Hate to Love You
Page 18I stood and actually shrugged it off.
I wasn’t going to be filled with remorse, and I wasn’t going to feel cheap and dirty. It was kissing. It was healthy, just like I said to Missy. That was healthy, too.
Thirty minutes later, I was dressed for bed and feeling a little better.
My teeth were brushed. Face was washed. I thought about a shower, but I decided to wait till morning. I could feel him still on me through the night, and so what if it was Shay. I hadn’t made out with a guy in a while. It actually felt nice, if I just forgot who it was.
I was on my computer when a key fitted into the lock. The door swung open. My roommate came in.
I didn’t look over. She could make her belittling comments. I wouldn’t care. Gage sent me a second email, asking if I’d go to the football game with him. Why he didn’t just text, I had no idea, then the smell of booze tickled my nose. I looked over. She was at her closet, swaying back and forth, and she had pulled her shirt off.
She was alone.
The door was still open, so I shut it and was returning to my desk when I braked. There was a backpack resting on the other side of my desk chair. It wasn’t mine. It wasn’t Missy’s. I was pretty sure it wasn’t Holly’s or the cousin’s.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.
“Huh?” she barked, her head swinging around to me.
A quick glance confirmed what I already knew. She was drunk.
“Nothing.”
She pulled out one of her shirts, but it wasn’t her normal pajama top. She was really drunk. I picked up Shay’s bag and checked the contents to make sure it was his. It was. I saw his planner with his name scrawled at the top, so I zipped that bag and put it in the back of my closet. No one needed to go through it. I didn’t think Missy would, but I just never knew.
Dropping into my chair, I picked up my phone to text Shay as Missy fell to the floor. I looked up to watch. I couldn’t not see this.
I was tempted to video it, but I was being nice. For once.
As Missy wrestled with her jeans and lifted them over her head to throw into her closet, I texted Shay.
Me: You left your bag here.
Missy let out a half-gurgled moan and a cry of frustration at the same time. She didn’t stand, instead crawling to the closet. She grabbed another pair of pants.
Those weren’t her pajamas, either.
As she pulled them on—or tried since her feet kept eluding the pants’ hole—my phone buzzed back.
Coleman: Can I pick it up in the morning?
Me: When?
Missy got one leg in. Success. I wanted to thrust my fist in the air for her.
My phone buzzed again.
Coleman: Early. My playbook is in there.
I groaned.
Me: When is early? I’m in college, Coleman. Sleeping in is mandatory.
Coleman: Nine too early for you? I can come back to get it now.
Nine was doable.
Me: Let’s do an exchange. You bring me coffee, and I’ll meet you at the parking lot curb with your bag.
Coleman: Done. Decaf okay?
I glared at my phone.
Me: Back to hating you.
Coleman: Never stop that. The world’s equilibrium will be fucked up. I have to know what’s right and wrong. Don’t screw with my moral compass, Cute Ass.
Oh, no! No way.
Me: Third rule of what we don’t talk about. No nicknames unless they reconfirm our mutual dislike for each other. No Cute Ass.
His response was immediate.
Coleman: Cunt Ass?
A second squeak from me.
Me: NO!
I could almost hear him laughing.
The tension left my shoulders.
Me: See you in the morning. 9 sharp.
Coleman: Night.
I put my phone down, but then it buzzed once again.
Coleman: Ass.
I was struggling to wipe this stupid grin off my face. All was right again. I plugged my phone in, pulled my laptop back toward me, and sent a response to Gage’s email. I’ll sit with you, but only if we’re in the opposing team’s section.
He’d be pissed, but that was the only way. I turned the computer off, and by then Missy was climbing up the ladder in a bright pink silk shirt. The buttons were left buttoned, and her pajama bottoms were a pair of corduroy khakis. I was pretty sure she didn’t brush her teeth, but before my head even hit the pillow, she was snoring.
My alarm went off at eight-thirty.
I slept, but the dreams had been filled with kisses, heavy breathing, touching in places all over the body, and a general feeling of being aroused. The whole night.
I was exhausted, but I pulled myself out of bed.
Checking my phone, I knew that Shay would be on time, so I picked up my pace. Dressing, washing, the whole get-go seemed to take longer than normal for some reason. I pulled on jeans, sandals, and a baggy shirt. I didn’t need to proclaim any hotness level here.
I wasn’t trying to be attractive for Shay Coleman.
Still. I paused after I grabbed my keys, phone, and his bag. I reached for some lip-gloss because my lips looked chapped.
Looked. Didn’t feel it, but it never hurt to be proactive.
I was on the curb, his bag next to me, and waiting for five minutes before his black Jeep Wrangler pulled up. He parked in a slot behind me.
I picked up his bag and crossed over the sidewalk and smallest amount of grass. He turned the engine off but didn’t move to get out. I walked to his side and lifted his bag. He pulled the bag through his open window, but he nodded to his passenger side. “Want to get in for a second? I got your coffee.”
Surprised, I shrugged and went around.
No one would see. If they were walking home, they’d be hungover. No one would pay attention to one Jeep Wrangler in the parking lot.
I opened the door and climbed in.
Shay picked up my coffee, his own in his hand. “Here,” he murmured, his voice drowsy.
His head was resting against his seat, but he opened one eye and didn’t look too happy. “I had the biggest hard-on all night. The fucker wouldn’t go away, even after I did its business. Thanks for that.”
“Aw!” I smacked his arm. “No talking about it. That’s the first rule.”
He grumbled but said, “You’re all sorts of messed up. You know that, right?”
I shrugged. It wasn’t an insult if it was true. “I have reason. This makes my life easier.”
He shook his head, sipping some of his coffee. “You going to my game today?” That smirk came back, an extra layer of cockiness added to it. “I am the star quarterback, you know.”
Football. Good. I relaxed. We could talk about that. “I hate football.”
“Oh, my— Are you serious?” he burst out.
“What? I do.”
His eyes narrowed. “You never answered.” He continued to stare at me, long and hard, then his lips lifted again. “That means you’re going, doesn’t it?”
No answer from me.
He laughed, going back to sipping his coffee. “I’m starting to be able to read you.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That isn’t good.”
“Who are you going with?”
“This guy I made out with last night.”
“I’m playing.”
“Who said it was you?” I couldn’t help myself.
“You made out with someone before me last night?” He pretended to scowl, but his lip twitched in a half-grin. “And you broke the rule again.”
No talking about it. Fuck. I gave in, saying, “I’m going with my brother.”
“Yeah?” Interest sparked in his gaze. “What happened to your rule about being seen in public with a guy? Or does he not count because he’s your brother?”
I snorted. “No way. He’s included in that. He’s the main reason I have the rule. Do you know what girls are like when they find out I’m related to Blake or Gage Clarke?” A shiver went down my spine. “They’re either too nice or they’re not nice at all. All the girls Gage sleeps with and discards? Guess who they’re a bitch to?” I stopped a second shiver. “I’m going, but we’re sitting in the other team’s stands.” 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">