Hate You, Henley: An Enemies To Lovers Sports Romance (Brooks University Book 3)

by Hannah Gray

Henley

  “It’s over three hours away, Henley,” my mother pleads, standing halfway in my room. She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, and her shoulders slump. “As much as I want you to be in the same sorority as I was, I just don’t think you being far away from home right now is best.”

  “Mom, why is three hours such a big deal? I don’t need a babysitter, you know.”

  “Well, quite frankly, I think you do need a babysitter. You’ve proven time and time again lately that you can’t be trusted with a lick of freedom.”

  “I’m a teenager,” I defend myself. “It’s what teenagers do. Dumb shit.”

  “You sneak out of your room in the middle of the night. Even when you’re grounded. You get rides home and throw up all over the steps, walking into our house, because you’re so drunk.” Her voice breaks slightly. “This isn’t the Henley we raised. This isn’t you.”

  She’s right. It’s not. It’s awful of me to worry my parents the way that I do. But I can’t control it. The monster I’ve become has taken over my mind, body, and soul. Leaving me completely at its mercy. I’ll never be anything more than a mess. That’s all I’ll ever be.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I know I’m causing you and Dad stress.”

  “Then, why do you do it?” She moves toward me. Slowly trying to inch her way to the bed, where she can undoubtedly attempt to console her brat of a daughter. Love her into being someone different. Someone better.

  I wish it were that easy.

  “Nothing I say will make sense.” I pick at my blue nail polish. “You wouldn’t get it.”

  “How do you know I wouldn’t get it when you haven’t even given me a chance? It has been months of hell. I can’t do this much longer.”

  She takes another step, hovering at the edge of my bed before finally sitting down and touching my arm.

  “Henley …” she says softly. “If you need to talk to me, you always can. I can help. I’m your mom.”

  She doesn’t get it. The words, they are so impossible to get out. I don’t even like to admit to myself what really is going on. It’s too painful. How am I supposed to just let everyone else in on my dirty little secret? The thing that makes me want to take three showers a day just to feel semi-clean. Even after, I still feel like I’m disgusting. How could I tell her that? It would kill her. She can’t handle the truth.

  Forcing a smile, I crane my neck toward her. “I’m fine, Mama. Promise.” Pointing to my textbook lying next to me on the bed, I sigh. “But I won’t be if I don’t get my homework done.”

  She watches me carefully. Detecting my lie. Still, she tries to smile. “Okay, my sweet girl. I can take the hint and go.” She stands, walking toward the door. “If you need me, I am always here.” I can hear the emotion in her voice. It’s thick and evident.

  Even though I can see it’s killing her inside, she gives me space. Because my mother is a goddamn saint. And I’m rotten to her.

  I lied. I’d finished my homework before she came in. But I didn’t want to talk anymore. Talking is exhausting. And it always seems like a waste of time.

  Dane is the one person I’ve clung to these past four months. An unlikely and weird source of comfort. We went through something together. And even though we agreed that we made a mistake, betraying the ones we loved most … we had nobody else left besides one another. So, no matter what, we have each other’s backs.

  Rolling to my side, I pull my nightstand open and take out a small box of Unisom. Without it, I can’t sleep. And even though it makes me feel like I’m a zombie in the morning, I can’t handle being awake all night with my thoughts. My self-deprecating thoughts.

  After about twenty-five minutes of staring at the ceiling, I’m sleepy. My eyes grow heavy, and I pray for a full night’s rest.

  As always, I’m not that lucky.

  Blood. It pours out of me. Making me feel light-headed.

  What is going on? Why am I bleeding so much? Am I dying?

  My white bedding is covered in the bright red mess.

  How will I ever hide this from my parents? How will I even get these stains out?

  I try to sit up but fall down instead. Maybe I should call 911, but my phone is nowhere to be found.

  “Help!” I cry, but no one answers me.

  “Help!”

  Still nothing.

  Suddenly, a pain rips through my body. A pain I’ve never experienced.

  This must be what it feels like to die. It has to be. What else could it be?

  I shoot up in my bed, gasping for air. Sweat pools down my face and back. Making my hair stick to my forehead in the grossest way.

  Pulling my blankets off, I realize it was just a dream. No, a nightmare. Trying to calm myself down, I take deep breaths. Happy that my parents’ room is on the other side of the house, where they can’t hear my cries.

  Reaching for my phone, I hit Dane’s contact.

  “Henley, you all right?” his voice says, and I can tell I woke him.

  Gazing at the clock, I see it’s three thirty in the morning.

  “Y-yeah. Sorry. I didn’t realize how late … or early it was. Go back to sleep.”

  “No, no. I’m awake now. Need me to come over?”

  I can tell he’s already wrestling around, likely throwing his clothes on.

  “If you don’t mind,” I say, flicking a tear away. “I’ll unlock the window.”

  “Be over in a sec.”

  Dane has been here for me during a time I wouldn’t let anyone else in. He wasn’t the closest person to me, though he was a friend. What tied us together made him the one I could trust.

  He’ll come over and sleep next to me, never making a romantic move of any sort. He’ll bring me comfort and ask for nothing in return. Which is good because I have nothing to give him.

  He is the one person I let in. And I don’t do it because he’s my person. I do it because he’s not.

  And sometimes, that’s easier.

  three

  Henley

  Graduation Night

  I take a hit from the joint and pass it back to whoever the hell passed it to me. Coughing a few times, I take a drink from my beer. Now, I remember why I don’t smoke much. For some reason, it doesn’t numb my feelings. In fact, it multiplies them by a thousand.

  Feelings are the devil. Feelings can go ahead and suck it.

  My heart starts to race, and a certain jitteriness comes over my body, making it hard for me to relax.

  Standing up, I search the room for Dane. It’s just a small party, so he shouldn’t be far. I don’t find him. Instead, Weston’s blue eyes watch me as he stands next to his friends.

  Looking away, I walk onto the front porch and gaze out at the lake as the moon hits the water. I can almost see my house from here on the opposite side of the channel. Inhaling, I blow back out, trying to calm my nerves.

  “You all right?” Weston’s deep voice says from behind me.

  I spin slowly to face him. A man who used to be my best friend now feels like a stranger to me. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans. His light-brown hair lies in an adorable, short mess. He’s not really the enemy, but … that’s how I treat him. And I can’t tell anyone why without sounding like a petty bitch.

  “Peachy,” I mutter, turning away. Setting my elbows on the railing, I go back to staring at the water. My calm place.

  “You been in lately?” He comes to stand next to me, tipping his chin toward the water.

  I shake my head.

  “That’s a shame, Henley. A damn shame,” he says slowly. “You threw it all away.”

  His words cause my heart to stop as I wonder what he thinks I threw away.

  He pauses. “Swimming. You threw it away.”

  Something tells me he’s talking about more than just swimming. Which wouldn’t be a lie. I’ve thrown everything away. Anything that mattered to me is now just a memory of the past.

  “Some of us care about more things in life tha
n playing a professional sport and being in the limelight,” I snap back. “To some, that shit doesn’t matter.”

  His gaze hardens, and he takes a step toward me. Making my body erupt into butterflies as my breath gets caught in my throat.

  “Oh, my bad. So, I should give up that dream and become a lush, like you?” He shakes his head, looking me up and down. “You’ve become a fucking disgrace. Smoking weed. Drunk more nights than not.”

  He takes another step forward, and my back pushes harder against the railing. I can smell him. And I fight the urge to clench my thighs together.

  “Hard to tell what other shit you’ll wind up on.”

  “And your point is?” I say coolly.

  When he stops in front of me, he gazes down. His eyes are dark with anger, and his nostrils flare. “I don’t even know who the fuck you are anymore. And I’m beginning to think I don’t want to.”

  “Good.” I shrug, as if I don’t care. “I don’t need you to know who I am. I need you to leave me alone. Think you can do that?”

  Reaching out, his thumb grazes my chin, forcing it upward. His touch makes my skin feel like it’s on fire. It makes me feel … alive. And that makes me angry.

  “Why would I leave you alone when it’s so satisfying to irritate you?” He smirks. “Besides, you’re kind of sexy when you’re pissed.” He dips his mouth closer to my ear. “Bitchy … but sexy.”

  A shiver runs down my body from his words. I blush, snapping back to the reality that I can’t let this man get too close to me. If he gets too close, he might learn the truth. My truth. I can’t have that. It’s easier right now, fake hating each other. If he learns the truth, he’ll actually hate me. How could he not?

  Ducking under his arm, I walk back inside. Leaving him standing on the porch by himself.

  Weston Wade is a thorn in my ass. An extra-painful one at that.

  Weston

  I face the water after she walks away from me. The smell of her shampoo still fills the air.

  I knew it was going to happen. She always runs. I have no idea why or what she’s actually running from. But one day, I’ll figure it out.

  She still has that fiery, take no shit, rip your nuts off if you fuck with me look in her eyes that she’s always had. But now, it’s different. She’s hurting, and I can see it all over her face. The partying, the drinking, the disobeying her parents, and pushing her friends away—it’s all because she’s fighting something inside. I just wish she’d tell me what that something was. I thought we were closer than this.

  I want to be supportive, but, Jesus Christ, does she make it hard. After her mouth spews one of her bitchy comments, I end up being a dick, and then she runs off. I wish I could grab her and kiss her pretty little smart-mouthed lips until she no longer had a stick lodged up her ass. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’d fare too well. She’d likely stab me or some shit. So, instead, I get close but not too close.

  Besides, I don’t think I could stop after one kiss. Not when I have so many other things I wish I could do to her hot little body.

  She’s likely going to want to murder me when she finds out I’m going to Brooks University in Georgia with her. Her parents and I agreed it’d be best we kept it on the down-low. If she found out, she’d probably switch colleges or some shit. She’s going somewhere she thought me or her other friends wouldn’t be. Well, besides Dane. She probably wishes he were going there.

  Fuck him.

  It’ll just be us once we get there. After that, I’m going to be her unpaid official fucking babysitter. And even if she wants to push me away, I’m not going anywhere. I made a promise to her parents, and I respect Allison and Andy too much to go back on my word.

  Henley Hayes has a damn good poker face. But I also know she’s had a soft spot for me since we were babies. I’ll get back into her good graces.

  How hard could it really be?

  four

  Henley

  Freshman Year of College

  Move-in day is here. And to be completely freaking honest, I don’t know if I’m excited about that. Or terrified. The thought that I made a mistake by coming here runs through my head over and over again.

  Why did I pick Brooks? Will I hate it here? What if I hate every person in this stupid sorority? What if they look at me like I’m a gross insect they want to squish?

  I’ve always been known to put on a brave face. During my swim meets, at school, everywhere I go, I try to seem like I’m confident. Really, I’m freaking out inside most of the time. Then again, maybe we all are. Maybe every person in this sorority feels like the outcast.

  My father hugs me as we stand on the sidewalk before they leave. My mom cries, letting her tears fall freely down her face.

  I’ve always loved that about my mom. She feels what she feels out in the open. She tried to instill it in me too. But it never really stuck once I got older. Still, she tried. She never told me to stop crying or to wipe my tears. She’d simply hold me and rub my back and tell me that crying was part of life. That it was normal and healthy to let it out sometimes. Then after, we’d go for some ice cream.

  “Don’t forget to call, young lady.” My dad side-hugs me tighter. “Or else …”

  “I know. I know,” I say before he releases me. “I’ll call. And I’m sure I’ll come home to Gray to visit. After all, three hours isn’t all that far away.”

  Gray, South Carolina, is a small town. Everybody knows everybody’s business. Or they think they do anyway. If they don’t know for sure, they’ll probably just make some shit up. Which is why I never breathed a word of my problems to anyone besides Dane. And we vowed to take it to our graves.

  “Three hours and seventeen minutes,” my dad grumbles. “Not exactly close either.”

  “Lots of kids go way farther away than that,” I say, tilting my head at him. “Y’all will be fine without me. Heck, you’ll probably enjoy a little alone time.”

  Neither of them says anything back. My father gripes some inaudible words and heads toward the car.

  I hug my mom, and she holds me longer than she normally would. And when I start to pull away, she clings tighter. I don’t take this moment from her. Instead, I let her hold on for as long as she needs to. It’s the least I can do for being a brat this past year.

  Finally, she releases me. Swiping a hand over my forehead, she gives me a small smile. “I love you, Henley Grace. Please, be safe here. I’m begging you.” She sniffles. “There’s only one you in the world. I don’t know what I’d do if something ever happened to you.”

  Her words cause a lump to form in my throat.

  I smile before nodding. “I will.” I feel a twang of guilt in my stomach. Knowing I’ll likely make more reckless decisions while I’m here. But I want to make her feel better before she leaves. “Promise.”

  We say good-bye a few more times, and of course, she hugs me once more. Then, they get in the car and drive away. And after watching them until they disappear, I walk back into my new home and then to my new room. I stand there, staring at nothing, unsure of what I should be doing and feeling like an outsider and slightly uncomfortable. But this is a new beginning. I need to treat it like one.

  Even though I’m a legacy in the sorority, I still had to go through the Rush process, which was awkward as fuck. And as an automatic in, I didn’t really put a whole lot of effort into trying to sell myself to the other girls, but still, I need to try a little. For my mom’s sake anyway.

  Which brings me to my new living situation. Another bonus of being a legacy and having a mom actively involved in the alumni association: she was able to pull some strings and get a room for me in the house rather than living in the dorms. I honestly think it was my parents’ way of trying to keep some kind of hold on me. But really, I’m just glad I’ll get better food and nicer living conditions. I mean, we have a cook, a house mom, and even house “boys” who clean up after our meals. Pretty amazing.

  It’s kind of funny though. Any movie I’ve
seen or books I’ve read indicates sororities are where the parties are at—or at least they have good connections to the best parties. My mother, however, warned me that I needed to be on my best behavior if I wanted to be a part of Delta Gamma. So, perhaps my idea of what a sorority is, is false.

  I know my parents want me to be good. They need me to be good. But the truth is, I don’t know how to be good anymore. And when I’m bad, I can numb my guilt easier.

  Guilt is such a downplayed feeling of crappiness. People talk about hate and pain. But guilt … guilt can eat you alive.

  I know at some point, I’ll need to start adulting and grow up. Get over my issues and stop living in the past. But today doesn’t feel like the day to start that adulting shit. Today, I just want to find a college party and get drunk.

  Plastering a fake smile on my face, I leave my room and walk toward the living room to meet my new sisters. Hoping to somehow feel a little less like an outcast and a little more like I didn’t just make the worst decision of my life.

  After an hour of sitting here, in a circle in the living room, I’ve realized something. My new sisters aren’t exactly what I pictured. Some of them are. In fact, some are exactly what I imagined. But some look … normal. Like me. Not like the Barbie dolls my brain portrayed them to be. Equipped with plastic breasts and injected lips. The majority of them are ordinary.

  I watch one girl with red hair whisper to a blonde before they turn to me, looking me up and down. A few years ago, I would have let it go. Now, I’m quick with my tongue, and I don’t always think before I speak.

  “Can I help you?” I lift an eyebrow. When they give me a puzzled look, I narrow my eyes. “You know, it sure seems like you’re whispering and staring at me, leading me to believe you’re talking about me.”

  The blonde’s eyes widen. “I’m Bree Windham. This is Layla Lovejoy. She’s on the swim team. She was wondering if you planned to join.”

  I look between the girls before tilting my chin to the redhead. “That true, Layla?”