Hate to Love You

Casey’s gaze drifted to Linde and then back to me. A question formed there.

“Go,” I said it softly and reached out for Linde. I pushed him, the slightest of touches. “She’ll know we’re talking about her.”

The football team was completely gone. Linde was the last, and he was gaining more attention. I didn’t care about me this time, I was worried about how Casey would take it. She knew my brother knew, and she knew someone else knew, but it was starting to sound like the rumor was circulating among the guys. I didn’t know the protocol—if guys freely shared when one of their own assaulted someone or if it was even like that. But I knew it wasn’t normal for guys to come forward against one of their own, especially a football player. That was good. If I knew anything, I knew that much. If Casey did come out, she’d be believed.

Or I hoped she would.

Kristina and the others were almost to me, and when they started to show signs of slowing to talk, Casey spoke up, “Can you guys give us a minute?”

Kristina frowned, all of them did, but they kept on ahead.

She waited till they were far enough away not to overhear. “Is that the guy?”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“You said a guy knew, not your brother, but someone else.”

“Oh.” My mind was racing. What was the right play here? “No, he isn’t that guy.”

“Oh.” Air left her, and her shoulders relaxed.

“But he knows.”

Those shoulders tightened up. “What?” She visibly swallowed. I saw her throat moving.

“My brother knew. He called me. I called a different frie—someone else.”

“Had he heard?” Her eyes were so wide, so frightened. She seemed to shrink before me, looking like a frightened little girl.

Okay. I had to go with complete honesty. That was what I would want. Honest, but kind. “He hadn’t when I’d spoken to him.”

She closed her eyes, bracing herself.

“But he had by the time I saw him before class Friday morning.”

“What class?”

“My poli-sci class.”

Her eyes opened, and she was nodding, taking the information in. “And that guy just now, he knows?”

I answered her again, “He and some others on the team went to the coach. The guy who . . . did that to you wasn’t allowed to suit up today.”

“I know.” Her voice was so quiet. “I was so worried. I didn’t want to see him, but if I didn’t come to the game, the others would know something was wrong. I had to come.”

“I don’t know who the guy is. Did he come out on the field? Was he on the sidelines?”

She shook her head. “No. Thank God for that, right?” A tear formed in her eyes. She wiped at the corner of them with the back of her hands. “That was really nice of them to do that. That isn’t normal, is it?”

“If I were to guess, no.”

“Your brother’s been really nice.”

I frowned.

She explained further, “He told me he’s there for me, too. Or you. He said you’re all prickly on the outside, but that’s to keep others from hurting your soft gooey inside. You’re all bark, but no bite.”

“Negative. There’s bite. A lot of bite. I’m a rabid dog, actually.”

She laughed, wiping at her eyes again. “He said you’d say that but that I shouldn’t believe you. You might snarl at him, but not me, not if I’m hurting.”

I kicked at the ground. Why did I feel like crying?

“Um.” She started, but stopped. “I have to know. I mean, not a lot of people are giving me weird looks, but there are some.” Her eyes darted to a group of guys coming up behind us. They were loud, obnoxious, and drunk. She moved closer, lowering her head. “It’s mainly from guys. I’ve just been getting the normal bitchy looks from the girls.”

I hated being the sponsor-friend. I sucked at this stuff. “The guys know, but it seems like the girls don’t.”

She didn’t talk, not for a moment. Her eyes remained closed, and she sucked in her breath as the group of guys parted, going around us. I saw a few leer at us, their gazes raking Casey up and down.

I narrowed my eyes at one, and he stopped.

He spread his arms out. “What?” He was around five eight, not much taller than I was, but muscular in an athletic way.

He was the kind who gave the word ‘cocky’ a bad name.

Casey looked, but seemed to wither in front of me.

Not me. I raised my chin. This guy was going to try to intimidate me? I started toward him, knowing my eyes were cool. “You’re going to square off against me? Against a girl?”

His friends had stopped. A few started back.

One said, “Come on, man.” Another jumped beside him, as if he was going to help him out.

Oh, no.

I dealt with this shit in high school.

This was not going to happen to Casey. Or me. That rabid dog side of me was about to come out, and soon. Damned soon.

I turned my icy gaze at him, my top lip lifted in a sneer. “My, my. What a man you are. Because clearly, your buddy must need help against words.” I smiled, but it didn’t match what I was feeling. I was pissed. I was seeing red, and right at that moment, I saw a target for the asshole who hurt another girl. No. I saw two targets now. “Your friend must be really dumb.” I swung my gaze to Asshole One. “Are you dumb? Your friend thinks you are.”

Both bristled, puffing up their chests before sharing a confused look.

“See.” I pointed between them. “Look at that. You’re not even sure what happened here. A girl started your way, but you guys must only be used to being hit on, right?”

They shared another look, small grins starting on their faces.

“Because that must be the only reason a girl would come up to you. It isn’t like they’d find you disgusting or reprehensible or a small hick coward and then have the balls to tell you.” I whispered, leaning forward, “Do the girls you know not tell you the truth? Are they scared of you?” I raised my voice to normal levels again. “You can tell me. Do they only tell you if you were ‘good’?” I winked at Asshole One. “Or maybe you guys are only used to chicks if they’re in either two categories. If they’re ripping their clothes off for you, begging for it.” I glanced down at the front of his jeans, grimaced, and then looked back up. “Or they’re pissed because, well, you guys must’ve not satisfied them. Right? It’s either of those two? But no. Wait. It’s the girl’s fault. Right? It’s never your fault. It isn’t like you’d never ‘not perform.’ Right?”

Asshole Two shook his head, spreading his hands out. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Exactly.” Acid dripped from my voice. I clapped my hands together, holding them in front of me. “Here’s the thing. I’m insulting you. I am being sarcastic, and I’m mocking you guys to your face, and you don’t even know it. And as I’m doing it, you have no idea how to deal with me because I’m smiling and I’m talking like I’m going to bake you fucking cookies. The truth is that if I ever did that, I’d put rat poison in them.”

I finished, but with a bright cheery smile, and then I waited.

I didn’t wait long.

Asshole One charged me.

Casey screamed.

There were other shouts around me.

I didn’t pay attention to Asshole Two. He didn’t seem to have the abusive balls, but Asshole One did, and I grabbed ’em. Literally.

He ran for me, and I caught his dick in my hand. He jerked to a stop, a choke gurgling from him, and then I squeezed.

“AH!” He started screaming, trying to dislodge my hand.

“Holy fuck,” someone said behind us.

Fun time was over. I wasn’t nice anymore. I wasn’t being sarcastic any longer. I squeezed again, and his entire body shuddered under my hold.

I clipped out, “You’re going to fucking swing at me? You’re going to hit me? You’re going to shove me to the ground? What were you going to do? Huh?” My voice rose until I was outright yelling. 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">