HATE ME AGAIN: a bad boy romance novel

by Jaxson Kidman

  I hated that man so much. And I loved him just the same. I never thought that being complicated would be an attraction. It turned me on that he was such a mystery. It made me mad he wouldn’t tell me everything about Kate. And I couldn’t stop thinking about the entire story and the truth.

  I slid my finger into the envelope.

  “Violet, are you hungry?”

  I looked back and saw Davis standing in the doorway. “Yeah. Sure.”

  “I’ll order something for us. My treat.” He lifted a fresh glass of scotch.

  I put my dirty clothes in my hamper and tucked the envelope into one of my drawers.

  Hours later, Davis passed out from the scotch. He drank more than I thought he could possibly handle. I had to all but carry him to the bed. I plopped him down and got a towel and a trashcan just in case.

  I then sat on the edge of the bed and considered everything in my life. The tornado of a mess that it had become. The only thing secure was my bank account, and I’d gladly give all that up to have Dad healthy and have Mason back in my life.

  Glancing to my right, I realized that maybe Mason was back in my life. He’d given me a letter to read.

  I looked back at Davis.

  Yeah, I felt guilty. I felt shitty. I let things get out of control. I lost my way and forgot to manage my feelings and emotions. I let Davis step back into an old role that didn’t exist, but I pretended it did exist.

  Maybe I was like Mason. Maybe I wanted Davis to hate me. Maybe that was the way to do things.

  I walked to the dresser and took out the envelope.

  I knew whatever was in the letter was going to change things.

  But I needed to know…no matter how much pain it caused…

  The apartment wasn’t that big so there really wasn’t a comfortable place to be. Then again, it was my apartment, paid in full for a year, and yet I felt like an intruder.

  I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. It was a little past midnight. To me that was when Mason was getting his night started. Out at a bar. Buying drinks for some flirty blonde who was sipping a sugary drink. Then he’d take her home. He’d tell her everything she wanted and needed to hear.

  It angered me. It made me jealous.

  I opened the envelope, took out a piece of paper, and unfolded it.

  Sure enough, it was a letter from Mason. A handwritten one.

  There was something wildly beautiful about a hunk of a man like Mason handwriting his letters. His hand was sloppy but it fit his personality. I almost hated myself for finding dumb reasons to fall for him some more.

  Violet -

  This is getting written a couple days after you left. And remember that—you left. I can’t blame you, though. A piece of my past came crashing through. A piece I hadn’t revealed to you just yet. You can hate me for that, I accept it. But what you don’t know…is the entire truth. As innocent and helpless and you played your cards you were vicious to my heart and what I was creating for myself.

  I was supposed to do nothing but waste time, live in pain and regret, and then fade out into the blackness of nothing that waits at the end of life. Except now you fucking showed me there’s light all around. I think of blaming you most of the time, Violet. You kept coming to me. I made it very clear that I was going to hurt you. I was going to destroy you. I was going to steal your innocence. Savor that cherry while I took good care of it. I’d be nothing but a memory to you.

  The fucked up part…is that it all came true. Without me even really trying. I had put my guard down and everything fell apart. There’s so much you don’t know and I know you want to know it. This isn’t a matter of trust for me, Violet. You need to know that. This is a matter of who I am and what I do in my life. Nothing will be the same after you. You’ve created this invisible scar that I can feel burning, stinging, throbbing all hours of the night. There will never be enough whiskey, never another beautiful woman like you. Now my journey to waste time puts me on two paths.

  To forget you. To make Kate forget me.

  I can only hope you have forgotten me…but we both know that’s impossible. You want to save the world, Violet. You want all the puppies to find a home. You want all the sad people to stop being sad. You want to understand the right and wrong and twist it up and turn it into something beautiful. I fucking hate that about you…yet I love it about you.

  The thing is—you can’t save me, Violet. You want me to spill all this truth on you. You want the entire story of Mason. But why? So you could say you heard it? So you could say you stuck around? Because we know sometimes the truth sits like a goddamn boulder on your back. And the only way to get relief is to pass it to someone else for a minute.

  You know who I am. I’ve never lied to you, Violet. Maybe there were things I never told you, but that was only so you wouldn’t get hurt worse. I set out to destroy you but I fell in love with you. If I wanted you out, I could have made that happen easily. But I wanted you in. I wanted to hold you. I wanted to keep loving you. I wanted to explore the other side of the tracks that had been ruined for me a long time ago.

  But you left.

  And of all the pieces I shared with you, you knew that while Kate is a phantom, she also left me. She was here one day and then she was fucking gone. I made a promise to write to her. To keep writing to her. To wonder if my words could somehow bring her back. To see if fate was something true or not.

  Fate is a fucking joke. It’s a word we make up when we don’t understand the control we have over our own reality. I know my control. I know what I’m capable of. What I didn’t expect was what you were capable of, Violet. You want it? It’s all right here. But you walked away. You saw a crack in the sidewalk and didn’t just think it would break your mother’s back…you thought it would kill her. So you crossed the street, left town, and never looked back.

  Me?

  I’m as real as I’ve ever been.

  I’m going to find a way to cover up my pain and the invisible scar you’ve left. I can swallow pain down and let it burn in the fire in my stomach. You’ll never understand that though. You’ll burn. I know you will. And if you ever have the chance to read this letter, I know you’re still burning. Squirming in your chair or on the floor. Your face getting red hot with a mix of anger and wonder about me. Considering if it's worth throwing your entire goddamn life out the window for a prick like me. And you know what? This isn’t some fucking romance movie where I take my noble stand. It’s reality. I will always be the same. The one you met. The one you let fuck you before the rest of the world could ever get to you. The one you loved. The one you still love.

  You’re going to get pissed that I didn’t come after you, right? I bet you want to know why. I bet it drives you fucking insane. I bet it hurts. But more than anything else, I bet you know why I didn’t chase after you and I bet you blame yourself.

  Which you should.

  You left, Violet.

  Reality is fucking harsh sometimes.

  You know who I am. You know where I am.

  I just hope what I know about you is actually the truth.

  Mason

  I folded the letter and tucked it into the envelope. Then I began to rip it up. I needed it in pieces that could never be put back together.

  Maybe just like Mason and me.

  9

  Finally - A Good Slap

  (Mason)

  I touched the leather seat of the motorcycle. The smell of the newness was overpowering but in a good way. I must have walked two miles in circles around the fucking thing, rubbing my chin, running my hand through my hair. The guys were all behind me, waiting for the final call.

  The paint job was perfect. Neon green flames with white skulls, eye sockets with a fade green in each. Not exactly the kind of motorcycle and custom job I would have wanted personally, but that was the best part of this job. It was about finding out what the customer wanted.

  “This is perfect,” I said.

  There was a collective sigh thro
ugh the garage. I heard the guys slap hands together. I glanced back and saw them hugging.

  I looked over at Hunter, who had a big grin on his face. I curled my lip, secretly throwing him the middle finger, then I set my eyes back to the ride.

  It had been brought in in really rough shape. Truthfully, it was close to being nothing but a junker. But the client—a guy named James—had a budget of whatever. Now for some guys, that would have given them a boner. They would take the guy for all he was worth because he had an emotional attachment to the ride. It was his father’s motorcycle, and his father died when he was ten. Me, I wanted to make the motorcycle beautiful and something that could be passed along to James’s kids.

  Hunter pointed to the lot and James was on his way in, driving a flatbed truck, ready to take his new wheels home.

  I had done a lot of projects, and I had seen some tears here and there, but this guy was weeping. He put an arm around each me and Hunter and wept like he’d just heard the best news of his life.

  I had to back away at one point and let Hunter bear the brunt of the bear hug. After all, it was his company now. Not mine. I was just a lowly worker trying to rub a few pennies together to make a nickel appear.

  “James, thank you,” Hunter said. “For your story and the opportunity to bring this to life.”

  “No. Thank you. Both of you. Mason, I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time. And what you’ve done…the amount you’ve charged me is not enough.”

  “Yes it is,” I said.

  “Yes,” Hunter said. “You need to just take this motorcycle home and ride it.”

  “Amen,” I said and put my hands together with a grin.

  My long hair fell forward, and I had to tuck it back behind my ear. If James had met me a year ago, he would have found me with a shaved head, scruff on my face, and no ink showing.

  James cut a check on the spot, adding a few extra hundred dollars to it.

  “That’s for your guys,” James said. “Take them for drinks or something.”

  We shook hands, and I nodded to James. “Remember us if you need anything else.”

  “Of course.”

  James broke into tears again once the motorcycle was loaded up into his truck.

  When he left, Hunter turned to me. “We make a good team.”

  “We always made a good team,” I said. “Just as long as you stay out of my fucking personal business.”

  “That I won’t do,” Hunter said. He reached into his pocket and took out a check. “This is for you. From me. From the company.”

  “What the fuck is this?”

  It was a check. For a few grand.

  “For your work,” Hunter said. “You deserve a return on your new investment.”

  I ripped the check up and flicked it at Hunter. “I don’t want it. I’m doing fine. Keep the shop growing.”

  “Mason…”

  “I’m done for the day. I’ll catch you on the flip, brother.”

  “Yeah. See you.”

  I went through the garage and thanked the guys for their work. Then I got on my ride and skipped the bar, skipped the coming night life, skipped all that bullshit. I had a one-track mind, and that was to get the fuck home.

  It was like something burned in me to get there.

  Little did I know I’d find Violet at my apartment, waiting for me.

  “Are you lost?” I asked as I approached her. “Because if you don’t remember, you moved out of your apartment and this building. You took all your shit and left.”

  I stood with just inches between us, waiting for her to say something.

  To do something.

  What I didn’t expect was a slap across the face.

  And I had to hand it to her, she finally got a good one on me.

  Violet slapped me so hard the sound echoed through the hall. I took a step back, sucked in a breath to mask the pain, and I thought I saw a few twinkling stars for a second.

  I touched my cheek and looked over at Violet. She was holding her hands, crying.

  Actually crying.

  Now, don’t get me wrong…a crying woman does nothing for me. Okay? You’re in my bed, you’re naked, we’re finished, I say go the fuck home, don’t start crying. It does nothing but make you look sad and pathetic. But this was Violet. She broke all the rules, she was above all the rest, and if she cried, someone needed to get their ass kicked.

  That someone was me.

  “Fuck, babe,” I said. “You got me good at least.”

  She looked at me, tears running down her cheeks. “Well that makes everything worth it, then.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. She was fucking radiant. If we could just strip away the outside bullshit, we’d be perfectly fine.

  “Come inside for a minute,” I said.

  “Is there some whore in your bed?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  “I hate you.”

  “I know you do, babe. That’s why you’re here, right?”

  Violet didn’t answer, but she did come inside. Just that small gesture alone had me reeling on the inside. I made tight fists for a few seconds, trying not to think about taking her to the bedroom and having my way with her. Just like it used to be.

  I walked to the freezer and got an icepack. I wrapped it up in a towel and gave it to her.

  “To calm your hand down,” I said. “I’m sure your boyfriend will want to know why your hand is all fucked up. Right?”

  Violet swallowed hard.

  “Or would you lie to him? Well, then again, does he even know about me? So, if you’re already lying and hiding me, then let me hide you for a few minutes. Right back in bed. Chase all that pain and worry away, babe.”

  I stepped toward her and she stepped back.

  Cat and mouse. Okay, babe, let’s play…

  “I read your letter,” she finally said.

  “Okay. Did you tell your boyfriend? Let him read it?”

  “I destroyed it.”

  “That’s probably a smart move. No evidence.”

  “I destroyed it because I wish I never saw it,” she spat. “I wish you never gave it to me. I wish you never fucking wrote it, Mason.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have come to my apartment and bothered me. Not then, not now, not a long time ago.”

  “Look at you,” Violet said. “Who are you? Why…” She shook her head. “No. I didn’t come here for this.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “To slap you,” she said.

  “You did that. And you drove all that way for that? What did you tell your boyfriend? Huh? Did you lie about a business meeting?”

  “Fuck you, Mason.”

  “Bedroom’s behind you.”

  “Don’t be like that. Your tough-guy act doesn’t work on me anymore.”

  “Oh, it doesn’t?” I asked. I stepped toward her again. I touched her waist. “I think it does. I think that’s why you’re here. You read the letter. You want to know more. You want to know everything. Still.”

  “Is that so wrong? I cared about you to want to know. So I could understand you. And you broke my heart.”

  “Correction, Violet. You broke your own heart. If you stick your hand into a fire, do you get mad at the fire or yourself?”

  Violet grabbed my hands and pushed them away. “Don’t question me. Don’t question my boyfriend, either. You’re just acting jealous. Like you’ve done before.”

  I laughed. “Jealous. Right. I don’t get jealous, babe. I move on.”

  “So you’ve moved on?”

  “Want to check my bed for one-night-stands?”

  I saw her hand ready to swing again. I grabbed it before anything could happen. I had her by the wrist and lifted her hand, palm up. I stared down at the lines on it. I took my pointer finger and started to trace the lines.

  “You know, I can read palms…”

  “What?”

  I looked at Violet. I had her locked on me.

  Fuck, I was alm
ost happy in that moment.

  “I can read palms. Tell you your future. What you love. Hate. All that.”

  “Liar,” she said.

  I ran my finger to the center of her palm and stopped. “See…right here…this spot on your hand is missing my cock. Missing trying to grip it tight. Waiting for my hot-”

  “Scum,” Violet growled as she ripped her hand away.

  She was still gripping the ice pack with her other hand. And she held the hand I had been touching out still, like she wanted me to keep going.

  “Boyfriend,” I said.

  “You keep going back to that. You’re jealous.”

  “Whatever you say. Is there an actual point of you being here?”

  “The letter,” she said. “You want me to be the bad guy? I won’t. I fell in love with you, Mason. I don’t give a shit what you said to me about hurting me. You think that makes it all okay? It doesn’t.”

  “I never lied.”

  “You never told me you had a wife.”

  “You never asked.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that something I should ask everyone I date?”

  “Did you ask your current boyfriend?”

  “Fuck you,” Violet said again. “Davis is not married.”

  Davis.

  Davis?

  DAVIS.

  Now I stepped back.

  Davis.

  The prick she dated back in high school who tried to force her into having sex. The prick who confused her, hurt her, then went off and fucked other chicks, leaving her wondering what was wrong with her.

  “You went to him?” I asked.

  “Why? Does that matter to you?”

  “That guy hurt you, Violet!”

  “You hurt me, Mason.”

  “That’s not the same. You told me the things he did…”

  “And if I told someone the things you did…”

  “Nobody knows?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe so I don’t look stupid.”