Hate to Love You, Page 21

  hunched. He didn’t say anything.

  I tried for a smile. “Uh, yeah. We’re not dating or anything.” Let the shame kick in, and I shared a look with Shay. He shook his head, the slightest of twitches, and I knew he was telling me not to worry about that.

  Linde was one of my first friends. I would.

  Linde pulled his gaze between us slowly. “You’re just fucking? Is that it?”

  Shay opened his mouth, but then Linde held his hands up. “Look. It’s none of my business. Though, if this joker hurts you, let me know. I’ll rough him up in practice one day. Maybe clip him extra hard so he has to miss a game.”

  Shay swore, though he was grinning.

  Linde was smiling back, but it seemed forced. That shadow still lingered in his eyes.

  He held a hand up in a goodbye, heading back to the sidewalk and toward the house where the others had gone.

  Shay waited until he’d gone farther up the driveway before pointing to my car. “Taking off?”

  I glanced around. Besides us, the entire street was empty. The houses were cookie-cutter types. Bright, green, and crisp lawns. No one’s porches had fading paint or chipped walls. The roofs were even shiny, like they’d just been built. Brightly potted flowers in the landscapes, and there was a fresh dew smell in the air.

  I murmured, “I can see why you run at this time. It’s peaceful.”

  “It’s a good start to the day. Coach depends on us doing this extra conditioning. We run drills and go over plays for practices. And lift weights. Lots of lifting weights.”

  He stood there, sweat darkening the front of his shirt, sweat glinted from his forehead, and he ran a hand through his hair, shaking out the excess sweat. With those high cheekbones, perfect and kissable lips, and his ice-blue eyes, I was reminded who stood in front of me. Shay Coleman, from the top tier of Dulane University. He was the top, how Gage described him.

  And I was sleeping with him.

  I laughed to myself. “I think I hated you from the first day because you were so smug.”

  “Okay. We’re going there.” He nodded, sighing. “I was smug?”

  “You know you were.”

  “I thought you were funny.” His lip twitched.

  “And cocky.”

  “Yes. That smirk of mine. I can smirk more, if you want. You must miss him.”

  I swatted him, my grin deepening, but I didn’t mean it. I leaned back against my car, and Shay stepped in, his hand resting by my shoulder. He was half-leaning over me, half just watching me with his head cocked back, like he wasn’t sure what was coming his way.

  “I’m trying to say that if I thought we would be here when you first walked into class, I would’ve laughed my ass off.”

  “Not your ass. I like your ass. It’s delectable.”

  I ignored his flirting. “I’m just being introspective. I started college with the plan of befriending one, maybe two people, and I was going to study. I was going places. There would be no boys, no gossiping, no cattiness. I wasn’t going to get involved in any drama, and fast-forward a few weeks, and I’m sleeping with the star quarterback, friends with a starting offensive lineman, and I came over last night because I left the hospital where a girl who I thought had it all, decided to report her rape.”

  The smirk disappeared, and his eyes grew serious. I felt the joking slip away, like sunlight chasing away the darkness. Slow, gradual, but inevitable.

  I let out a deep sigh. “I was standing up for Casey with Matt Carruthers, and I hid from it yesterday. I can’t hide anymore.”

  His hand moved closer to my shoulder. His thumb began rubbing there, back and forth in a comforting motion. “You mentioned the guys before. I still want to know who they are.”

  “I know you do.”

  He waited for me to continue. When I didn’t, he said, “You shouldn’t have to deal with them alone.”

  “You’d think, right?” I tried to smile, but I wasn’t feeling it. That heaviness returned, and it wasn’t on my shoulders anymore. It was pressing smack down on my chest. “Casey reported the rape. That’s a big step.”

  “You have any experience with that?”

  “What?”

  He lifted up a shoulder, his head bobbing toward it. “You know, being assaulted. Sexually.”

  I expected him to start tugging at his collar or shifting on his feet, but he didn’t. He asked the question, and he waited, holding out for me to give him the answer.

  A small thread of pride bloomed in my chest, pushing some of that pressure aside. “Not sexually, but the girls were not nice my senior year of high school. They came at me hard and brutal. I don’t know if you know this, but I kinda have issues with trust and emotions.”

  “No.” He pretended to be surprised, his mouth gaping open. “Really? I never would’ve guessed.”

  I laughed and swatted at him again, but this time, he caught my hand and held it against his chest, angling closer until his side touched mine. For a second, he gazed down into my eyes, and then he softly said, “I get the trust issues, but I like you despite them. I might even like you because of them.”

  My breath was caught in my throat. I tipped my head back, and he drew in, his lips were a hair’s width away. I murmured, “You like me? Like, like me, like me?”

  That smirk showed again, almost taunting me.

  I said, “You should watch it, Coleman. I think you might be moving too fast.”

  The ends of his mouth dipped down, and he eased back a step. “What?”

  “I mean, if we’re doing the feelings talk. That’s all I’m saying. It’s been four days.”

  “I said I liked you, not that I’m in love with you.” He moved even farther back, his jaw clenching. “Fuck’s sake, Clarke. I screwed you the last two nights and had a hard-on for the entire first night. You think I’d do all that for a chick I didn’t like? Like, not love, and no. I quite agree. This is not a ‘dating’ talk, how you keep throwing that word around.” Anger tightened his features, thinning his lips, and pulling his eyebrows together. “You might want to consider the thought that you’re the one who wants to date, not me. Maybe I’m a normal guy, not turning down sex?”

  I was gut-punched by that one. Air left my lungs, and I didn’t have anything to shoot back. Not at first, then a whole torrent bubbled up. I straightened from my car. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No, but I’m not going to take this bullshit, either. You can’t talk down to me, Clarke. I like you, as in the you who’s so goddamn feisty, the one who makes me laugh because it’s so obvious she has trust issues, the one who must’ve been crushed by some asshole so hard that she hides how fucking beautiful she is from everyone, even from herself. I don’t know who that guy is, or what he did to you, but I am not that guy. I can be a dick sometimes. I’ll admit that, but I’m not the guy you can walk over. It’s normal for me to say I might like you. That’s a normal thing to do.”

  My mind was amok. I had no idea what was up or down. “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing.” He held his hands up, surrendering, and backed away. “I’m not saying anything. We’re not dating. I guess we’re not even friends, but hey, if you want to get fucked so hard you see stars, I guess I’m the guy for that.” He shook his head, and turning, he left.

  I drove back to school, but it wasn’t until I parked and was walking up to my dorm that I realized I didn’t even remember the drive. I was physically there, but nothing else had left Shay’s street.

  I was still wondering what the hell just happened.

  When I went to my first class, then my next, then lunch, and finally my last before heading home, a weird déjà vu hit me.

  Everything was back to normal.

  No guys called out to me. It was like the Dick Crusher video hadn’t happened. Missy was back to being her condescending, yet passively friendly self. Holly and the cousin stopped by afterward before the three of them went to supper together. I had no phone calls. No Gage hiding out or send
ing my friends to find me or calling me. Even Sabrina, Shay’s gorgeous friend, was busy studying at the desk. She didn’t look up to say hello. No Linde. No Shay. No political science group meetings.

  The only difference was that there was also no Kristina, and that meant no Casey, Laura, or Sarah.

  I understood that part.

  They would’ve had an eventful night. If they were around, I had no doubt they were sleeping. Emotional hangovers were a thing, and after Missy and her crew left, I was alone. Like really alone, like pre-Shay alone.

  It felt glorious.

  Well, maybe not. I didn’t feel right about Shay, but I’d see him in a day. We could sort out whatever happened on his street. Till then, I studied to my heart’s content. I made trips to my dorm’s computer lab, and I even got naughty. I stole some of the computer’s printing papers, stuffing them down the front of my shirt. My inner dork was coming out full-force. It was like I’d been around “cool” people too much for my system. It was rebelling. It needed an outlet, and I indulged. All of the colored highlighters came out. Not just the primary colors, all of them. I used pink for one textbook, and added purple on the next.

  All caution was thrown to the wind. It was only eight, but I went to the library.

  I really let my freak out.

  An energy drink. Coffee from the cart. My own Twizzlers this time. Even a bag of chocolate candies. I was going nuts on the caffeine and sugar, and then I found an empty study room on the top and most isolated floor in the library.

  I stayed until midnight.

  It was some of the best studying I’ve had. Ever. Mind-blowing.

  I was caught up and refreshed for the midterms coming up.

  I was almost drooling as I headed back to the dorm.

  I was in a nerd high, not thinking about Shay and all the confusion in my life. The day made sense. Everything was back in order. I was studying and being prepared.

  I left the library and turned down a sidewalk that cut to my dorm.

  I didn’t know they were hiding in the same set of trees where Gage and I talked about Casey. Or that as I went past them, they looked to make sure no one else was around. It was Monday night, and it was when the library closed. Everyone left around ten, then more trickled out until eleven-thirty. Only the most determined or the most desperate stayed till actual closing time, and I was one of those. I was determined.

  So were they.

  They came up behind me.

  Two shadows fell on top of mine. The shadows were cast ahead of me since the biggest light was by the library behind us. I glanced down, a half second, and saw them.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood.

  Another half of a second.

  Something long and thick fell from one of the guy’s hands.

  Another half of a second.

  It was a bat.

  Another half of a second.

  Fear pooled in my gut, and they were lifting the bat.

  Another half of a second.

  They were going to attack me.

  I turned, a scream ripping from my depths, and the bat hit me clear across the face. It stopped the scream, paralyzed the inside me, and then one more half second. I was falling down.

  I looked, my face burning, and I saw the bottom of their shoes before everything went black.

  Three seconds.

  That was all it took.

  The smell woke me up.

  It was foul and metallic, but then the sounds were next. Like an ambulance’s siren. It was looping around and around, and it was so loud. It was becoming louder. I wanted to cover my ears. It hurt. I wanted the ambulance to go past me, but it never did. It kept coming. It kept getting louder and louder, shrieking incessantly, and then I heard the voices.

  A male and a female.

  I felt two fingers pressing into my wrist.

  That hurt, too. I wanted to tell them to stop, but I couldn’t.

  I wanted to wake up and move, but I couldn’t do anything. I was trapped.

  “BP is—”

  More beeps and alarms sounded. I couldn’t hear what the female was saying. The guy asked, “Pulse?”

  She said something again.

  I could open my eyes. I looked up—the ceiling was white. I shook. No, I was in a vehicle, and that shook. I couldn’t move. My neck felt like it was on fire, and it was constricted. My arms, hands, legs. I was strapped to a bed, a stretcher.

  I was in an ambulance.

  “Miss.” The female bent over me. “Miss, we called your family. Your brother is meeting us at the hospital.”

  But . . .

  I tried to speak. My mouth couldn’t move. What was going on?

  Then my eyelids were growing heavy again, really heavy, and I fell asleep wondering one thing: Why was I going to the hospital?

  A low and steady beeping woke me first.

  The pain really woke me next. I opened my eyes, and it was a different ceiling. This one was bare. There were silver creases. I followed one and saw some curtains hanging from it attached by wheels. This time I could open my mouth. I could turn my head. I wasn’t strapped down anymore, and I looked over, my entire body screaming for me not to move.

  I did anyway.

  Gage sat in the chair beside me, his head propped up by his hand. His chest rose and a deep breath came out. I didn’t say anything, not at first. My mouth hurt, but Gage didn’t look okay. He was pale, there were purple smudges under his eyes, and strained wrinkles around his mouth. Those showed whenever he was under stress.

  “You’re awake?”

  I looked the other way. Slowly. God, it hurt.

  A nurse approached the bed, a clipboard in hand, whispering, “There’s been quite some activity around here because of you.”

  I glanced again to see if Gage woke, but he hadn’t.

  The nurse touched the inside of my wrist, watching her clock.

  I asked, my voice so hoarse, “I’m in a hospital?”

  She nodded, counting under breath, “Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .” Once she finished, she wrote a number on her clipboard. “Yeah. Do you know what happened?”

  There was pain. Fog. An image of a silhouette, then something big by it.

  I winced as I tried to remember. “No.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  I nodded. “Yes.” Another croak from me.

  She reached for an IV and pressed some buttons on a little box hanging from it. “Your morphine must be low. I started another dose.” She reached for a black arm cuff. “I need to take your blood pressure. Are you okay with that?”

  I lifted my arm as much as I could, and she applied it. She pressed a button above me, and the cuff tightened until it felt as if it would cut off my whole arm.

  She murmured, watching the numbers, “What do you remember?”

  I told her as a machine beeped, and those numbers were written down, too. She stared at me a moment. I was waiting for her to fill in the gaps, to explain everything to me, but she didn’t.

  “Wh— Hey!”

  Gage woke, surging upright. His hand reached for me, and he