Hate to Love You

He lounged against one of the two pillars by the stairs. “Is your friend okay after last night?”

I nodded, sitting down on one of the steps. I gathered my bag on my lap, hugging it to me. “Yeah. She knows I’m there for her. That’s all I can do.”

“She say who raped her?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t ask. If she wants to tell me, I think she will.”

“Was she raped at a party?”

I looked up. There was a reason he was asking. “You heard?”

“Was it Sunday night’s party?”

He did know. “You heard.”

His jaw clenched. “Yeah. I heard. That shit pisses me off.”

“Me, too.”

“Look.” He sat next to me, turning his head my way. “I heard the rumor. I know who did it. I know who it was done to. I just needed to know if the girl from Sunday’s party was your friend or not.”

I frowned. “What are you hearing?”

He paused a second, like he was deciding if he should tell me or not. His jaw clenched once more. “You heard it was a football player?”

I nodded. My stomach twisted in a knot.

He said, “I know the guy. Casey Winchem. That’s your friend, isn’t it?”

He knew the guy. Of course, he would know him. He was on his team.

I said faintly, “Yeah. She’s my friend.”

He swore, turning away. “He has a type. Long legs. Brown hair. Dark eyes. He likes pretty faces.” He glanced back, his eyes lidded. “You fit that type.”

Wha—

“Are you saying . . .” No. What was he saying?

“If you’d gone to that party, it could’ve been you.”

Gage’s phone call made so much more sense. He’d been worried about me. My friend. Similar type.

It could’ve been me.

Shay’s words echoed in my head. I felt the first slice of fear. I’d never been legit scared of men before. There were other feelings about guys. How I hated them at times, how they were annoying, how they wanted to screw me, or use me… But I’d never been scared like this. This was . . . I wanted to bury my head on my lap. This was new. This was alien. This was not what I wanted to feel.

“Oh.”

He frowned at me. “Oh?”

I swallowed a knot. It could’ve been me. “I never thought of that. She asked me to go to a party Friday night.” I might’ve gone. If I had, maybe I would’ve had fun. I might’ve gone a second time. I might’ve gone instead of going to his house and studying. “We were at your place that night.”

“I know.” He cursed again before standing. He pulled out his phone to check the time. “We gotta go. Look, this could be a problem for the team. Is she going to report it?”

“Why?”

Did he want her not to? Did he want me to encourage her to stay silent? I was getting pissed just thinking about that. It was a violation of her body, and he was going to suggest—

“She should. This asshole’s done this to other girls. He needs to get locked up.”

Oh. My whole argument deflated.

“You want her to report it?”

“Fuck yeah.” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You thought I wouldn’t want that to happen?”

I used his words. “This could be a problem for the team.”

He rolled his eyes, cringing at the same time. “Bad choice of words. Yes, I want her to report it. This school handles sexual assaults in a good way. They take it seriously and the girl’s not blamed. They have policies about it. Every now and then, we hear about a rape and the team gets a whole lecture, in case one of the guys decides to do something stupid. It’s a whole preventative strategy, or that’s what Coach told me one time.

From what I heard, he drugged her, took her to his bedroom, and raped her. She tried to get away, but the fucker had her so doped up that she could barely lift her arms. Her friends thought she hooked up with someone and stayed, too.”

I gazed down at the cement. I hadn’t asked Casey for details because a part of me didn’t want to know.

I wished I didn’t.

She couldn’t fight him. She couldn’t lift her arms.

He cursed. “I thought you knew.”

I shook my head. “I just knew it happened, not the details.”

He raised his hand and then held it in the air. He didn’t know what to do with it. He finally patted my knee. “I’m sorry, Clarke.”

My last name felt right. That put space between us again. I could muster my composure again.

I nodded a couple of times, wiping my palm over my eyes. “I’m fine.” Class was probably starting. “Go to class.”

He didn’t leave. He stayed. “Are you coming?”

I shook my head. “No.” My heart hurt too much.

“I’ll take notes for you. I’ll stop by your place later.”

I wanted to laugh. The girls in my hallway would mess their pants, but I didn’t. He touched my shoulder once more before going past me and entering the building. I was thankful this entrance was never used. Emotions I didn’t understand and didn’t want held me sitting on that step long after Shay was gone.

I stayed and imagined not being able to lift my arms.

I was in my room that night when Shay called me. Grateful for Missy’s absence, like always, I answered and leaned back in my chair. “What’s up, Coleman?”

He paused a beat before laughing under his breath. “Coleman. Okay. I get it. We’re like chill buddies? Is that it?”

Was there a better description for us? I shrugged to myself. “We kinda hate each other but still seek each other out. I figured it’s time to move on from calling you ‘That Guy I Hate’ in my head to a name. Last names seem fitting. You can keep calling me Clarke.”

“I never know what I’m going to get with you.”

I was purposefully keeping it light. I wasn’t ready to dive into the deep waters we had been in when I saw him this morning.

Light and surface. That’s what I wanted at that moment.

“Guess that’s my charm. I’m not like all those other girls whose panties go up in flames when you walk into a room.”

I saw a chain email from Gage, and instantly hit reply. “Stop sending me these stupid things.”

“What?”

Shay was mocking me. I could literally hear the smile in his voice. I breathed a little easier, grateful he was following my lead.

He said, “You mean that burning aroma I smell isn’t your thong? And here I was getting cocky when it came to you.”

“First, ew.” Burning smell? “That’s disgusting. If anything, it’d be me having to smoke a cigarette before seeing you. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you’re a little stressful to deal with.”

He barked out a laugh. “That’s called charisma and primal animal sexiness. It oozes out, and you are affected. You’re just so messed up you don’t even know what it is. Your body is stressed from fighting itself so you don’t lunge at me. I know what’s good, Clarke.” He dropped his tone. “And it’s definitely me.”

Insert eye roll.

“And two,” I kept on as if he hadn’t spoken, “we hate each other. Remember? Let’s cut to the chase of why you called so we can resume the vow of silence we’ve taken around each other.”

“Holy fuck, woman. Vow of silence? What are you, a nun?”

“Why’d you call?”

I wasn’t starting to enjoy this call. There was no point. This guy wasn’t funny. He wasn’t sexy—his words, not mine—and there was no thawing at my hatred wall for him. Nope. No thawing at all. My body was warming because I had a sweater on, and in this weather, was that really needed?

I think not.

“I’ve got those notes for you.”

Everything went on high alert. I bolted upright. Red alarms were blaring in my eardrums. “Okay.”

“I’m downstairs.”

“What?” A myriad of curses spewed from me before I realized I was even cursing. I shoved back the chair to stand. “Why are you here? I have a rule!” ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">