The Hating Season

by Linde, K. A.

  I alternated between determination to get over what Josh had done and staring blankly out my window for an hour at a time. I hadn’t cried since I came back from London and sobbed in Lark’s arms. I didn’t want to cry either. But that didn’t mean that I was okay. I felt… submerged. As if I were underwater and any moment Josh would pull me up and laugh and say that it had all been a dream. That my perfect life wasn’t over and things were back to how they’d been.

  Finally, Whitley crashed into my apartment and forced me to get ready. She all but threw me into the shower. I wasn’t happy with the situation, but I loved her to death. We’d met at UCLA in the same sorority and reunited when she went to medical school in the city. Now she was one of the best up-and-coming plastic surgeons in Manhattan. Even Katherine was going to see her. Not that I had any idea what kind of treatments Katherine could need when she was already one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met in my life.

  “Are you done?” Whitley groaned from my bare living room. “You don’t even have Netflix set up. What kind of animal are you?”

  I stepped out of the bedroom and held my hands out. I wore a skintight hot-pink dress that buttoned around my neck and had a deep slit all the way to my navel. The dress flared to my knees, and I wore white pumps with them. “Acceptable?”

  “Hot as fuck,” Whitley said. “Damn, girl, you look like an A-list celeb.”

  “A little too Hollywood then?” I said with a fake laugh. “Should I go put on something black?”

  “It’s the color of the city. But no, you should never fit in when you can stand out in that.”

  “Thanks, Whit.”

  I grabbed my purse and followed Whitley downstairs. We walked outside, and Whitley barely had time to hold her hand out for a cab when a man rushed forward with an enormous camera and took my picture.

  I blinked stars out of my eyes as shock overtook me.

  “Anna Hutch! What are your thoughts on the pictures of Josh and Celeste in bed?” the man asked.

  “Get out of her face,” Whitley said, trying to get between me and the photographer.

  “Anna, did you know that Josh was cheating on you?”

  “No…no comment,” I said. Then I found my publicist voice. I straightened and shot him a cool look. “I have nothing to say to you. Except that my name isn’t Anna Hutch.”

  Then I strode away from the paparazzo who had somehow found me and into the awaiting vehicle with Whitley close behind.

  I’d kept it together for the photographer, but my hands trembled as we sped away. I’d dealt with the paparazzi for years. In LA, I knew half of the people who stalked my clients for pictures and information. We worked together, rotating favors and exclusives. But here in New York, I wasn’t that well acquainted with them. Court wasn’t being hounded by the press anymore, which left me time to plan other things rather than dealing with the bloodsucking leeches.

  I certainly hadn’t been prepared to deal with them personally rather than professionally. Of course, when I had gone out with Josh, paparazzi had followed us and taken our picture. But I was used to that. They hadn’t infiltrated my life in New York yet. Not until today.

  “Fuck, what a douche bag,” Whitley spat. “I can’t believe he just got up in your space like that. You should have used some of your jiu-jitsu skills to put him in his place.”

  “He was just doing his job,” I said, trying to cover my unease.

  “Yeah, well, he can go do his job elsewhere.”

  “I know a lot of them back in LA. They’re just normal people, trying to make a living. I had to work with them for Poise, and of course, they followed Josh around.”

  “The whole thing disturbs me. Like…how rude to ask about your relationship with Josh.”

  I laughed softly, relaxing as the shock wore off. “I’ve never seen you worked up like that, Whit. I didn’t think anything ruffled your feathers.”

  “I don’t like invasions of privacy. I have lines. That’s one of them.” She grinned at me. “I know I’m a ball of ridiculous behavior and riotous energy most of the time, but no one messes with my friends.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Thanks.”

  We made it to Sparks without incident and found Katherine and Lark already waiting for us at a VIP booth.

  Katherine Van Pelt was a force to be reckoned with. She was one of those people who always got precisely what she wanted. At first, I’d thought she was aloof and disingenuous, and then I realized that was the front she put on. She cared deeply for the people who were important to her… and no one else. Which made her come off as callous and frigid to outsiders.

  But she had a smile on her red-painted lips when she saw me. “English, you made it.” She kissed my cheek.

  “Hi, Katherine.”

  And then she arched an eyebrow at Whitley. “And what tornado are you bringing us today?”

  She laughed and pressed an uninvited kiss straight onto Katherine’s lips. “I’m the tornado, of course. But I’m sure you want to hear the latest.”

  “Your dating endeavors entertain me greatly.”

  “Oh, another Whitley exclusive,” Lark said with a laugh. “Should be interesting.”

  She offered me a drink, which I took gratefully as we all waited for the wild ride that was Whitley’s dating life.

  “Okay, so I met this girl on an online dating app,” Whitley said.

  “You were on a dating app?” Katherine asked incredulously. “You don’t seem the type.”

  “Yeah, well, one of my nurses suggested it. Anyway, she was hot, and we had similar interests. I figured I’d give it a try.”

  “Let me guess,” Katherine said. “She catfished you?”

  “Nope!” Whitley said. “I screen that shit. I’m no amateur.”

  We all laughed. I felt the weight of the last week melting off of my shoulders with the familiarity of Whitley’s stories and the help of vodka.

  “I showed up at the bar to meet her. We hit it off, and she asked if I wanted to go home with her. Which, like… great intro. I was game. Then, we got there. I was thinking I was going to get laid, and suddenly, her husband appeared.”

  “What?” I spat.

  “Whitley,” Lark said with concern.

  She held up her hand. “Not what you think. The dude was into it! She’d picked me up and wanted him to watch or some shit. I’d told her I was bi earlier in the conversation, but I hadn’t thought that I’d be ambushed with, like, some sex kink or a threesome.”

  “Good god,” Katherine said. “This only happens to you.”

  “What’d you do?” Lark asked.

  “You stayed,” I intuited.

  Whitley grinned. “Yeah, I stayed. I had the threesome. But I bounced right after the sex and blocked her number. I’m not here to play party all the time.”

  “Your life is so…” Katherine said, lost for the word.

  “Awesome?” Whitley asked.

  “Unique.”

  Whitley laughed and winked at her. “Pour me some tequila, and we’ll see where the night leads, Katherine.”

  Katherine just shook her head with an amused look on her face. I knew Katherine was simply humoring Whitley’s crazier tendencies. That she’d likely go home to Camden and do whatever those two did when they were alone. I still wasn’t sure how their arranged marriage functioned. But I didn’t ask questions either. What did I know about a functioning marriage anyway?

  I forced the thoughts aside and dived headfirst into drinks and dancing. Sweat clung to my back, and my feet already killed me, but it was worth it. Lark had been right. Getting out of the apartment and trying not to think was doing the trick.

  I plopped down to give my aching feet a break and checked my phone for any emergencies. I was especially paranoid after what had happened with Court while I was gone. I’d have to go see him tomorrow and fix the damage we’d done to our professional relationship. Another thing I didn’t want to think of.

  And then, as I scrolled through social
media, an incoming call lit up the phone. I cursed when I saw it was Josh.

  I was drunk. I definitely shouldn’t answer that. I couldn’t even math what time it must be in London for him to be calling me right now. Really early.

  Still, I stumbled away from the girls and pressed the phone to my ear. “Josh?”

  “English,” he said with relief in his voice. “I didn’t know if you’d still be awake.”

  “I am.”

  “Where are you? It’s loud on your end.”

  “That’s really none of your business.”

  He sighed heavily. “Don’t be that way.”

  “What way is that, Josh?” I demanded. “Upset that you cheated on me? Because I am. I’m furious.”

  “I just found out that you moved out of the house in LA.”

  “Yep,” I snapped. “Sure did.”

  “Please, English, can we just talk about this? Slow down and figure out what we can do? How we can salvage this? We’ve been together for five years. Do you really just want to throw that all away?”

  “No, I don’t. But I don’t want to be married to a cheater either. So, I’m not going to be married to a cheater.”

  “What are you saying?”

  I swallowed. “I want a divorce.”

  It was the first time I’d said the words out loud. Even though I’d been thinking them since the minute I found out what had happened with him and Celeste and rushed out of his flat in London. To me, it had ended that day. Five years together, down the drain. Two years of marriage, just poof! Gone! It was a travesty.

  “English,” he gasped, the pain in his voice evident. “Please… don’t say that. Let’s talk this out and make a decision together.”

  “You already made your decision, Josh.”

  “Please…”

  “Good-bye, Josh,” I whispered and then hung up the phone.

  I felt like I was going to throw up. And also, I was resolute. It was officially over.

  5

  Court

  “If you’re on lockdown, then why are we going out again?” Sam asked as we exited my apartment together.

  “Because I’m fucking tired of being in the house. I don’t even know when English is coming back. I’m not going to sit around and wait any longer.”

  Sam shot me an incredulous look. I knew what that meant. Sam, unlike Camden, was a rule-follower. He was probably the least likely person to hang out with me and Camden, who tore up the town and never gave two fucks about anything. But Sam was also a great guy. Someone who didn’t judge my actions. He just gradually steered me in the right direction. Like he was right now.

  “We could always just do something less…problematic,” he suggested.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know…video games?”

  I snorted and held my hand out for a cab. “I was thinking lots of alcohol and getting laid. Maybe something recreational.”

  Sam shook his head. “I don’t care if you get drunk and sleep with someone, but if it gets out that you’re smoking pot or worse…English will kill you.”

  “Or worse?” I said with a laugh, getting into the cab. Sam followed, and then we were driving into Midtown. “You say ‘or worse’ like you’ve never snorted cocaine before.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Well, look at you, growing up in a stable household.”

  Sam shrugged indifferently. “Not apologizing for that.”

  “Fair.” Sam had gone all stiff, and I nudged him with my easy smile. “All right, relax. No cocaine tonight. We’ll just get drunk.”

  “Good.”

  “And wait…what’s wrong with smoking pot?” I asked.

  “Besides it being illegal?”

  “Yeah, but it shouldn’t be.”

  “That’s true. But isn’t English trying to make you look like the golden boy? All straightlaced?”

  “Whatever. I don’t care.”

  “Yes, you do,” Sam said with a knowing smile as the cab pulled up in front of Sparks.

  I threw cash over the seat and stepped out in front of the club. Sam wasn’t wrong. I did care. But the cabin fever had set in, and I needed to get away. Plus, Camden wasn’t wrong. Getting laid might help take the edge off. It’d be better than sitting around in my house, jerking off again.

  I stepped into the pulsing nightclub and immediately felt in my element. I was ready to get rid of the pussy-whipped asshole who had done whatever Jane wanted. Ready to shuck off the constraints I’d put on myself the last couple months. It’d be easier to just move on already.

  “Let’s find Camden and Gavin,” I called out to Sam. “Then drinks.”

  Sam pointed straight ahead. “Found them.”

  I followed his attention and saw that Camden stood next to Katherine. Gavin was dancing zealously with Whitley and Lark.

  “I didn’t know the girls would be out tonight,” I said.

  Sam shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

  “Lark didn’t say anything?”

  “Nope. I’m surprised myself, considering she’s burning the candle at both ends right now, coming up to the primary.”

  “Well, let’s go find out,” I said.

  Unease settled in the pit of my stomach. Going out with the guys was different than meeting the girls out. It was more difficult to pick someone up this way. Though still… probably not difficult.

  We pushed through the throng of people on the dance floor and into the VIP section. Gavin saw us first and pointed his finger in our direction.

  “Court Kensington has arrived, ladies and gentlemen!” Gavin cried.

  We clapped our hands together in an aggressive handshake.

  “Gavin, my man.”

  Lark furrowed her brow when she saw me. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be out.”

  “What are you, my mom now?”

  She straightened at the bite in my voice. “Don’t be a dick.”

  “Comes with the territory.”

  “Only when you want it to.”

  “Must be confusing me with another Kensington,” I said with a sweeping bow.

  Lark was close friends with my brother, Penn. And sometimes, when she looked at me, I swore she saw him and not me. I wasn’t the cookie-cutter Columbia professor who had defied his family’s interests and fallen in love with philosophy, of all things. I wasn’t on some moral high ground. Penn and I had a fraught past, and though we were working toward the right direction, it was times like this that made me remember why I wasn’t him.

  “Why do you always deflect like that?” Lark asked.

  I shrugged. “Just tired of people telling me what to do. If I want to be out, then I’ll be out. I don’t care who tells me that.”

  “You sure?” She arched an eyebrow and nodded her head behind me.

  I whipped around and found none other than Anna English.

  Busted.

  Fuck.

  “English,” I said, wide-eyed. “I didn’t know that you were back from LA.”

  “Clearly,” she said. Her jaw was set. Her eyes narrowed in my direction. “What the fuck are you doing here, Court?”

  “What the fuck am I doing here? What the fuck are you doing here? I thought you were still in LA. Why didn’t you text me or anything?”

  English crossed her arms over her ample chest. Something solidified in her eyes. Something lethal. “I just got back.”

  “I saw what happened with Josh.”

  She flinched. Yeah, that was the wrong thing to say.

  “Which is why I’m out. But it makes no sense why you’re out.”

  “Because your lockdown was bullshit,” I snapped right back.

  “It was for a reason.”

  “Yeah, because you were pissed your husband cheated on you.”

  The girls all sucked in breaths at my words. Even Gavin looked wounded. Camden’s face was blank, but I could see the questions in his eyes. But it was English who hadn’t moved at the words. At the cruel things I’d sai
d to get a reaction out of her.

  She just took a step forward. “We’re leaving.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her hand circled my wrist. Her nails dug into my skin. “Now.”

  “No.”

  She stared back at me, resolute. “What was your plan tonight? Just going to get wasted and take a girl home? Not care about who sees you or how it looks for the campaign a week before your mother needs to get nominated for the primary? You can be a fuckup all you want when it only affects you. But you’re jeopardizing other people’s livelihoods, and you’re so flippant about it. Do you only care about yourself?”

  Her words cut like a razor blade across my jugular. Hadn’t people been saying that to me my entire life? I knew she was pissed. That she was just throwing more of her own mess at me. But she’d gone for the jugular.

  I wrenched out of her grip. “Fine.”

  “Fine,” she spat back.

  She turned back to our friends and grabbed her purse. She and Lark exchanged a glance, and then she forced her way out of the booth. I gritted my teeth and followed her. I’d come out, wanting a fun night, and instead, I ended up with this shit. I’d thought I’d finally be getting laid tonight. Nope. Just fucking dealing with English. I couldn’t think of a worse torture that my mother could have devised than getting me a publicist.

  I pressed back through the throng of bodies. My anger simmered right at the surface. It was one thing for her to scream at me in my apartment because I’d fucked up when we were trying so hard to change my image. It was another thing entirely to drag me out of a club when I was doing nothing wrong. Nothing that was going to end up in the papers. Page Six didn’t even care about a Kensington going to a club. That wasn’t news.

  I’d leave this time. And then we’d have words. Because this wasn’t fucking continuing.

  I stepped out of the club on her heels. She had her head down, staring at her phone. She looked worried as she bit down on her bottom lip. Then her eyes found mine, and she released her lip and put her phone away.

  “Let’s get a cab to your place. I want to see that you get home,” she told me.

  “Fine. And then we’ll talk.”

  She rolled her eyes and said nothing.