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

by Gracie Graham

  His cheeks flushed, but he said nothing. Instead, his mouth pressed into a thin line and his expression pinched.

  “Well, do you?”

  When he kept silent, I turned my gaze back to my paper, pressing my pencil so hard against it, I thought it might snap. “That’s what I thought.”

  After a moment, he wordlessly opened his math book and flipped through the pages before he slammed it closed again. “I didn’t know about the skunk thing. I must’ve left Mary’s before that, but had I been there, I never would’ve let it happen. I told JT to leave you alone.”

  “Then he either doesn’t know how to listen, or he just doesn’t care what you have to say.”

  “Maybe. But they’ll stop, I swear it.”

  I dropped my pencil and glanced up at him, annoyed with myself for even entertaining this conversation, but it’s like I just couldn’t help myself. Maybe a part of me—a silly, naive, foolish part of me—wanted Topher to care. Which made me just as pathetic as the rest of the girls that worshiped the ground he walked on.

  “Do you even mean the things you say? Or do you just talk to hear yourself speak? Last week, you acted like you don’t even want this reputation you’ve earned, like it’s some kind of curse. And now, suddenly, you’re some knight in shining armor, willing to stand up for the lowly pauper when you had a direct hand in the way I’ve been treated.”

  “Okay, so I know I haven’t exactly stopped them in the past. I get why you don’t trust me, but . . .” He trailed off, searching my face. For what, I had no idea, but the scrutiny made me squirm. “Do you really dread class that much?”

  I swallowed, saying nothing because the truth made me sound pathetic.

  “Do you really wish you were invisible?” he asked again, softer this time.

  “Yes,” I whispered, then I glanced the other way, mortified at the tears stinging the back of my eyes.

  “I’ll fix this,” he said.

  TOPHER

  I paced the hallway in front of the lockers.

  Back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  The linoleum floors squeaked every time I pivoted on my feet. I had half a mind to find JT and Mikey, throw them up against the nearest wall, and ask them what the hell their problem was, but it would only make things worse.

  Because something Ewe said hit home. Then he either doesn’t know how to listen, or he just doesn’t care what you have to say.

  It used to be that I laid down the rules. My word was gospel. I was King, after all. But lately, they didn’t seem to care how I felt. And while it was true that I was changing, normally, they’d pivot and maneuver with me. But not anymore.

  It should probably bother me more than it did.

  Regardless, I still held enough power to make them leave Penelope alone. I was sure of it. All I had to do was reassert myself as the alpha of our group, even if I could give two shits what they thought of me. They’d already taken notice of my attention to P. And if I made a show of hanging with her more, they’d almost be forced into laying off of her. Because by association alone, they wouldn’t want it to seem like we’d taken a loser into the fold.

  In my texts to Julia, I told her I was different. That I wasn’t special. That no one really knew me for me.

  I was starting to realize just how true that was. So it was time I showed it and became the man I wanted to be, instead of just living up to my reputation.

  The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall, so I paused in my pacing and leaned against the lockers, hip cocked, arms crossed, the picture of casual as Penelope rounded the corner.

  Her head was down, a dark curtain obscuring half her face as she walked.

  When she drew closer and glanced up, her steps faltered as she caught sight of me. “What are you still doing here?” she asked warily.

  I lifted a shoulder and pushed off the lockers as she stopped in front of hers and opened it. “You need a ride, right?” I asked, and though the halls were mostly empty, the jocks and club geeks remained, several of which eyed me as I spoke to her now.

  Good. Let them watch.

  She paused in putting her books away to narrow her eyes at me.

  “What?” I asked, though I couldn’t say I blamed her for not trusting me. “After what you told me, I figured your car was out of commission.”

  “It is.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll give you a ride.”

  “Wait.” She glanced around her, scanning the halls like she was looking for some sort of trick. “Did you hang around just for me?”

  Was that so hard to believe?

  “Yeah, no biggie. I had some stuff to do anyway.” Lie.

  I raked a hand through my hair, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of her gaze. Why did it feel like she saw right through me?

  “I mean, if you’d rather ride with—”

  “You know I don’t live in Lakeview, right?” She slammed the door shut and turned to me.

  “Yeah.” She was one of the few kids at Lakeview on scholarship, so it wasn’t exactly a secret.

  When she stood there, unmoving, I placed my hands over the tops of her shoulders, which tensed under my palms. “Ewe, relax. Believe it or not, I know how to get in and out of Lakeview. And I’m not gonna bite. You’ll be safe.”

  “I wasn’t worried you’d do something.” She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed, but her feet started moving, so that was all that mattered.

  I jiggled the keys in my hand as we walked side-by-side out of the school and into the parking lot to my spot in the front row, wondering what she was thinking.

  She chewed lightly on her thumbnail, and I noticed they were painted black, a change from the bright yellow a few days earlier. I couldn’t help but think the lighter color suited her better.

  “Right here,” I said, motioning toward the silver Audi.

  Several kids gawked as they watched us stop by my car.

  “I know which car is yours,” she snapped.

  Right. Perks of being a Royal. Popularity. Recognition and all that.

  Clicking the keyfob, I unlocked it, then rounded the front while Penelope blinked over at me like I had some kind of communicable disease. “Aren’t you driving?”

  I tipped my head back, eyes skyward, and smiled before I glanced back down and opened the passenger side door for her, then waved her over. “Believe it or not, I am a gentleman, P.”

  Her brows rose.

  “Don’t look so shocked.”

  “Sorry, I just . . .” Her words trailed off, and she bit her lip before she rounded the front of the car and sunk inside.

  I closed the door behind her and hurried to the driver’s side, then got behind the wheel. I had an idea where she lived, but not the exact area, so I asked, “Where to?”

  She rattled off her address, and I headed out of the parking lot for the highway. Every so often she peeked at me out of the corner of her eye, and I was almost afraid to say anything lest I scare her off.

  With one arm hung casually out the window, I allowed the breeze to ruffle my hair while my other hand gripped the steering wheel. And though I was trying to act casual, my nerves mounted in the silence. “Do you mind?” I asked, flicking on the radio.

  When she shook her head, I snatched up my phone, punched a couple buttons, and handed it to her. “Here, you wanna pick the playlist?”

  “Me?”

  Again with the surprise at my being a normal human being.

  Shit, how much of a jerk was I?

  “Yeah, you.”

  She hesitated, but once she started scrolling, I watched as she sunk further into her seat, a soft smile forming on her lips.

  “No way,” she said, gawking from the phone to me. “You have IRL on here?”

  “You’ve heard of them?”

  “Heard of them?” She eyed me like I was crazy. “They’re only the best indie rock band. Ever. Their music is unrivaled.”

  “Seriously?” I glanced from the road back to her and grinned. The fact
that she had both heard of them and liked them was nuts. Half my friends made fun of my ass for listening to anything but mainstream pop and rap. “They’re one of my favorites,” I said. “No one I talk to follows them. The guys think they’re lame.”

  Penelope scoffed. “Of course they do,” she muttered. “They have zero taste. IRL’s lyrics are practically poetry. If you ask me, they completely blow any major alternative rock band out of the water. You know, I heard they turned down a huge deal because they didn’t want a major recording company dictating what kind of music they made.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me, but that’s pretty sweet.”

  She glanced over at me with a smile and my gaze lingered on her lips. “You should do that more often,” I said.

  “What?” She reached up and smoothed a hand over the back of her hair, seemingly self-conscious as if she already sensed the compliment coming and didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Smile.”

  I watched with satisfaction as her cheeks turned pink. It was cute when she blushed.

  I took the first ramp off the highway and passed a grocery store and gas station before I had to ask for directions the rest of the way to her house.

  She guided me through the town of Hillbrook, one of the communities south of Lakeview. It was older and more run-down, mostly full of blue-collar workers, trailers—some of it, Section 8 housing.

  I turned onto Walnut Drive, and she pointed to a small ranch. “This is mine,” she said.

  “Right here?” I slowed when she nodded, so I could pull in her driveway, and I realized I didn’t know anything about her home life. “Do you have any brothers and sisters?” I asked.

  She took a moment to answer, like it might be some kind of trick, but eventually, she said. “One sister. It’s just my dad, Sara, and me.”

  I nodded, drumming my fingers over the steering wheel. Not yet wanting to let her go, for reasons I couldn’t explain. “And your mom?” I asked, even though it was none of my business.

  “She’s dead.”

  Shit. Now I felt like a jerk. “Crap, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. You’re actually the second girl I’ve talked to this week that lost her mom,” I said, thinking of Julie.

  At that, she shrugged and fiddled with the straps of her bookbag. “It’s okay. My dad’s pretty great.”

  “He works for—”

  “Your dad,” she finished for me. “Yeah.” Then she bit her lip and her gaze hardened, and I knew that look. I didn’t need to ask to know what they probably thought of him. And one glance at her house told me he wasn’t exactly compensated well. The house was beyond modest. The dull vinyl siding screamed to be replaced, and the paint on the doors needed a fresh coat. The walkway leading up to the front of the house was cracked and crumbling in spots. The whole exterior could use an overhaul. Everything except the lush green lawn, which was out of place beside its drab surroundings, and I wondered what she’d think of my house—how it would color her perception of me—and decided it would probably solidify her belief that I was a privileged brat.

  When my gaze returned to her, Penelope pushed her shoulders back and raised her chin, and it was a moment before I realized she was waiting for some sign of disapproval. That she had taken my silent assessment as judgement, which made me feel like a piece of crap even though I did nothing wrong.

  I swallowed, looking her straight in the eye. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  She blinked, and the challenge in her eyes faded. “Yeah, sure.”

  When she swung open the door, I leaned in and placed my hand over hers on the handle. “Truce?” I asked.

  When she said nothing, only stared at me, I cleared my throat and repeated, “Can we call a truce?”

  “I didn’t realize I was a part of the war.”

  I felt her words like a blow, because she got me there. Not once had she done anything to deserve the crap we’ve put her through over the years.

  My jaw tightened. What could I say to make her see me in a new light?

  “You’re right. And I’m sorry, but I’d like to be friends.”

  When she didn’t answer right away, I poked her in the ribs, flashing her a crooked grin. “Come on, P.”

  “My friends call me that.” She let out a half-laugh and shook her head like the thought of being friends with me was crazy. “Yeah, sure. Friends.”

  Chapter 15

  TOPHER

  I glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight and I couldn’t sleep. My thoughts kept circling back to Penelope and how I could make things right for her without rocking the boat on my social life. Maybe it was selfish, but I had enough on my plate with my father, choosing a career path and college, without completely obliterating the social hierarchy at Lakeview. Then again, maybe I was giving myself too much credit. King or not, maybe I wasn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things. Maybe if I ditched JT, Mikey, and Luca tomorrow, they would simply move on without me like nothing ever happened.

  Would Lakeview royalty stay intact without their king? Part of me was afraid to find out because if they did, then I meant even less to everyone than I thought. Which was pretty damn depressing.

  With a sigh, I rolled over on my side. The screen from my phone glinted in the glow of the moon, so I picked it up, opening my texts to Julie because I needed someone to talk to who didn’t see me as Topher Elliot, captain of the water polo team and King. I needed someone who simply saw me as that cute boy she met at a party, even if I did blow her off.

  Me: ‘Sup beautiful. You awake?

  Julie: I am now.

  I grinned. That’s what I liked about Julie. She didn’t pull any punches. She said what she meant. It made things easier. Unlike the constant guessing and cycular manipulation that happened among the chicks like Gabby that our group normally hung out with.

  I clenched the hand around my phone as I thought about the letter sitting in the drawer of my nightstand. Then, without overthinking it, I sent off a text.

  Me: What are your plans after high school? I know you mentioned college.

  Julie: Yeah. I’m hoping to get into a really good school, maybe ivy league. But, honestly, I’ll probably go wherever I get a scholarship.

  Me: I’m sure you’ll get into all your top choices.

  Julie: Don’t be so sure. I don’t do much for extracurriculars, although I am a tutor. What about you?

  Me: Hey, I have a friend that’s a tutor, and that’ll look awesome on your apps. As for me, do you want to know what my actual plans are as of now, or what I want to do?

  Julie: Shouldn’t they be the same thing?

  Topher: You would think so, but my dad wants me to take over the family business.

  Julie: And you don’t?

  Me: Would you think it’s lame if I said that I wanted to coach water polo?

  Julie: Why would I think it’s lame?

  Me: I don’t know. Let me ask my dad. He has a lot of reasons. Let me see . . it’s a crappy job. I can’t get rich. I would only be an employee instead of the boss. Because he worked his butt off building a legacy for me to carry on and I’d be throwing it away. Because our business comes with a kind of prestige and social status that coaching wouldn’t. Because he wants to run for mayor, which means he’ll need someone to pass the torch to.

  Julie: Prestige, social status, money. None of those things make people happy. At least not by themselves, anyway.

  Ain’t that the truth.

  Julie: What would make you happy? Is it coaching? Teaching? Even if you only ever live an average middle-class life?

  Yes. A million times yes.

  Me: Okay, Yoda, how’d you get so smart.

  Julie: I’ve watched my dad struggle our whole childhood to provide a decent life for us, and there are so many times I wish he could do something different, work less, get paid more. But you know what? He loves what he does, even if it isn't glamorous. And we have all the things we truly need. When you clear away all the excess cra
p, it makes it easier to see where your priorities lie, and it’s the people in your life, those connections, that make life worth living.

  Me: You make it sound so simple.

  Julie: Isn’t it though?

  Me: When you have a father like mine? Not so much.

  Julie: Well, only you can live your life. And you get one. It’s yours to screw up, just as much as it is to make it everything you want it to be.

  I exhaled and turned toward my nightstand. Sliding the drawer open, I stared at the Bucknell offer with longing.

  Julie was right. This was my life, and I was so tired of playing by somebody else’s rules? So why did I still hesitate? Why was I so scared to fail?

  I knew the answer.

  It was the same reason I went to a tutor despite my stellar GPA. The same reason I worked my ass off to excel at water polo. The same reason I didn’t want to rock the boat with my friends.

  Because I was expected to be perfect. Because, a long time ago, I didn’t even know when, everyone around me decided who I was gonna be, and I’ve gone along with it ever since.

  And as if she read my mind, another text came through.

  Julie: Do you always do what everyone else wants?

  Me: Most of the time.

  Julie: Isn’t that exhausting?

  Yeah. Because being perfect for everyone and everything gave me no room to fail—to be human.

  But instead, I typed: Sometimes.

  Me: What’s one thing you’ve done that people didn’t expect?

  Penelope immediately came to mind.

  Me: There’s this girl. My friends like to trash on her, but I’ve been sticking up for her, and I’m trying to earn her trust, to show her I can be a friend.

  A minute passed with no response, and I started to worry that my answer was lame when she finally texted back.

  Julie: And how does that feel?

  Me: Good