The Perks of Hating You ( Perks Book 2)

by Stephanie Street

  Ohhhh…

  Without thought, I approached, like I was stuck in a tractor beam, unable to correct my course, even though I knew I should. Reaching out, my fingers almost brushed the glass protecting the worn photo. He cleared his throat behind me and my hand dropped to my side. Why did he have it?

  Tearing my gaze away, I turned to face him. Cole stood, frowning, his arms crossed over his chest. I couldn’t help but notice the changes to his body since the last time I’d been this close. Back then, I’d seen the promise of the man he was quickly becoming. He’d always been strong, lean. But now, his body bulged with muscles, his veins pulsing close to his skin, not an ounce of fat hiding them. He’d grown taller, too. We hadn’t been the same height since fifth grade, but now he towered over me. His handsome face, which used to light with a mischievous smile whenever he saw me, was tense, his jaw muscles clenched.

  I swallowed hard. “You’ve changed things around.” Stupid! I had more important things to discuss with him than the arrangement of his bedroom. But suddenly, the changes seemed significant. Like the placement of his bed against the opposite wall from where it had been and the desk’s new position by the door were symbols of the changes in our relationship. Even the Star Wars bedspread had been replaced by a crimson and navy comforter. I missed Darth Vader’s mask.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah.” I blinked a few times- hard! This was worse than I thought it would be. I wasn’t sure I could do this. If Cole agreed to my plan, we would have to spend time together. I would have to spend time with him. It would be the second hardest thing I’d ever have to do. Leaving him had been the first.

  “What are you doing here, Jo?” He sat on the edge of his desk.

  I turned away. The sound of his voice, combined with the smell of him and- Jo. My body felt how it did when I was sick with a fever, achy and hot. Like if anyone touched my skin, it would be the most painful thing. And then I saw it, the thing I needed to be reminded of- why I was here in the first place. Out his window- my house.

  I took a deep breath. “I need your help, Cole.”

  He sniggered, the sound so derisive. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  Shaking myself, I added a few more bricks to my defenses. I could do this. I had to do this. I cloaked myself with the professionalism I’d learned working as an assistant in the office of a local realtor. It was a perfect job for me. Fake smiles. Feigned happiness. Masks. Plus, between answering phone calls, I was able to work on my writing. Thrusting my emotions aside, I faced Cole.

  “Not kidding. And you owe me.” It was low, calling in an old debt, especially after...everything. But it was true, he did owe me.

  Cole came up off the edge of the desk. In one stride, he was so close I felt the heat from his body through the thin fabric of my long-sleeved tee. His breaths- short, harsh bursts- sent loose tendrils of hair to tickling my forehead. I wanted to take a step back. I didn’t.

  His blue eyes searched mine. I hid nothing. I couldn’t anyway. Cole already knew it all. Well, almost.

  “You promised, Cole.” Nothing could stop me, not my pride. Not even my remorse. “You’ve never broken a promise.”

  “Unlike you.” The venom in his voice hit its mark, piercing my armor just a bit.

  “Yes. Unlike me. You’ve always been better than me, Cole. We both know it.”

  Something flickered in his eyes and I knew without him saying anything that he wanted to refute my claim, but he didn’t. His gaze held mine for a moment more.

  “Talk.” He finally broke away, flopping down on his bed. He stretched out, crossing his ankles and lacing his fingers behind his head on his pillow, staring at the ceiling.

  I sat in his desk chair. “I need you to star in my play.” No sense beating around the bush. Cole’s eyes bulged, and his jaw fell slack.

  I rushed on. “It will be the first dramatic production in more than a decade at the school. I’m reviving the Drama Club.”

  Cole rolled until he sat on the edge of his bed, his elbows propped on his thighs as he leaned over.

  “You. Are. Crazy.” He enunciated each word, his voice growing louder.

  I knew that. But I still needed him. “It’s my play. I wrote it.” I didn’t tell him that I’d written the male lead with him in mind, knowing I would someday be here, asking him to do this. “You’re the only one that can do this, Cole.”

  “Why? Why me?”

  “I need a celebrity-”

  Cole sat back, scoffing.

  “No. I mean it. You’re freaking immune. You can do anything and everyone will think it’s cool. You’re the only guy in school that could pull this off and make my play a success. Just your name on the program will pack the auditorium and you know I’m right.” I watched the wheels turn in his head as he pondered my words.

  “Look, if you agree to this, the rest will follow. Tryouts will be packed with girls wanting to get close to you and guys who want to be as cool as you. Even if you sucked, and we both know you won’t, it wouldn’t matter. They would show up anyway.” Stroking his ego was one strategy.

  Cole folded his arms across his chest, watching me through narrowed eyes. “What do I get out of this? I can get girls without it and I have all the friends I need.”

  So much for the ego tactic. “Humble much?”

  He barked out a laugh. “You just said the same thing.” His eyes were on me again. It was just like before. Like he could see right through me. I hated it.

  “Stop that.”

  He pulled back his chin. “Stop what?”

  Turning away, I paced the small patch of carpet beside his bed. “That thing you do. Trying to figure me out.”

  Cole snorted. “Believe me, if I could figure you out things would be a lot different.”

  I pulled up short, pinning him with a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. What happened to your contacts?” He gestured to my face just as I pushed my glasses back up my nose for the fifth time since entering his room, lifting them just a bit to swipe my nose with my sleeve.

  “I don’t like them,” I answered, averting my gaze when his became too intense. No matter what he thought, he’d always been able to read me and that was exactly what I didn’t need- Cole digging too deep. Cole digging at all.

  “Why are you doing this, Jo? Why’s it so important?” He suddenly looked exhausted.

  “It doesn’t matter, does it? You owe me, remember?” It was petty to keep bringing that up. The debt was a weak reason and we both knew it. But I was counting on our history- the before history- to mean something to him. Preying on his sense of loyalty to the friendship we once shared.

  “I owe you for some grade school pact, huh?” Cole rose to his feet, his six-foot three frame imposing in the small space. His brow furrowed between his blue eyes and as much as I wanted to look away from them, I couldn’t. It hurt. He hurt. I hurt. It was plain in the depths hidden beneath layers of masks we both wore. “What about the last three years, Jo? I’m just supposed to forget about that?”

  I shook my head. “We aren’t going to talk about that.”

  He scoffed, whirling away from me. “You gotta give me more than that. A ten-year-old pact isn’t enough right now. Basketball’s almost over and then I start training. The football scholarship is only good as long as I keep my grades up. I can’t afford to screw around.”

  I bit my lip. This was one thing I knew would come up. Doing my play would be a huge sacrifice for Cole, but I still needed him. “We won’t start rehearsals until after basketball. I just need an agreement that you will play the male lead so I can start auditions for the other roles and get started on sets and costumes. I’ll plan rehearsals around you if I have to.”

  “You still haven’t answered why.” He watched closely.

  Against my will, I glanced at my house, out his window. Of course, he noticed. His face turned to stone. The only sign he wasn’t actually carved from the stuff was a slight tick in his jaw.
It was time to beg.

  “You can do this, Cole. You are perfect for the role. I wrote it for you.” I decided to pull out the big guns. “No one knows how talented you really are. This could be so amazing.” I laid it on thick, my voice soft, appealing.

  His chin dropped to his chest and hope bloomed. He was thinking about it. The war raged within, but at least he was thinking about it.

  “Please. I need this. I have to have it to get out-” I bit my lip to keep from saying more, but it was too late. Cole’s gaze snapped to mine.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. I mean, this play- it’s part of my audition for school. So, I can go to USC in the fall.” Hopefully that would be enough.

  “No. That’s not what I was asking.” His eyes flicked to the window, his jaw hardening once more. “Jo-”

  “Everything is fine, Cole.” I didn’t need his pity. I didn’t need him to save me. Well, I did, just not the way he was thinking.

  I tried not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze and prayed he couldn’t see what laid beneath.

  For a long moment, he stared out the window. I wished I knew what he was thinking. I wished I didn’t know what he was thinking. I wondered if he’d forgotten. I wished I could. Finally, he relented. His shoulders drooped, a gasp of air escaping his lips as he raked his fingers through his hair. “Okay, I’ll do it-”

  “Oh, thank you, thank you!” Before I knew what was happening, I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

  Cole

  Shocked, I did the only thing I could do, I fought my way out of the surprised stupor her impetuous hug inflicted and let my arms snake around her waist. I didn’t know how long it would be before she realized what she had done and pulled away from me. I wasn’t about to squander this opportunity.

  Instinctively, I inhaled. She still smelled the same, like coconut. Memories assaulted me, flashing before my eyes like those old-time cartoons, one page at a time. Memories from before she pushed me away. Swimming in a plastic pool in my backyard. Reading Harry Potter by flashlight during sleepovers when we were supposed to be sleeping. Holding her close when she cried, before I even understood what was wrong. Tickle fights near the end when things would slow, sticky like syrup, until I finally worked up the courage to kiss her.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted, pushing away from me.

  Right.

  That wasn’t us anymore.

  Now we were nothing. Not friends. Not together. Barely neighbors. With a sigh, I backed away from her and ran my hand through my hair. I wanted to pull it out. I wanted to make her talk to me. But I knew from painful experience, Joie wouldn’t tell me anything she wasn’t ready to tell me. I picked up my Calculus book and paper and pencil. She needed to leave.

  She fidgeted with her hands, a sure sign she was nervous. Not my fault. She shouldn’t have hugged me like that. It wasn’t fair.

  “I should go.” She stepped toward the door, her hand reaching for the knob. “You’ll really do it? You won’t back out?”

  “I’ll do it,” I replied, not taking my eyes off the page in front of me I couldn’t even see, not understanding why I was agreeing. I only knew, even now, I would do anything for her. She nodded, the movement visible out of the corner of my eye.

  “Thank you.”

  And then she was gone.

  Us at the Beach

  Blythe

  Do you ever have those days? You know, the ones you never see coming, but they change your life in such a profound way you have to wonder how you could have been so oblivious and easily blindsided? As a relatively unnoticed, virtually invisible, and average sixteen-year-old girl, I didn’t have very many of these days. The first, and probably the most significant so far, was the day I met my best friend Lilly. Being invisible and average has its benefits. Visible and average usually leads to visible, average, and bullied. But since I kept to myself, dressed halfway normal, and possessed equal amounts book smarts and self-preservation skills- I had somehow managed to fly under the radar for the first five years of school.

  It was during that fifth year, however, Mary Mulligan happened. Mary was the biggest kid in all of fourth grade. Boys and girls. Her tangled and matted red hair hung down the back of her too small t-shirt paired with leggings and cast-off boy’s tennis shoes. To be honest, I’d always felt sorry for Mary and wished I knew how to be her friend, but she was danged intimidating and remaining invisible seemed the smarter, if not kinder, route.

  I have no idea why I became visible to Mary that day, but the glares and snickers and spit balls on my desk told me I had. And what had begun as a simmer came to a rolling boil at afternoon recess when Mary stood above me after having pushed me to my knees on the cracked asphalt, watching as the tears welled in my too large hazel eyes.

  And then she appeared. Lilly Harper was as unlike me as any girl could be. Where I had straight brown hair, Lilly had curly golden hair. Where I was tall and skinny, Lilly’s body, even then, promised to be petite and curvy. Where I was shy and bookish, Lilly was outgoing and vivacious. When Lilly spoke, people listened. No one heard me when I screamed. Well, no one except Lilly.

  Lilly shouted in Mary’s face and then she did the bravest thing any kid in our fourth-grade class had ever done- she planted both palms on Mary’s broad shoulders and pushed with all her might. And Mary? Mary, eyes wide as dinner plates- toppled. All because of a pixie.

  And just like that, I had a best friend.

  Like I said, I didn’t have many life altering days in my sixteen years, but that was definitely one of them. Lilly Harper is still my very best friend and the person I texted within five minutes of walking into my backyard two weeks before my junior year of high school after a long day of babysitting a gaggle of hooligans. The day that changed everything.

  It had begun just like any other. I’d rolled out of bed at nine a.m. thankful today would be the last day of my summer babysitting job. I threw on a pair of cut-off jean shorts, a spaghetti strap tank top, and my trusty pair of bright red flip-flops. I yanked a brush through my long brown hair several times before tying it up in a messy bun on the top of my head. All set. It’s not like the Jackson kids care one way or the other if I put on a layer of mascara- or shower. Besides I knew from eight weeks of hard earned experience, I would need a good soak once I got home. Why take two?

  I raced downstairs, pausing only to grab a banana on my way out the door. I was just about to take off down the street on my bike when my mom opened the front door to holler after me.

  “Don’t dawdle on your way home, Blythe. We’re having company for dinner. No detours to Lilly’s.” She pinned me with a knowing look when I opened my mouth to reject her poor opinion of my ability to come straight home.

  I rolled my eyes because I did make detours to Lilly’s on a regular basis. “Fine. I’ll be home right after.”

  I pedaled my bike down the driveway and onto Pine Street, the only street I’d ever lived on. My parents had brought all of us girls here from the hospital. Me sixteen years ago. The twins, Hope and Faith, six years later. And my baby sister, Joy, four years after that. Pine Street was in a nice, middle class neighborhood in central Indiana. My parents weren’t rich or anything, but we got by. My dad worked as an accountant in a firm he owned and operated with his partner, Mr. Lewis.

  At the end of last tax season, Mr. Lewis announced he was tired of the crazy schedule and he would be selling his interest in the accounting firm. Dad took this news hard. He and Mr. Lewis had been partners for the last few years after his last business partner had decided to move to California. Fortunately, Dad informed us last month he might have found a new accountant to take over for Mr. Lewis. I was happy for him. I knew he was stressed about finding someone before things got crazy again.

  Mom, on the other hand, stayed home and ran an Etsy online store. She made little girl clothes and hair accessories which had become popular to the point she had to hire another lady to help with the
sewing. It turned out to be a good thing, because now she could spend more time managing the business and creative aspects of her store.

  Thank goodness, I’d grown too old to be subjected to her cutesy outfits and bows. It was with just a small amount of pity, and a gigantic portion of glee, I watched Faith and Hope try to squirm their way out of the ruffles and lace this last year or so. I didn’t envy them the next couple years of heartbreak they would be inflicting on Mom as they asserted their fashion independence. At least she still had Joy who couldn’t get enough of the color pink and refused to wear anything that didn’t sparkle.

  The Jackson’s lived five blocks over on Cedar Lane. They had three kids- all boys. The oldest, James, was ten like the twins. In fact, I’d hauled my sisters over a couple of times this summer for a fun day of water games in the Jackson’s backyard. The twins can be a huge pain when they want to be, but they can also be a lot of fun and James was in heaven, relishing all that female attention. Next, was Paul. Paul was six and was a prime candidate for juvenile detention. I swear, the only thing that will keep that kid out of jail is his good looks and charm. I never know if I should laugh at him or lock him up in time out. Because of this, I never bring Joy over to play with the Jackson kids. Joy is precocious enough. She doesn’t need encouragement from a first-grade delinquent. The youngest Jackson boy is Michael. Michael is two and the sweetest little dude you’ve ever seen. He has poor eyesight and wears these coke bottle glasses secured on his head with a sporty looking headband. His magnified eyes just kill me every time he smiles up at me.

  I arrived at precisely 9:25. Mrs. Jackson was already running out the door, clad in her usual uniform of yoga pants and a spandex tank. Mrs. Jackson is a fitness instructor. At ten a.m. she leads a Zumba class at the local YMCA. At eleven, it’s water aerobics. Noon, spin. At one, she starts over and is home by 4:30 to relieve me of kid duty.