Hate Notes: A Sweet Enemies to Lovers Young Adult Romance (Lakeview Prep Book 1)

by Gracie Graham

  Me: Be yourself, everyone else is already taken.

  Julie: Oscar Wilde.

  Me: Bingo. Easier said than done.

  Julie: But worth it.

  Me: Okay, I’ll try.

  Julie: Promise?

  Me: I’d pinky swear if you were here.

  Julie: Can I ask you a question?

  Me: Isn’t that what we’re doing here? Shoot, I’m an open book.

  Julie: Why are you texting a girl from another school, who you barely know, when there are probably a million girls from Lakeview you could be talking to?

  Me: Maybe I’m tired of the girls at my school. And maybe it’s because you’re from somewhere else that I feel like I can be myself with you without being judged. Besides, you seem different.

  Julie: Ugh?

  Me: What? Different is a bad thing?

  Julie: It’s overrated, trust me. No guys I know want someone different. They want a pretty girl with a perfect body and perfect hair. Captain of the cheerleading team. Blah blah blah.

  Me: Well, maybe you’ve been talking to the wrong guys.

  Julie: Maybe . . .

  PENELOPE

  I woke Saturday morning to the scent of frying bacon.

  Blinking my bleary eyes, I cleared my sleep-addled brain with a groan. I’d stayed up far too late talking to Topher, and I lay there another moment before I mustered the energy to roll out of bed.

  Speaking of Topher . . .

  I hated him, so why was he the first thing that popped in my head? And why did butterflies riot in my stomach at the thought of him? This was the boy responsible for spearheading my nickname. The one who laughed at my expense. Every. Single. Time. The one I vowed to get dirt on.

  But he was also the one who promised to make it up to me. The same person who claimed he didn’t want to be King. The same boy who was smarter than I thought. The one who spoke to Julie like he wasn’t the hottest, most popular boy at school with a future made of gold. The boy who felt pressure to be perfect and had issues with his father. The boy who wasn’t perfect, after all.

  I pressed my fingers to my temples as I walked to my closet. It was too much to wrap my head around. As it turned out, Topher was an enigma, and I couldn’t quite seem to reconcile myself with the opposite versions of him—the boy who was a jerk in front of his friends or the one who texted Julie silly pictures of himself and talked about his life like it wasn’t perfect.

  He told Julie no one really knew him.

  Maybe he was right.

  I changed out of my pajamas and headed for the kitchen, my nose as my guide as the scent of breakfast drew me in. Pushing thoughts of Topher to the backburner, I made a beeline for the fresh pot of coffee. The local news played in the background as I poured a cup and watched as Dad and Sara stood side-by-side at the stove. A dozen oddly shaped pancakes were stacked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa beside them while bacon sizzled in the frying pan.

  My stomach rumbled. Bacon meant good news. Dad always bought it on special occasions like birthdays and holidays. Today was neither.

  “Hey, sleepy-head,” Dad called over his shoulder.

  “What’s going on?” My mouth watered as I propped a hip against the counter and took a sip of coffee.

  “Dad has a surprise for you,” Sara blurted while Dad flashed her a look that told me she wasn’t supposed to say anything.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “Surprise? What kind of surprise?” I asked, straightening.

  My thoughts flickered to Topher once more and I wondered if maybe he got me out of tutoring him and how I’d feel about it if he did.

  “You’ll see. Let’s eat, and then you’ll find out.”

  I took my mug of coffee to the table and sat as they brought the food to me. We sat, the three of us spread out so we filled the empty space where my mother would be. Breakfast was her favorite meal, and I couldn’t help but think of her as I piled my plate high with bacon and pancakes smothered with syrup. Or maybe it was the fact that I had told Topher about her last night that had me thinking of her. It was something I hadn’t done with anyone in a really long time, if ever. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

  Dad, licking syrup off a finger, glanced up at me and asked, “So, how’s the tutoring going?”

  It was like he had a window into my thoughts.

  I fidgeted with the handle of my mug and shrugged. “Not bad, actually.”

  “Good. That’s good.” His gaze flickered to my nails, which were still lemon-yellow, then back to his plate. The gesture was so common, it was like checking my temperature, direct insight into how my life was going.

  “I wasn’t sure. You know,” he cleared his throat, “with the Elliot kid and all. I know what his father’s like. I was hoping the apple fell far from the tree.”

  Ah, yes, Mr. Elliot. Apparently, my father wasn’t the only one who thought he was a jerk.

  My gaze settled back onto my pancakes, and I cut a hunk off, taking a bite. “Yeah, I’m not so sure how well they get along.”

  Dad opened his mouth to say something else, but I quickly turned to Sara, wanting to change the subject. “Ready for your big game?”

  Just as I suspected, her eyes brightened and she took the bait. For the rest of breakfast, she talked about the team and their big game against Lakeview’s rival.

  After we finished eating, I helped my father clear the dishes. We loaded them into the dishwasher before I turned to him expectantly.

  “Ready for your surprise? Come on. ” He nodded toward the front door.

  I followed behind him, and when he put on his shoes, I did the same, slipping my feet into a pair of flip flops—the cheap kind you got for a buck—then stepped outside into the mid-morning sunshine.

  His gaze settled on something in the driveway, and I shielded my eyes against the glare to follow his gaze. There, in the driveway in front of him, sat a car I didn’t recognize. When my eyes flickered back to him, he held out a key.

  His smile broadened as he gestured for me to take it. “I may not have been able to get you out of working off your tuition, but I was able to scrape a little bit together for this. I hope you like it.”

  My eyes widened as a wash of shock crashed over me. “You got me a car?”

  He scratched his head. “I bought it off of one of the guys at work. He was just gonna scrap it anyway. It could use a little TLC. It’s a little rough around the edges, but the engine’s strong.”

  I shook my head slowly as I took the keys and moved closer to the compact blue vehicle behind him, mouth parted, unsure of what to say. I knew full well Dad couldn’t afford to buy me a car, so the fact that he’d found a way, even if it was a beater, meant a lot.

  A closer look and I saw the rips in the upholstery from the window. The hood was a darker shade of blue than the rest of the body. Duct Tape and thick plastic replaced the back passenger side window while some sort of red adhesive had been used to repair a cracked taillight.

  Calling it rough was an understatement, but I smothered the negative voice inside my head because it was a car. And it was mine. Who cared what it looked like?

  I pivoted around to face him and flashed him my widest smile. “Dad, this is amazing.”

  He beamed as he opened the driver’s side door—just the reaction I wanted.

  “Look, it has a brand new radio.” He pointed.

  It did, indeed, have a decent radio, which had to have been aftermarket based on the age and general condition of the car.

  “Awesome.” I slid inside, behind the wheel, and adjusted the seat to my liking, listening as my father pointed out all the positives of the giant heap of metal like it was an exhibition of some sort, clearly excited about the gift.

  “I figured wherever you end up going to college next year, you’ll need it. This way, you can come home whenever you want to visit without waiting for me to give you a ride. And you can drive off-campus, too. You know, with your friends.”

  Ri
ght. The droves of friends I’m sure I’ll have, I mused.

  “It’s great, Dad. Seriously,” I shook my head. “It’s an amazing gift, and I can’t believe you did this. You really didn’t need to.”

  I thought of all the things he could’ve bought instead. Things he needed.

  A good suit.

  Paint for the trim and doors on the house.

  A new mower.

  A replacement roof for the garden shed.

  But he simply shook his head and glanced down to his feet as he said, “You deserve it.” And then his glistening blue eyes met mine. “You’ve helped so much with Sara. You’ve filled a role I couldn’t, ever since . . .” He trailed off, and his throat bobbed as he glanced away.

  We rarely talked about Mom.

  “Anyway,” he wiped at his nose and turned back to me, “you help out, and you never complain. Not even when I have to spend money on Sara for soccer. And you never ask for a thing.”

  My stomach clenched. “Dad . . .”

  “No, really. I only wish I could’ve gotten you something nicer.”

  “Stop,” I said, feeling the weight of his words in my chest, heavy on my heart. “It’s perfect.”

  “It’s not too . . .” He squinted as his eyes trailed over it. “Ugly?”

  I stepped out of the car and closed the door behind me, then fell into his arms, embracing him in the biggest, tightest hug I could manage. Because even though I helped with Sara and dinner and housework, among other things. And even though I sometimes wished I didn’t have that responsibility like other kids at school, it was the least I could do. Dad worked harder than anyone I knew to give us the life we have. He got us into the Lakeview scholarship program, and for years, he’s been both a mother and father to the best of his ability, determined we wouldn’t miss out. And maybe we didn’t live in the lap of luxury, but it was enough.

  When I pulled away, I gave a little whoop of joy because even though the car was admittedly lacking in the aesthetics department, it was transportation—something I never thought I’d have until I was off to college and working. And having a car now meant no more rides with Mrs. Geiger after tutor sessions. No more walking the five blocks to the grocery store and back in the heat. Or hitching a ride to Sara’s practices. It meant independence.

  And it was the sweetest thing Dad could do for me. Maybe he couldn’t afford to pay my way at Lakeview this year, but he could do this, and for that, I was grateful.

  “I have a car!” I threw my hands into the air, and when Sara appeared beside me, I scooped her up in a bear hug.

  “Where you wanna go first?” I asked, jingling my keys.

  I pulled up to Scarlett’s house and parked in the driveway. It was after seven o’clock, and though we never went to Lakeview sporting events, we did occasionally hang at Mary’s Diner on the weekends. So when I called her and said I was picking her up this time, she’d been floored.

  The car idled, the engine rumbling with the occasional pop from the muffler as I parked in the driveway. The curtain to her neighbor’s house fluttered, and I tried to ignore the face peering out of the window, checking at the source of the noise. I knew just how much my car was out of place in her neighborhood, but I refused to be ashamed.

  The subtle scent of exhaust wafted through my open window as I waited for Scarlett to appear. Drumming my fingers over the steering wheel, I ignored the Porsche that drove by, and Scarlett’s parents’ hulking Range Rover parked next to me in the driveway.

  She hurried out her door and called over her shoulder, “I can’t believe your dad got you—” The words died on her lips as she spun around and her gaze settled on the hunk of metal in her driveway.

  “I know,” I said with a smile. “It’s so beautiful, you’re speechless.”

  Scarlett’s saucer-sized eyes met mine, and I knew what she saw when she looked at it. Just like I also knew she was too kind to say it.

  “Where did he get it?” she asked hesitantly.

  I shrugged. “Some guy at work sold it to him.”

  Scarlett rounded the front to the passenger side and opened her door, which groaned in protest, then sunk inside. Her gaze shifted over the stained beige upholstery, the window with the Duct Tape, and the dash before she turned to me. “It has a nice radio,” she said brightly, and I laughed.

  “What? I’m serious.” She frowned.

  “That was my dad’s selling point, too. It’s a little rough,” I admitted, using his choice of words, even though they were severely insufficient. “But with a little TLC, it won’t be so bad. I already priced some seat covers and I can eventually replace the taillight and window.”

  Scarlett nodded like she whole-heartily agreed with me, which is why I loved her. “Still, it’s a car, right?” she said.

  “Right. It has wheels, it runs, and it’s mine.”

  “Pretty cool, huh?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, pretty cool.”

  “Hey!” she said as she buckled up and I pulled out of her driveway. “This means we’ll be able to see each other next year more often since we won’t be going to the same school.”

  Seeing as how Scarlett wanted to pursue a career in fashion, she already knew she was headed to the fashion capital of the US, which already put us in different schools.

  “Totally. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

  “Way to go, Papa Ewe.”

  I snorted.

  “Okay, so we need to talk about homecoming,” she said in a firm tone.

  My thoughts quickly drifted to Topher and the deal he made with Julie, but I pushed them away just as fast. There was approximately zero chance she’d lose, so I groaned. “Do we have to?”

  “P, it’s our senior year. We’re going to all the dances.” She waved her arms. “It’s our last chance to make memories while we still can.”

  “I know, but we don’t even have dates.”

  “Um, hello? What am I, chopped liver? We’re going stag, but together. Lots of girls do that, so it’s no big deal.”

  Do they though? I wasn’t so sure. It seemed like one of those things that sounded good until we got there and were the only losers at the dance without a boy on our arm.

  Regardless, I knew I was stuck. Scarlett would hound me about the dance until I relented, so it was easier to save us both the effort.

  “Okay, fine.” I sighed. “I’ll get my ticket on Monday.” I pictured all the hard-earned dollars from my summer job dwindling away.

  “No worries. I’ll pick both of ours up together and you can pay me back later.”

  In other words, she didn’t trust me to get mine on my own, which, honestly, I couldn’t blame her considering my lack of enthusiasm.

  “But who knows,” she continued, “maybe we’ll meet some major hotties from now till then.”

  “Doubtful,” I muttered.

  “Gosh, I need a boyfriend.”

  I snorted, because Scarlett said this about once a month. Meanwhile, despite the fact that I was her best friend, she could have her pick of a bazillion boys, unlike me, who may as well be a swamp monster. Not many guys wanted to date Skunk Girl.

  “You could totally have a boyfriend,” I pointed out.

  “Blech. But look at our choices. I mean, boys like JT, Mikey, Luca, and that kid in my philosophy class that picks his nose? Is that really the best we have to choose from?”

  I laughed because, even though I agreed, Scarlett was picky to a fault.

  “Besides,” she said, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder, “I’m waiting—”

  “For a college boy,” I finished for her because I’d heard it a million times. “Someone more mature. Educated. Worldly. Someone with class.”

  She grinned. “Is that so much to ask?”

  I snickered as we headed out of Scarlett’s neighborhood, past the mall and the giant shopping plaza that housed all the high-end retail in Lakewood like Louis Vuitton, Gucci, and Prada. Steakhouses and seafood joints blurred by our window as we headed in
to the smaller, older area of town with the bowling alley and small eateries, such as Mary’s diner.

  “So . . .” She shot me a sly grin. “How’s Topher?”

  I fell silent a moment, running through all of our interactions this past week. It was strange how quickly I’d gone from never speaking to him to talking on a daily basis.

  “Did you know he has a 4.0?”

  “Topher?” Her brows rose to her hairline. “So why does he have a tutor?”

  “That’s what I asked. Apparently, he’s a perfectionist that likes to have a study partner. I don’t know; it’s odd.” Then I added, “I get the feeling his dad’s a jerk.”

  Not only did I gather this from our conversations, but from my father who spent years busting his butt for the man, with little recognition and monetary reward.

  “That’s not surprising,” Scarlett muttered.

  “The truth is, I don’t know what to think of him. He seems different than I thought.”

  Mary’s diner appeared on our right. The shiny metal exterior of the retro cafe glinted in the waning sunlight. The neon sign flickered as I pulled into the crowded parking lot and found a spot.

  I put the car in park while Scarlett nodded toward the diner.

  “Speak of the devil.”

  I followed her gaze and paused on a group of kids I quickly identified as Topher and his friends from school, most of them Royals, lingering outside the entryway.

  I groaned as I slouched down in my seat, wishing I’d parked further away and hoping they hadn’t noticed me. “Wanna go somewhere else?” I asked.

  “But . . .” Scarlett’s jaw lowered, her face ripe with disappointment. “I really wanted sticky buns and ice cream.”

  Was the price of sticky buns humiliation and torture? It seemed exorbitant.

  Still, I flashed her my best attempt at a smile, even though my insides churned like butter. It was bad enough facing them at school, but tonight, I wasn’t in the mood.

  “We can wait in the car for a bit if you want,” she offered.

  “No, no.” I shook my head, strengthening my resolve. “It’s fine. We’ll go in.” After all, why should they dictate what little of a social life I had? If I waited in the car for them to either go inside or leave, then I let them win. And I was tired of Royals always winning.