why are you here with me?”

  I’m at a complete loss for words.

  “Thank god you didn’t bleach your freckles, because I’m not sure I could handle that,” he jokes. “I would miss them too much.”

  I can’t help but smile.

  He turns to me. “You’re still beautiful,” he says quietly, “but you were just as pretty back then.”

  Then why did you treat me the way you did, I want to ask.

  He clears his throat. “And that outfit, last night...”

  I smile, remembering how sexy I felt in that rocker chick shirt, leather mini skirt, and slutty heels. “Did you like it?”

  “Hell, yeah,” he says. “But it so wasn’t you. I think I prefer you in those frilly skirts.” He winks.

  His wink catches me off guard – it always does. I can’t believe he’s flirting with me. “Well, you know all about the plan, right?”

  He grins. “Yeah, it sounds kind of juvenile. What are you? In junior high?”

  He does have a point. “It was Corrie’s doing. She gets off on the drama, I think.”

  “So, how’s it working?”

  “Good, I think. He emailed me, saying I looked great and that he wanted to start afresh,” I tell him, “but I haven’t emailed him back yet.”

  A flicker of disappointment crosses his features, but it’s so quick, I’m not sure if I’m imagining it. “Well, way to make him sweat. Go girl!”

  “Yeah, he’s sweating all right. As he should, the jerk.”

  He smiles. “So you think he’s a jerk?”

  “Duh… he left me at the altar.”

  “So why are you playing games?” he asks, confused. “Why not just say, ‘Fuck him!’ and let him be? Do you want him back?”

  “Well… it’s hard to explain,” I say. “We’ve been together for seven years, and he’s everything I’ve ever wanted—”

  “Really?” he scoffs. “He’s everything you ever wanted? He doesn’t show up to his own wedding, doesn’t come through on his responsibilities, but he’s everything you ever wanted?”

  I exhale a long breath – I don’t have time for these shenanigans. I drain my beer into the fire. “Uh… and on that note, I think I’ll be calling it a night.”

  He shrugs and presses a hand on my thigh. “Wait…”

  12

  I FREEZE AT THE RUSTLING sound coming from the forest behind us. My heart hammers and my mouth goes dry. It’s been a while since I’ve heard animals venturing through the woods at night, but I remember the distinct difference between the noises small critters like squirrels, racoons and skunks make, and those of the larger animals.

  Blake is staring up at me with wide eyes. He motions me over to him. I was trying to get away from him just a second ago, but now it’s a whole different story – my life is at stake. I don’t hesitate for a second before lunging myself at him and into the safety of his arms. I’m not sure how efficiently he could protect me from a black bear, but he’s more experienced than I am when it comes to this stuff. I’m sure he knows what to do.

  I’m sitting on his lap, which is the last place I thought I’d find myself. He smells like tree sap and Irish Spring. My heart is still hammering and I’m breathless. “You… you think… it might be a bear?” I whisper.

  “I’m not sure…” He grabs the flashlight next to his feet, and lights up the bushes behind us.

  Although it’s quite dark, I can see him. He’s beautiful – I’ve seen a few bucks in my day, but he seems more majestic than most. He’s just as spook
ed as we are and does a quick turnabout, back into the forest.

  My pulse is still racing when I turn to Blake, whose face is mere inches from mine, so close, I can smell the beer on his breath. “Wow,” I say.

  His gaze fixes mine. “Wow,” he echoes.

  “Do you see them often?” I ask.

  His voice is soft when he says, “It’s the start of mating season. He’s probably out looking for a mate.”

  I’m drawn in closer to him, a force beyond my control. I study his face closely; his beautiful dark eyes, the curve of his full lips, slightly parted, and his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “Lucky lady,” I say.

  He smiles. “Nice to see that some of us are getting some action.”

  My knees feel loose and my whole body is hot, despite the cool October night air. “Is that what you’re looking for?” I ask quietly, staring at his mouth. “Action?”

  “It wasn’t…” he says, and lets that thought hang into the charged air between us.

  My heart won’t stop pounding and I feel a little light-headed. I can’t remember the last time I felt this…

  Desire.

  His gaze hasn’t left mine, and when he reaches a hand to my cheek, his eyes soften. “God, you’re still so beautiful.”

  He’s going to kiss me. I want him to kiss me.

  He reaches for the curl by my right cheek, the one I hate. No matter how much care and effort I put into straightening my hair, there’s this rogue strand which refuses to behave; a rebel curl. He slides the strand gently between his fingers. “You still have this. I love it.”

  I erase the distance between us, and slowly press my mouth to his. I close my eyes as the soft touch of his lips fills me with want.

  I reach for his face, but he grabs my hands and pushes me away abruptly.

  I’m shocked. He clearly wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss him. I don’t understand. It takes a few seconds for the sting to hit me, for my ego to be bruised. What the heck is his problem?

  I’m still sitting on him, and I slowly stand, not quite able to look at him. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I thought…” I can’t quite finish my sentence. What did I think? That we would kiss, and the past and everything we’ve gone through would be erased, just like that.