Hating Him Wanting Him : A Contemporary Romance Collection

by Summer Brooks

  There were times in high school when she even made the trek over to the Howard home, complaining about something Bryant had done to make me cry when I got home from school.

  Nobody had my back the way Mom did. I knew I could always trust her to support me.

  “Hey, Mom, thanks for always being here for me,” I told her, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. I got off the bed and joined her on the carpet, rolling dresses, skirts and underwear into my luggage.

  “I’ll always be here for you,” my mother replied.

  “So… do you mind if I put this YouTube channel on while we pack? It’s like this gossip news vlog about life at Florida. It’s kinda cool, but really bitchy and mean.”

  “Sounds like Mean Girls,” Mom mused. “Sure, put it on.”

  “Meaner than Mean Girls, I’d say.”

  My laptop was on standby so I just tapped on the keyboard, resuming the screen. I had already been watching one of these episodes to begin with.

  Sam had mentioned something about it when she first arrived at college, but I didn’t really register its existence until after I was accepted. Now it was super important for me to get a grasp of how the dynamics were over there — a good journalist always has to be informed, after all.

  The host, Fiona Davis, was this redhead girl who looked exactly like the stereotypical goth girl from a TV sitcom about college. Somehow I had been expecting it would be a preppy, entitled blonde instead, but Fiona could out-mean and out-gossip any preppy blonde.

  “Exposed!” she began at the start of an episode, before the channel’s logo had even appeared. “Looks like a few of the hunks from our beloved Renegades celebrated their dominant victory over Auburn University with a wild party — and main star Mike Liotta’s in trouble. The senior reportedly took a little too much ecstasy at Jadyn Gomez’s party and walked into oncoming traffic… naked! Here are the sordid photos. Censored… but you know where to find the real thing if you just look!”

  Mom and I watched in awe as a huge, hulking guy with a shaved head, easily six-foot-six or something, stood naked while people snapped photos all around him. His crotch was pixelated, of course.

  “Don’t worry, Mom, you don’t need to give me the Don’t Do Drugs talk. I mean, have you even looked at me?” I said.

  “I bet Mike Liotta’s parents thought he was a responsible kid, so who knows…” Mom countered with a frown.

  The photos flashed through. In one shot, Mike actually looked like he was trying to tackle a guy on a scooter. I giggled.

  The screen dissolved back to Fiona. “The good news is this means second-choice quarterback Bryant Howard might cement his place in the team, after his first start this season saw him boss the outfield completely. He made the winning touchdown and led sixteen plays, all of which made sure we all partied hard that night. Although in Mike’s case… a little too hard.”

  I cringed. The video cut to a video of the whole team lifting Bryant over their shoulders, cheering his name on. He grinned and looked exactly like a hero.

  “Douche,” my mother said bitterly.

  Now my cringing face changed into pure delight. “You’re my fave, Mom.”

  “Well, you were never wrong about him. He’s a bully, and a jerk. Douche might have been too harsh. I guess I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head fiercely. “Don’t be, Mom. Let us both say it. Three — two — one…”

  “Douche!” We echoed.

  Fiona was talking about how Bryant was this hot dreamboat with rumors of him being rich as hell, telling girls to all line up and maybe they’d get a chance with the Renegades’ likely new starting quarterback.

  “Yeah, well, I hope you’re not going to be one of those girls,” Mom said, playfully swatting at my arm. “I’d be so disappointed.”

  “No way!” I laughed. “I’d literally rather die than be one of those dumb girls. Like, he’s a football player, whoop de doo, it’s no surprise he’s good at it. But does he have to be there? I mean, like, it’s a good school. They could just focus on the academic side of things. I bet he just wastes all the school’s resources.”

  “He was only trouble in school, anyway. I’m willing to say he hasn’t changed a bit since then. And you know his Dad? Well, Mr. Howard’s a grade-A douche too. I never liked him, and he was always this aggressive asshole to me whenever I thought I’d have a civil parent-to-parent talk about his precious Bryant’s behavior back when, you know, you two were in school.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know much about Mr. Howard, but I’ve heard some stories.”

  “No wonder they got divorced. At least the mother’s nice. Not someone you really ever get close to, she wasn’t anyone’s friend that I could recall, but she knew some manners, at least. Howard Senior was just a dick.”

  “Mom, I don’t know where you got all these sassy insults, but I’m loving it right now,” I said. I hugged my mother again. “Are you trying to be cool just because I’m leaving today?”

  “God, no,” she laughed. “I’m just letting out some steam. And plants don’t really like to be called names. They wilt, they don’t smile the way you do.”

  Now that I thought about it, I was mildly surprised to discover my mother knew so much about the Howard family, but it made sense — with Bryant’s dad being a rich businessman, and Ward Beer being such a major employer both in Indianapolis and in New York, people were bound to hear all sorts of unsavory stories about a guy with that sort of reputation.

  I thought back to the time he and I fought on college acceptance letter day. In hindsight, I felt like making cheap shots about his family was mean, and in another parallel universe I might have even apologized. But in the end, I just shrugged. Sometimes people just aren’t worth that much thought.

  Mom was great. Soon my bags were brought down. I just stayed in bed and texted Regina, and before I knew it I was asleep. By the time it was time for us to leave for the airport, I wasn’t worried about anything anymore.

  We even had our little fast food ritual, turning into the closest outlet before the airport. “So. We’ve got forty-eight nuggets between us. Who wants to bet the one who eats the most is Dad?” I said, leaning over the table.

  “No way,” Dad said, laughing. “Have you seen Eugene’s appetite? Kid’s going to have a growth spurt any day now.”

  It was true. Gene had always been a skinny little kid, but in the last year he was changing right in front of my eyes.

  There was a lot left unsaid between the two of us. For one, I had always suspected he was gay, but I’d recently encountered a few things on my computer when I loaned it to him — and we had a little heart-to-heart about his confusion over his sexuality.

  But we were due a bigger talk about this, because I wanted my brother to know that he could always confide in me, that there was nothing that would break the bond between siblings.

  At the airport, hugging everyone, I promised him we’d have that talk, whispering that I loved him and I’d miss him the most just as Dad helped push my bags towards security.

  “Love you all!” I said, turning back and waving to my family just as I went over to begin my new life in college.

  2

  Bryant

  “Yo, what the hell — this is not okay,” I said, watching in fury as Fiona Davis spent a whole episode talking shit about me and my life.

  I was angry. Just a couple of days after I had practically single-handedly won a big game for the football team, becoming the college man of the hour, Fiona was already taking me down.

  The episode title: Revealed! The Secret Life of Bryant Howard, Billionaire’s Baby Boy.

  The content of the video attacked me as much as the video title and thumbnail (my head was photoshopped on top of a golden statue, fucking great), as she suggested that it was extremely unfair to everyone else that I was this rich boy getting an academic scholarship while everyone else had to bust their asses to pay their way through school.

  She didn’t know me, yet she made these at
tacks. I never understood why I’d had to deal with bullshit like this all my life.

  “You know, the revolution’s coming soon,” Fiona said, her eyes flashing maliciously. “If you’re smart, you’re going to want to rush straight for Bryant Howard’s dorm when the revolution comes. We’ll be able to shake him down for all the money he has. And if you can’t get money, so what? His dad owns Ward Beer, that’s right, the beers you naughty boys and girls have been downing in between drunken rounds of beer pong. Who knows how many kegs we could hold him ransom for?”

  I slammed the laptop shut. “Stupid bitch!” I said.

  Footsteps rushed down the stairs. I didn’t even live in a dorm — my bros and I had a nice little house to ourselves not far from campus. I supposed, yes, this would only make the whole ‘Bryant’s a rich boy’ narrative even stronger, but I was glad that Fiona hadn’t gotten to that.

  It was true that Dad paid for the rental. But it wasn’t a party house. It was just that me and some of my buds from the football team needed a place to crash and applying for student housing was a real pain in the dick sometimes.

  My closest buddy Marvin violently swung my bedroom door open. “For God’s sake, Bryant, that’s my laptop you just slammed down. I knew you would do that. Stop watching those stupid videos. And don’t let Fiona get inside your head.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I told him. “You’re not in the firing line here. I don’t get it. One minute I’m the hero, next I’m just a target.”

  “Well, who told you to be a billionaire’s son?” Marvin grinned. “And who told you to be so goddamn good at football?”

  I matched his grin. Marvin gave me a lot of shit, but I knew he had my back. We had bonded pretty much from day one here at college, and it felt like fate that we were both so into football. Now he was the starting defensive lineman, the biggest, heaviest, toughest bad boy on our team. I was awkwardly making my way onto the starting lineup, especially since Mike Liotta failed in his appeal against the disciplinary action that just dog-piled him after that unfortunate druggy streaking he did.

  “Yo, stop smashing my laptop. Can’t you just, like, make your dad buy you one specifically to toss around? You know he’s got the money.”

  I winced. Even though I knew Marvin had his heart in the right place, his Daddy’s boy comments sometimes came off really abrasive to me.

  But that was the bro atmosphere we had going on in this house. Just because I paid for everyone’s rent — well, my father did — didn’t mean they weren’t going to give me shit. If anything, it made them more likely to do that, constantly ragging on me and bossing me around.

  “Don’t think you’re the star here,” Tyrone Turner, one of our other roommates, said. He was a junior, and he had seniority in the Renegades compared to Marvin and me.

  My phone was ringing, but I ignored it. I didn’t even need to know who was calling. Samantha, I could just tell.

  She was starting to get on my nerves — she was hot, sure, and I really liked that we understood each other a lot better because we both came from the same part of the world compared to all these other kids, but like, I wished she would just leave me alone sometimes.

  “Girl needs to chill out,” Marvin nodded, noticing the way I ignored the phone on my bed. “Hey, how about this? Since you slammed my laptop, I can toss your phone out a window.”

  “Fuck off, Marvin,” I laughed. “You’re such a tough guy, huh? How’s that, when you’ve got the nerdiest name ever?”

  My buddy laughed. Nobody would sass someone his size. He was bigger than even I was, and that was saying something. I felt like he was Andre the Giant reborn or something. How did someone get so huge? He was even bigger than Liotta, the poor guy. Should have known better than to mess with Ecstasy.

  “What are you gonna do about that girl, bro?” Marvin said, coming into my room to take his laptop. “And please tell me you didn’t use my laptop for porn.”

  “I don’t need porn,” I laughed at him. “I’m not like you. I get laid all the time, okay.”

  “Getting laid so much that you’re ignoring her calls?”

  “Shut up, Marvin,” I rolled my eyes. “And no, I don’t use your laptop for porn. I’m a DVD man.”

  “Liar,” he laughed. “Question still stands.”

  “I don’t know, bro. I’m going to have to break up with her or something. It’s awkward as fuck. Lots of girls are into me, but I’m with Sam, right? And instead of being chill about it, she’s become clingy as fuck. I’m getting really annoyed.”

  “Wow, you’re going to break up with someone for liking you? Ruthless.”

  I shrugged. “Coach Frost is going to kill me if I let some personal bullshit get in the way of being the best quarterback this team’s ever seen. This is just me taking his advice.”

  “Yeah, about that,” Marvin nodded. “Coach Frost told me to tell you that I think he’s looking for you. Wants to have a word. No idea what it’s about.”

  “I know what it’s about,” I sighed, slamming my fists on my bed. “That stupid Fiona Davis video.”

  “Chill out, bro.”

  “Like I said, easy for you to say when you’re not the one being targeted just because your deadbeat dad that you’re trying to distance yourself from is a billionaire. It’s not even like I spend much of his money,” I said.

  “Well, you still spend some of it. And when he offers, you don’t turn it down,” Marvin pointed out.

  I dropped back, pressing my back into my mattress. I thought about this hot physiotherapy student who slipped me her number the other night. I probably shouldn’t have thrown it away, but Sam was watching.

  Not that I was thinking about messing around — not until I actually got out of this messy as fuck relationship I had going on with her.

  “Coach Frost is going to ride my ass and you’re just here telling me I deserve it because I let my dad pay for the house you live in rent-free. Great, Marvin. You’re a true friend.”

  The defensive lineman grinned. “What, you want me to show you some gratitude? Maybe cook you breakfast in bed? You want pancakes? Bacon? A blowjob?”

  I reached for a pillow behind me and threw it at him, impressing even myself with the force in which I shot it. He didn’t react fast enough, and the pillow — the firmest one of the four I kept in bed — knocked him back a couple of steps.

  “Jesus, Bryant, that hurt!” he said, flinging the pillow back at me. It missed, bouncing impotently back at his feet. “You’re a dick, bro.”

  “I’ll have the pancakes and the bacon,” I chuckled. “Since you’re offering.”

  “Fuck you, Howard,” he said, shaking his head with a smile. “Don’t know how anyone could be your friend if not for you having all that money. Maybe Fiona was right. We should redistribute all that wealth, huh? Get me a lifetime’s supply of Ward Special IPA.”

  He walked off, leaving me alone in my room. At least interacting with my teammate left me in higher spirits than before. I could forget about Fiona, but I was tempted to show up to one of her tapings and just tell her to stop being such a bitch.

  Of course, I knew how loaded that word was. Florida had a pretty activist student population. I knew that I couldn’t just say that out loud and not get in trouble. Hell, even Coach Frost would give me a hard time. But she deserved it.

  My family was nobody else’s business. I was right to be defensive about this. I had seen the damage the divorce had done to my family, when my mom got out of the marriage with hardly any of the marital assets, thanks to Dad sending his team of lawyers out to harass her.

  The way I saw it, using his money was an act of justice. Better him spending it on me than on his glamorous second family.

  I had to protect my reputation now. The honest truth was, and even I could admit it, I was struggling here at college. It was hard juggling classes and football, even with the sort of free reign a guy like me with clear NFL potential had. I was missing assignments, I was barely focusing in most c
lasses, and Coach Frost even doubted whether I was best used as a quarterback, suggesting he might shift me to a different position, just because I hadn’t dazzled him.

  The big game against Auburn last week should have dispelled all those concerns. First of all, Coach Frost should’ve had to eat his hat. I was the best quarterback he had, way better than Mike Liotta, and now that Liotta was out, I couldn’t see what the coach had against me that would have him freeze me out of the team.

  It was a different standard, of course. College football was way tougher than even the state championship I clinched for Broad Ripple back in high school. I was the best player by far there, single-handedly changing the fate of games just through my raw potential.

  Meanwhile, the Renegades were so packed with talent I’d be surprised if I was even in the top five most talented players.

  I missed high school. I missed how clear everything was, how I knew my place in the world. I was the star football player. I was the alpha dog. That didn’t mean there wasn’t competition, or that I couldn’t handle it — It just meant that there was no room for doubt.

  I couldn’t afford to be alone with my thoughts anymore. Like I said, there was no room for doubt. I knew all about my talent, and I had worked my ass off to get to this level. Now that the starting spot was mine, I wasn’t going to let some stupid video or some bullshit drama drag me down.

  Coach Frost wasn’t going to meet some meek version of me. He was going to meet confident and ready Bryant, me at my very best. If he thought I was rattled by any of that nonsense, he was wrong.

  I walked downstairs, stretching my arms above my head as I did. Marvin sat on the couch, texting some girl he was trying to hook up with, no doubt. I came behind him and patted the back of his head. “Any luck?”

  “I’m trying, I’m trying.”

  “You know what, I was just thinking, I miss being in high school,” I confessed to him.