Hate to Love You

by Isabelle Richards

  “Pop came back a while ago and told me your dad bailed on you. I didn’t want you to be alone,” he says, his voice groggy.

  “But you’ve barely spoken to me in almost two months.”

  His body tenses, and he pulls one of his arms away. He wipes his eyes, waking up a little. “I’m mad at you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.” He looks at the clock and sees how early it is. His head crashes back on the pillow. “You should go back to sleep.”

  “Did your dad tell you to come down?”

  He shifts, trying to get comfortable again. “No. I came because I wanted to. Had I known Aiden was off on a bender, Charlie and I would have been here yesterday.”

  I don’t get it. I don’t get him. He ices me out at Christmas, and I’m just supposed to believe that he cares? My brain tells me to turn the lights on and have it out with him, but I can’t find the strength. Having him here feels so good, and I feel so safe in his arms. I’ve needed this all day, and as stupid as it may be, I can’t push him away. We lie in silence for what feels like forever. I can tell by his breathing that he isn’t asleep. It isn’t tense or awkward though. It’s soothing. Somehow, being entangled with him abates my grief.

  “Thank you for being here,” I say quietly.

  “Ari, we may fight all the time, and most days I despise you, but you have always been and probably always will be a part of me. I’d never just stand by while you’re in pain. No matter how mad I am at you, I’ll always be there for you.”

  I don’t know what to do with that. He said something similar that night, and it blew my mind then too. I’ve always thought he relished in my torment. He’s the last person I expected to want to ease my pain. It shouldn’t surprise me though. All in all, he’s a very good person, just not always to me.

  “Plus,” he says, “you’re probably the only girl in the world I can be in bed with without my parents flipping out. I can’t pass up on that opportunity.”

  “Oh, they’d flip if they knew. They’d be worried which one of us was coming out alive,” I joke back.

  “Ari, don’t overthink it.” He kisses the top of my head. “Just let me be here for you. Don’t make it more than it is.”

  Did he really just say that? What an idiot I am! I actually thought he was here to support me when I needed it. No, apparently he’s just trying to cop a feel when he has a free pass to my bed. I sit up and throw back the blankets. If looks could kill, Chase would be shot dead and backed over by a car for good measure. “What do you mean ‘make it more than it is’?”

  He groans. “And so it begins.” He flips onto his side. “Is it impossible to share a nice moment without shattering it? Jesus, Ari, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I jump out of bed and put on my bathrobe. “Chase, this isn’t a good idea. You should just go home.”

  He jumps out of bed and stalks toward me. “Are you fucking kidding me? Really Arianna? You’re going to push me away now? When we both know you need me?”

  “Well, I don’t want to make it more than it is, like I’m some stupid girl you hooked up with but don’t want her to think that it actually meant something. And ‘need’? Really? We both know I will never need you.”

  His fists clench the sheets. “Arg! Don’t be such a girl! That’s not what I meant!” He turns away and runs his fingers through his hair. I can tell he’s trying to regain his composure when he sits on the edge of the bed. “Don’t make me the bad guy here. I’m not the one who ran. If it actually meant something to you, you’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

  His words sting like a slap in the face. I want to yell back, but I can’t. I did run. I ignored every call and text. I didn’t even try to say anything to him in Hawaii. Granted, he bolted from the room before I had the chance to open my mouth, but I wouldn’t have even if he had stayed. I didn’t know what to do, so I froze.

  I sit next to him. Unsure of what to say, I say nothing. Instead, I take his hand and slide back on the bed. He follows suit and lies next to me. He’s tense—I can feel the frustration and anger radiating off him—but he slowly relaxes. Once the rigidity dissipates, he runs his fingers through my hair, playing with the curls.

  “We’re going to need to talk about it at some point. We can’t ignore it forever,” he says.

  “I don’t know if I can talk about it.”

  He pauses, then resumes playing with my hair. “You’ve never been able to hold back with me before. This is no different. Pretend we’re talking about the war, or abortion, or the dh.”

  I gently slap his stomach. “The dh is essential for baseball, and you know it.”

  He chuckles. “I totally disagree. It corrupts the game. But while you’re talking to me, why don’t you tell me why you didn’t return any of my calls or texts.”

  How do I explain when I don’t really understand it myself? I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Maybe we should pretend it never happened.”

  He pulls away, dropping the strand of hair he was twirling. My back feels a chill from the loss of his embrace.

  “Was it that bad Arianna? Do you regret it that much?”

  I hear the hurt in his voice, and I feel as if I’m being gutted. I haven’t thought about how this is making him feel. I honestly thought he hadn’t given it a second thought. “I don’t regret it at all.”

  “Then why would we forget it?”

  I don’t know what to tell him. I don’t want to hear the pain in his voice. For once, I care that I’m the cause. But I don’t know how to fix this, how to move forward. I turn away and close my eyes, praying for a way out of this mess.

  He gently pushes on my shoulder and hovers above me. “Arianna? Why should we forget it if you don’t regret it?”

  I try to avoid his glare, but he has me trapped underneath him. I could knee him in the crotch and push him away, but that would just be running away again. I’ve never backed down from anything before, so why am I starting now? “We’re complicated. Very complicated. Christ, we need a referee to order take-out. I never imagined my first time would be with someone who thinks the sound of my voice is like nails on a chalkboard.”

  “I’ve never said that.”

  “Yes, you have. A million times.”

  “Okay, so maybe I have. But this is different,” he insists. “Something changed that night, and I thought you felt it too. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. I don’t sleep with just anyone, you know.”

  I scoff. I know for a fact that’s not true. “I don’t want to be a notch in your bedpost. I don’t want to be just another in the long line of Chase Brennan groupies. I’d rather forget it than feel inconsequential.”

  He cups my cheek and looks me squarely in the eyes. “Arianna Aldrich, it is impossible for you to be inconsequential. You couldn’t be ordinary if you tried. You’re a game changer. Once you enter someone’s life, everything else seems trivial and paltry in comparison. You could never be confused with the Brennan Babes.” He winks. “You hate me too much.”

  That’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me. I think. But he didn’t say I’ve changed his life. He said “someone” but not him. What does that mean? Am I reading too much into it? God, I hate this confusing, emotional crap! There’re no rules, no standards by which I can figure out what the hell is going on. Too much freaking gray area.

  His brows furrow when I don’t respond. He pulls away. “It was your first time. You’re never going to forget it, no matter how much you’d like to.”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  A smile crosses his face, and the tension releases from his shoulders. “I don’t mean like that. Well, I kind of mean it like that. But all kidding aside, it’s part of your timeline. Just like you remember your first match and the first time you won a tournament. It’s there forever. You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “Eww, you mean I’m stuck with you as a permanent fixture on my life history?” I joke.

  He lightly
smothers me with a pillow, making me laugh until it hurts. He finally lets up and looks at me. “You freaked and you ran, is that what you’re telling me happened?”

  I don’t answer.

  The humor drains from his face as tension fills his body. “Answer me, Arianna. Otherwise I’ll believe you iced me out just to hurt me. The fucked up way that you and I are, always hurting each other, it would be right out of your playbook. If that’s what you were trying to do, mission fucking accomplished.”

  “I promise, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I freaked, and I ran.”

  He tilts my chin up so that I have to face him. “I don’t know what happens next with this. It’s hard to wrap my head around. But don’t do that again, okay? Nothing good’ll come from running. As we saw, it just escalates and gets out of control.”

  “I hear you.” I feel as though I should offer more apologies or assurances, but the words escape me. I’m a novice with all of this, and I don’t understand the rules or expectations. I don’t speak this language, especially not with him.

  He holds up his hands. “I’ll ease up. You don’t need this today on top of everything else.” He wraps his arms around me tightly and kisses my forehead.

  I lean into his embrace and fall right back to sleep.

  A few hours later, I wake, still in his arms. I don’t want to open my eyes and face the day. I’m so snug and secure cradled in his arms. I never feel this serene and protected, and I don’t want to let go of the feeling.

  “You awake?” he asks. “I thought I’d better wake up first so you can’t ditch me while I’m sleeping this time.”

  Peaceful moment derailed. I open my eyes to see him staring at me with a playful smirk across his face. “Way to bring that up right out of the gate, Brennan. Good morning to you too.”

  “Sorry,” he says before he kisses me. “With you, baby, I just can’t help myself.”

  “Baby?” Terms of endearment coming from his mouth just seem unnatural.

  “I know, sounds weird, right? Glad I’m not the only one who thought that was odd.”

  We both laugh. It’s comforting to not be the only one who finds this bizarre. When the laughter ends, the room feels full of tension. My head is resting on his shoulder, and the rest of my body is draped over him. He runs his fingers up and down my arms. We keep looking at each other, unsure of what to say or do next. This is uncharted territory.

  Chase

  What the hell am I doing here? We talked and cleared the air, sort of. I still have no idea what she wants. Was that night a one-time fluke? Did our hormones get out of control, or does she actually have feelings for me? I can read most girls like a book, but Arianna… I have no idea what she’s thinking. I used to know her every thought before she had it, but now that we’ve slept together, I’d get a better reading with a Magic 8 Ball than with my instincts.

  Her eyes could be saying, “Take me now,” or just as easily saying, “I hate your guts.” I just can’t tell. Lust and hate look too damn similar. If I thought asking her would get me anywhere, I’d throw it out there, but getting her to say anything has been like pulling teeth. If I ask anything more, she might push me away again. Or worse, she might tell me she hates my guts. The fact that the possibility of her rejecting me hurts scares the shit out of me.

  I’ve barely been able to sleep. I spent the last few hours just watching her. I’ve seen her practically every day of my life, but looking at her now is like seeing her for the first time. She’s stunning in her short shorts and T-shirt that exposes her abs, so tanned and toned. I’m one of the lucky ones who gets to see her completely natural—no makeup, no fancy clothes, just her. Words can’t express how beautiful she is, but now I’m seeing more. Another layer to her, I guess. She was vulnerable last night and didn’t know what to do about it. Just like that night, when she showed me a part of her that no one else had seen. I’m not sure what it means, but I want more. I can’t just go back to the way things were.

  She looks at the clock and groans. “You’re going to be late for school.”

  “I don’t care.” I’m not ready to let her go yet.

  She wipes the sleep from her eyes. “Thank you for coming over and staying last night. It was good to wake up with you. Weird, but good.”

  I smirk as I toggle through my dirty thoughts, trying to pick one that won’t get me slapped.

  “Don’t get a big head, Brennan. I would have been just fine without you too.”

  I pull her ass into me. “Oh, it’s too late for that.” If she picks up on my double entendre, she doesn’t let on.

  “We’re having a nice moment. Try not to spoil it,” she says with a smirk.

  Her grin is so sexy. I’ve laid with her in my arms all night and been a perfect gentleman, and I don’t want to fuck this up, but I can’t fight it any longer. I cup her face and kiss her. I’m not trying to take this anywhere, but I can’t be with her for another moment without connecting with her. She pushes her body against mine. I feel her nipples rubbing my chest, and that makes it impossible for me to be a gentleman. My hands move from her arms to running up and down the length of her back. It takes everything I have to stop at the small of her back.

  She opens her mouth slightly, allowing my tongue to caress hers. Her soft moan threatens my control. My hands slip underneath her tank top, allowing me to caress her soft skin. When I run my hands up her back, my fingertips fan out to graze the sides of her breasts. When I touch her, she whimpers, almost begging me to keep exploring.

  As much as every part of me wants to take her right here and now, I know her father is just down the hall, and he probably has the mother of all hangovers. This isn’t the day to get caught screwing his daughter. I pull away. “I’d better get home before this gets out of hand.”

  She looks disappointed but doesn’t say anything.

  The look of rejection on her face breaks my heart. “What if your dad wakes up? This isn’t the day to take that risk. Could you imagine the nuclear fallout if he caught us?”

  She nods but doesn’t look convinced. “You’re right. It’s smarter to stop.”

  “To be continued?” I ask, trying to get a sense of where she thinks this thing with us is going.

  “I guess we’ll see,” she says in a flirty tone. “I fly out tonight. I have a match in Chile.” She grimaces. “On clay. My least favorite surface.”

  “Until next time then,” I reply, disappointed.

  Her eyes roll up as if she’s mentally going through her calendar. “I think in March the family is coming to back-to-back tournaments. Um… the one in Indian Wells outside Palm Springs, then Miami. I’m not sure if you’re planning on going with everyone or not.”

  Typically, it’s fifty/fifty if I go on those trips. It usually depends on where the tournaments are and if I have something else going on. This time, maybe I’ll go. “Maybe I’ll find a way to steal you away for a bit.”

  “I’m sure we can work something out,” she replies.

  An uncontrollable smile spreads across my face. In an attempt to not look over eager, I plant a chaste kiss on her lips, detangle myself, and escape to the bathroom.

  When I come out, she’s sitting up, stretching. Yoga clearly does wonders for her body. “Hey, have you told anyone? About what happened, I mean.”

  “No. I honestly don’t know what I would have said. I was so confused by everything.” No guy wants to admit he slept with a girl who bolted on him.

  She bends over and grabs her toes. “I’m thinking we should keep it that way.”

  I have to turn away to hide my disappointment. I thought she didn’t regret it. Why hide it?

  “With our track record,” she continues, “I would hate to drag everyone else into it. You know, if things get… messy.”

  My sister would kill me if I broke her best friend’s heart, and vice versa. I don’t love this plan, but it’s probably for the best. Seconds later, Aiden knocks on the door and comes in. His eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and h
e’s walking as though he may still be drunk. He smells as though he’s still drunk. He staggers toward me. I swallow hard, not sure what’s going through Aiden’s mind right now. He stands in front of me with clenched fists.

  He puts his arm around me and pulls me into him. “Thanks for watching over my little girl. You’re a good kid.”

  “Anytime, Aid,” I say with relief.

  Aiden whispers, “I hope it wasn’t too awful. I know how you two get with each other.”

  Trying not to burst out laughing, I say, “We managed okay. No bloodshed.”

  He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I can always count on you.”

  He looks at me with respect, faith, and trust. How would he feel if he knew the truth? Keeping this a secret is definitely the best decision. Whatever I have with Ari could put my relationship with Aiden in jeopardy, and that scares the piss out of me. Aiden’s on par with my parents—I can’t fathom how I would feel if I let him down, and fucking his daughter would most certainly qualify as letting him down. My parents wouldn’t blink an eye if they found out. Knowing my mother, she’d start planning our wedding. But Aiden would mutilate me and hang me on his wall as a warning to all future suitors.

  Aiden pulls away and walks to the bed. He and Ari haven’t said a word, but the emotional exchange between them is intense.

  Wanting to give them privacy, I say, “I’d better get home. See you later, guys.” I wink at Arianna as I walk out of her bedroom.

  When I go to open the front door, I realize I left my cell in her room. I walk back, but I’m stopped by the sound of sobs coming from her room. They aren’t Arianna’s. I can get my cell phone later.

  Chapter Eight

  Arianna

  “Lamm? Are you there?” Henrik’s smiling face comes across my laptop.

  I can’t help but smile back. He’s perpetually happy, and it’s infectious. “When are you going to stop calling me that?”

  When Henrik and I were in Tasmania after climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro last year, a shepherd offered him all his newborn lambs in exchange for my hand in marriage. Henrik thinks the nickname is adorable. I despise it, which he thinks is even more adorable.