The Perks of
Hating
You
By Stephanie Street
The Perks of Dating You
By Stephanie Street
Text copyright © 2018 Stephanie Street
All Rights Reserved
Also by Stephanie Street
Young Adult Novels
The Perks of Dating You (Perks Book 1)
The Perks of Hating You (Perks Book 2)
Save Me
Us at the Beach
Contemporary Inspirational Romance
Chasing Paris
Clean Historical Romance
Loved so Long: Brides of Carson’s Creek Book One
Loved from Afar: Brides of Carson’s Creek Book Two
Coming in 2018
High School basketball series
To Mom: Thank you for always believing in me.
And for fixing my typos.
I love you, Woman!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
PART TWO
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Eden
It was just so cliché. There was a whole genre in the book section on Amazon. Hundreds of books written about one thing- falling for your brother’s best friend. How unoriginal, right? It’s all over the place. But no one’s ever accused me of being a cliché. So, instead of crushing on Josh’s best friend, I decided to hate Dylan Coulter with all my heart. It was the perfect plan, really, since there was no way on this planet Dylan would ever notice me that way. Why pine? Why deal with all the angst over every perfect girlfriend? They could have him, because I didn’t care. At. All.
Besides, Dylan made it easy to hate him. What was to love about a crooked smile? Or husky, sexy voice? And that body? Perfectly sculpted with muscles not too lean or too bulky- how gross. Some girls might go for the perfectly tanned in winter without going to the tanning salon skin, but not me. It was unnatural. Uh-uh. No, sir. Who cared that his piercing green eyes practically glowed from behind the thickest, lushest lashes ever bestowed upon a mere mortal? I sure didn’t. Nope. Dylan Coulter could be choking on a hunk of his favorite beef jerky and I wouldn’t even pause in applying my makeup to perform the Heimlich. (Oh, alright. Fine. I would, but I wouldn’t want to.) Yep, hating Dylan was much, much easier than crushing on him.
“What’s up, E-Dawg,” the object of my hatred asked as he plopped down on the sofa beside me, plucking the bag of Cool Ranch Dorito’s I’d been eating right out of my hands.
“Hey,” I objected, elbowing Dylan in his ridiculously firm bicep while he held the bag out of my reach. “I was eating those.” Nothing like stating the obvious to your arch nemesis.
“No shit,” Dylan teased. “Looked more like you were inhaling them. Where do you put all the junk food you eat, Little E?”
“My name is Eden, you overgrown ape. Now give me my chips!” Dylan’s favorite thing to do to annoy me was to make up stupid nicknames. It was a rare thing for him to call me by my actual name. The worst was when he called me-
“C’mon, Ed-”
Ed. Not even with a long e sound. The name’s Eden. Not Edward.
“-I’m hungry. Didn’t anyone ever teach you to share?” He held the bag of chips out of my reach. It was beyond annoying being so short. Even standing on the couch, I couldn’t reach the chips he held from his seated position.
“You didn’t ask to share, you just took them,” I grunted as I climbed over his lap to get to my snack.
“Hey, watch where you’re stepping.” Dylan shoved my thighs with his forearm when my feet might have accidentally gotten too close to the family jewels. Served him right. Except for the fact that I was flying through the air, heading straight for the coffee table in front of the sofa, and I still didn’t have my chips.
“Dylan,” I shrieked, arms helicopter-ing in an attempt to prevent my fall.
“I got you.” And he did. With some kind of ninja move, Dylan’s arm snaked out and wrapped around my waist, preventing a trip to the ER. The result? Me, completely sprawled across his lap. Scrambling, I tried to get up.
“Ouch! Hey!” Dylan fended off my uncoordinated attempt by plucking me off his person and depositing me on the sofa beside him. Right back where I started.
Rage took over my body. “I hate you, Dylan Coulter!”
Dylan eyed me for a moment, a chip, my chip, suspended in the air halfway to his mouth. His full, delicious looking mouth, which I hated, that was now fighting an amused grin.
Eyes narrowing, I sat back as Dylan leaned over, invading my personal space. What was he doing?
“You know what they say, E-sprite,” he began.
“No, what do they say, jerk face?”
Dylan’s grin spread wider. “There’s a fine line between love and hate.” Then, with his eyes transfixed on mine, he pursed his lips to kiss the air between us.
Wow.
I mean, YUCK!
“Ugh! You really are a jerk, Dylan,” I retorted, mustering my most disdainful voice. Fed up, I jumped from the couch and stomped to the stairs leading out of the basement.
“You forgot your chips, E-smalls,” he taunted around a mouthful.
Dang him! But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of replying, even if the sound of his quiet chuckle made me want to run back and kick him in the shins.
Much better, I decided once I returned to my room, slamming the door so hard my windows rattled. Good thing mom and dad weren’t home from work yet. Whatever. Stupid Dylan. Now what was I going to do? I thought about calling Allie, but then I remembered two-a-days had started for football and as student athletic trainer for the team, she had to be there as well, leaving me with no one to hang out with.
Josh and Dylan graduated last spring. It was weird to think of my brother heading off for college. In fact, he would be leaving the very next day to attend Syracuse where he would major in pre-law. The house was going to feel so weird without Josh around. The only good thing about him leaving was that he had saved up to buy his own car and I would be inheriting his beast to drive. Whatever. I was glad to have a ride and the old Ford truck was at least reliable. The bad news- I wouldn’t be turning sixteen until a month after school started- my family’s solution to my not having a ride to school? 1) take the school bus. So not happening. 2) beg a ride off Dylan until I got my license. Ugh. I suppose if I had to.
Flopping back on my bed, I sighed. School would start on Monday. The first day of sophomore year. Allie and I wouldn’t be lowly freshman this year. Not that being a sophomore was as cool as being an upperclassman, but anything was better than being a freshman and this year I was determined to find a boyfriend.
Allie was great and everything,
but I was only half of her best friend equation. Her other best friend was Hottie McHotcakes, Connor Sanders, starting quarterback and up and coming king of the school. Connor was cool and everything. And hot. So, so hot. Not Dylan hot, but close. The problem with Connor was that he was so dang cool, and he absolutely loved Allie. Like loved her. She didn’t know it yet and I wondered if he even did, but it as plain as the nose on his face. Connor Sanders was nuts for my girl, Allie. Which was great for Allie, for me not so much, especially when Allie and Connor spent every waking moment together.
That’s why I needed a guy of my own. Reaching for the drawer in my bedside table, I pulled out my diary. The book was stuffed to the gills with magazine clippings and pictures printed off the internet pasted to the pages. Each one held a distinctive look or beauty technique. Makeup was my passion! I lived for blending and contouring. The book also had all my plans for the future. I lived for lists and outlines. Yesterday, I began a new list of all my goals for sophomore year and at the very top of that list was ‘get a boyfriend’.
Each of my goals required an outline. Grabbing a handful of colorful markers, I laid them out on my comforter before plucking a violet one out of the bunch. In curly letters at the top of a fresh page I wrote ‘Goal- Get a boyfriend’. Bullet point ‘A’ wardrobe. Subpoint ‘1’ first day outfit. Thankfully, this was already taken care of. Last week I bribed Allie with an hour of playing video games to go with me to the mall to find an appropriate first day of school outfit.
And I found the perfect thing! A high waist pleated short skirt in black with a deep plum fitted sweater with three-quarter sleeves. For accessories, a sheer, floral infinity scarf, gold and silver bangles and thigh-high black leather boots. Hot.
After the outfit, subpoints ‘2’ and ‘3’ consisted of hair and makeup respectively. Lucky for me, I have naturally gorgeous hair compliments of my mother. Her Native American roots came with some amazing features including silky black hair that looked like I spent hours straightening it when all I’d done was let it air dry after my shower. It fell like a velvet curtain over my shoulders and down my back until it almost reached my bottom. All it would need Monday morning was a deliberately messy braid over one shoulder and done.
Makeup would be trickier if I hadn’t spent most of the summer pouring over magazines and watching YouTube videos. Thank goodness for YouTube! And an easy summer job walking dogs in my neighborhood. My entire income had been spent at MAC. My collection rivaled that of a professional makeup artist- I YouTubed that, too. I was going for a sweet look to contrast the drama of my thigh-high boots and short skirt. Shades of pink with a shimmer. Of course, my look would never be complete without my signature cat-eyeliner, but with my high cheekbones and flawless skin- bless those Native American genetics- getting away with a light application of foundation and blusher was easy. Finishing my look, a deep fuchsia lip color.
After trying it all on yesterday, I was actually looking forward to Monday and finally wearing it all outside of my bedroom. Yep, come Monday morning, step one of my get a boyfriend goal would be in full swing and I couldn’t wait!
Chapter 2
Eden
I take it all back! Ugh. School could wait. Boyfriends? Who needed that kind of drama in life? I didn’t. The butterflies dancing in my stomach testified to how unprepared I was for what I was about to do. Maybe I should just pull out a pair of comfortable jeans and a nice V-neck tee.
Why, oh why, did I think this short skirt and these boots were a good idea? Maybe I should have run this outfit by my mom before she and dad left to take Josh to the airport. Too late now.
Come on, Eden, no time for second thoughts now.
If the time glowing from the alarm clock beside my bed wasn’t proof enough there wasn’t time to change even if I wanted to, and I kind of did, the sound of Dylan’s horn blaring out on the street was.
Taking one last glance at myself in the full-length mirror, I gave myself a quick pep talk. I could do this!
With a deep breath, I made my way out of my room and trotted down the stairs and out the front door.
Whoa.
Dang Dylan! How was I supposed to keep hating him when he looked like that? Day-um! Hoping my sunglasses would cover the lust glowing from my eyes, I assumed the hateful mask I’d been perfecting for the last decade, while avoiding taking in every last delicious detail of Dylan’s appearance as he leaned against the open passenger door, waiting for me.
Jeez, didn’t he know the James Dean look was overdone? Girls were going for the metro look now, weren’t they? You know, skinny jeans and tight t-shirts with pointy shoes? Dylan at least had the tight t-shirt part down. The black fabric stretched across his broad chest like it had been painted there by a master. His worn cargo pants hung loosely from his narrow hips. Cargo pants had never looked so good. The black work boots on his feet were scuffed and broken in from working for his dad’s construction company all summer. The work must be responsible for the muscles, too.
Dylan frowned as I approached and removed his sunglasses, propping them in the still damp hair he’d combed back off his forehead. Eyes squinting, his gaze roved over me from head to toe. It might have been flattering except for the horrified look on his face.
“What in the hell are you wearing?”
Stopping dead five feet from him, I fought the urge to roll my eyes like a ten-year-old.
“What?” Dragging my eyes away from him, I glanced down my outfit and I reminded myself why it was better to hate Dylan than to crush on him. Hating him didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate pure, unadulterated masculinity, though, right?
Right.
“What are you wearing, Ed,” he asked again, only this time instead of sounding pissed off, his voice was low and husky.
There was no stopping the eyes at this point, no matter how childish it was. “They’re called clothes, Dylan.” Setting my hand on my cocked hip, I dared him to comment further. I must have really hit the mark if my pseudo-brother was getting upset about my look.
“I don’t think that skirt qualifies as clothes,” he replied, raising one brow.
“Good thing I’m not worried about what you think,” I shot back, taking a step toward his truck.
“Wait!” Dylan stopped me with a hand on my arm.
With all the attitude of a pre-teen, I met his gaze defiantly. Then instantly wished I hadn’t. Golly. He was hot.
“Why? Let’s go,” I demanded. Come to think of it, one brother was enough.
“Seriously, what’s with the outfit? You never used to wear stuff like that.” He looked truly perplexed and a little disturbed. It might be fun to play with him. Try out some of my newly discovered feminine wiles.
Taking a step closer, I smiled my most seductive smile. It was a good one, too. I practiced it in the mirror all the time. Don’t judge. Nobody wanted to go for seduction and wind up with creepy! Dylan’s expression turned wary as my finger trailed from his collarbone over one well defined pectoral muscle and down toward his rock-hard abs. With one brow raised in challenge, I allowed my finger to dip lower and lower over his stomach. We’d see who called chicken first.
“Eden!” Shouting just as my finger reached his belly button, he swatted my hand from his body.
“Don’t you like my clothes, Dill,” I asked, biting my lower lip, fully entertained because he called me by my actual name.
Dylan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes dipping to my lips before returning to meet mine. Fascinated, I watched as an emotion I’d never seen before passed across his face before it hardened, his jaw muscles twitching.
“You know what, whatever. You can dress however you want. Let’s go.”
“Thank you.” Again, with attitude.
Ever the gentleman, Dylan held my door, closing it once I was in before stalking around to his side of the truck. In seconds, we were peeling out down the street.
Dylan cranked up the radio, blaring Breaking Benjamin from the speakers. Before lo
ng, he pulled into the parking lot in front of the school. He hadn’t said another word to me the whole time. Whatever. I needed to focus on my plan and Dylan Coulter had absolutely nothing to do with that plan.
“Thanks for the ride,” I called over my shoulder as I hopped from the front seat once he stopped in front of the double doors leading into the school.
“Hey, Ed,” he yelled out the window after turning down the stereo.
“Yeah,” I asked, wondering what in the world he had to say that he couldn’t have said while we were still driving.
Dylan seemed to struggle to spit it out and I was about to turn away and go inside without waiting to hear when he finally got the words passed his lips.
“Just- just, sometimes the thing you think you want, you really don’t.” Then, he just looked at me as though trying to gauge my response to that cryptic remark.
“Okay, Dylan.” He had no idea what I wanted in the first place. “See you tomorrow.”
There wasn’t time to worry about Dylan, anyway. I had more important things to do, like wow the male population of my high school until I found the perfect guy to be my new boyfriend.
Dylan
Holy shit!
What were her parents thinking letting Eden out of the house looking like that? She might not have any idea what kind of thoughts a guy had when a hot girl dressed in short skirts and thigh-high boots, but I did.
Oh, man, did I.
I about had to scrape my jaw off the pavement when I first saw her walking out of her house, she looked that good. Don’t get me wrong, Eden’s always been pretty. Gorgeous. Adorable. And so tiny, you wanted to put her in your pocket and take her home. But today she looked like a goddess.
A freaking sex goddess, running her finger over my body making me feel things I shouldn’t feel for a girl who wasn’t even sixteen yet. Things I shouldn’t feel for my best friend’s baby sister. Hell. I remembered Eden in diapers and it did weird things to me seeing her in black leather. Weird need-a-cold-shower kind of things.
The Perks of Hating You ( Perks Book 2) Page 1
