Hate to Love You

I didn’t need to be reminded about that, either.

Casey was Kristina’s roommate, and the other two were friends from Kristina’s school. Where Kristina was more reserved, she didn’t drink (that much) and had a steady boyfriend—the others were not. Casey was another “it” girl. And she was single. After the first day of orientation, she had guys calling at all hours of the day. She, Laura, and Sarah divided their time between their own dorm and the guys’.

We had a no-boys-sleeping-over policy in our dorm, but Sarah and Laura had already broken that four times that I knew of. Casey stayed with them those nights. And I only knew of those four times because I’d been watching a movie with Kristina when Casey came in for booze reinforcements. She always smiled and offered an invite to party with them, but I was too chicken shit to risk being caught.

We hadn’t even gotten to homecoming yet.

The four formed a clique, and while I wasn’t really in the clique, I hung out with them on occasion. I was Kristina’s friend, but she was the type who was friendly with everyone. If this had been high school, I would’ve given up because Kristina would’ve had thirty other friends. I was lucky. I got her the first week of college when she didn’t have umpteen friends already. Besides the other three, I knew Kristina considered me one of her closest gal pals at college.

I needed it. I needed her. My other option was my stuffy roommate and her friends.

I frowned. Maybe I was the problem?

Nah.

I shook my head and moved forward with the line. That couldn’t be the case. I oozed warmth. I drew people to me like sap to bears. Come and eat me, animals.

My lip twitched.

Even my own jokes were pathetic.

“Wait a minute.” Kristina had been watching me. Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to tell them, are you?”

I glanced back, the same incredulous look on my face that she’d given me when Shay first walked away. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no way I’m telling them.”

They’d want his number. They’d want me to call him. They’d want me to talk to him.

They’d want to use me. This was not going to be high school all over again.

I had rules: no hot boys and no drama. This was a new year, new school, and a new me.

I was going to study my ass off and not get swept up in everything extracurricular.

I clipped my head side to side. “I’m not using his number, and he’s right. I’m not answering if he calls.” That made me look like a brat, but I had alarms going off. Big, huge, red alarms and there’s a reason I instantly didn’t like Shay. I was listening to those alarms. The last time I hadn’t, well, it hadn’t been pretty. It’d been a disaster.

“How are you going to get in contact about meeting for your project?”

“Linde.” I’d already formed my plan as I was walking out of the classroom.

“Who’s Linde?”

“Raymond Linde. He’s an offensive lineman.” Thank you to my brother for that random fact. “And he’s also in the group. We’re pals.” He nodded at me. Same thing. “I’ll train Shay so that if he wants to talk to me, he’ll have to go through Linde to do it.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped behind me as we entered the cafeteria. “Shay Coleman doesn’t strike me as the type to be trained. He’s the type who would do the training.”

I handed my card to the clerk, and as it was swiped, I said to Kristina, “Well”—I took my card back—“he’s never met me before.”

Then I stepped forward.

My stomach growled at the first smell of that ice cream bar, and I headed right for it.

My priorities were in place.

I had to see Shay twice more during the week since our classes fell on a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule, but both of us escaped alive. We weren’t forced into group discussions, and the one time we had to pair up with someone, Linde signaled for me right away.

See, we were friends.

It was around three that Friday afternoon when I was heading back to my dorm. I was passing along behind the art building, going down the sidewalk where it curved to the right and would pass through a bunch of trees, and then into my dorm. The whole campus was set up like that. There were trees everywhere. They hid most of the buildings, so you constantly felt like you were walking in a forest until your sidewalk dipped into whatever building was your stop.

I was six feet from my clearing when I heard my name being called.

I tensed, but no. That wasn’t Shay. That wasn’t his voice, and an instant scowl formed because I did recognize that voice.

My brother was standing behind some trees, waving at me.

I hurried my pace. “Gage. What are you doing here?” I pushed him deeper into the trees and looked over my shoulder. The walkway was clear. My shoulders sagged in relief. I gave his chest a good whack. “First rule of Clarke Club. We don’t know each other.”

He rolled his eyes, running a hand through dark brown hair, which was the same shade as mine. We had the same dark eyes, too. He was a year older, but people thought we were fraternal twins. Gage liked to joke he was the smart one, and I was the dumb one who got held back a year. I smacked him in the back of the head whenever he said that, and I was considering doing the same thing here. He knew not to come to my dorm. I’d been adamant about that.

Being used in high school was out of my control. I did ask my mom when I was in eighth grade if I could switch my high school, but the only other one within driving distance was a private one, which got a big, firm nope. Her lips popped saying that word. We didn’t have the money for even a semester, much less the uniforms and all the other expenses that would’ve come with it.

But I had control now, and the first rule of being Gage and Kennedy Clarke: we pretended we didn’t know each other.

It was a subset of rule number two: no drama.

Clarke wasn’t a common name? What? I had no idea. It was just a huge coincidence.

That was my planned argument if anyone tried to press the matter.

“Ow.” He rubbed his chest, giving me a pained puppy-dog look. “Why do you always have to hit me? Contrary to what chicks think, guys don’t appreciate it. Our instincts are to hit back, and we always have to curb those primal instincts.”

He flexed as he said primal.

I rolled my eyes.

“Make it quick.” Someone was bound to come down the sidewalk. “What do you want?”

His hand dropped down. He was all business now. “I’m going to a fraternity party tonight.”

“Okay?”

“I heard some girls from your dorm are going, too.”

I narrowed my eyes. Two other subsets of rule two were that he couldn’t admit to knowing me, much less being related to me, and he couldn’t sleep with any of my friends. That’d been awkward in high school, and it was still awkward in college.

“Okay?” I asked again.

“They’re the chicks who you’ve been hanging out with. You know”—he tugged on his shirtsleeve—“the slutty ones.”

“Oh!” Laura, Casey, and Sarah. “Yeah. You can’t sleep with them.”

“Come on.” His tone turned pleading. “That Casey girl is hot.” He groaned the last word. “Seriously hot. What if she hits on me? Huh? I’d hurt her feelings. She might turn around and become a clinger? You know, those kind that if they’re rejected, they become instantly besotted.” He shook his head, whistling in sympathy. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“Casey can have any guy she wants. I’ll risk the odds it’ll be you whom she falls in love with.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about? Chances are high. If you haven’t noticed, we’re good-looking. Both of us.”

I groaned. “Stop talking.”

“I’m a catch. I don’t make girls do the walk of shame. I give them a ride home.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He added, glancing away, “Or call a car for them.” His eyes flashed at me. “See. Thoughtful. That’s me.” His hands formed fists and his thumbs pointed to himself. He winked at me. “And I would be really thoughtful to Casey. I could go over the top, make her think I’m in love with her. That’ll send her running. Hot girls like that don’t like clingy guys. I’d do it for you.” 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">