Love to Hate You

by Jennifer Sucevic

  I force my lips into a tight smile. Daisy’s going to get it when I get my hands on her tonight. And she’s going to get it good. Not to mention, hard. Goddamn it, I can’t go five minutes without thinking about being inside her.

  I’m just about to respond when my phone dings with an incoming message. Thankful for the distraction, I look at my cell.

  It’s my mom. The muscles in my stomach tighten into a painful knot. The pizza I just wolfed down threatens to revolt as I bolt up from the table with my half-eaten plate in hand. “I gotta take off.”

  I glance at Noah knowing that he’ll understand without me saying anything more. His body tenses and all the previous teasing falls away. He doesn’t ask any questions. Just nods in acknowledgement.

  I can’t get into any of this bullshit with Daisy here. She’s the last person I want knowing about my family.

  Sensing the abrupt change in atmosphere, Daisy’s brows snap together. “Wait. You’re leaving now?” She gestures toward the TV. “But the game’s not over yet.”

  When I remain silent, she moistens her lips and adds, “And it’s tight. We’re only up by three points.”

  As much as I would rather stay with her and Noah, that’s not possible. Unable to meet her inquisitive stare, I keep my eyes averted.

  “Yeah, sorry. I’ll catch you both later.” I dump my plate in the trash and grab the keys to my car before heading for the door.

  Once I’m in the hallway, I stop and lean against the wall, squeezing my eyes shut. Maybe for a while, I was able to pretend all this other bullshit didn’t exist. But it does. And it’s not going anywhere. Whatever this is between Daisy and I needs to end. I can’t risk my friendship with Noah and I sure as shit don’t want her to find out about my family situation.

  I don’t need that humiliation.

  The best thing I can do at this point is back away.

  I’m just not sure if I’m strong enough to pull the plug.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Daisy

  At a loss, I watch Carter head for the door without a second glance at me. All within two minutes of receiving a text.

  Who the hell was it from?

  I’ve never seen him jump like that. I look at my cousin and try to get a read on his thoughts, but his gaze remains fixed on the television screen.

  The three of us watching the game on a Sunday afternoon is our thing. We’ve been doing it since freshman year. Even when I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with Carter, it was still what we did.

  Doesn’t Noah think Carter’s behavior was strange? We’re in the middle of the game and he just got up and took off. But Noah hasn’t commented on it.

  I clear my throat and jerk my thumb toward the apartment door. “What’s up with that?”

  Noah glances at me and then goes back to watching the screen. “How should I know?”

  I nibble my lip not wanting to ask.

  I’m able to hold the question in for about two minutes before it bursts free. “Who do you think the text was from?”

  “Dunno.” He shrugs.

  I’m tempted to throw something at his head. This is like pulling teeth. Actually, that would probably be easier.

  With my foot bouncing, I stare at the TV screen. But the game no longer holds my interest. A possible explanation flits into my head. Once it does, there’s no dismissing it.

  Carter must be seeing someone. Maybe it’s not a bone fide girlfriend since I’ve never seen him get serious with anyone. But it’s entirely possible that he has a piece on the side.

  I mean, it’s not like we sat down and defined our relationship—and yes, I’m using that term loosely—but I’m certainly not going to sleep with a guy who’s screwing around with other girls. Obviously, I didn’t make that clear from the onset.

  What else could have him moving like that?

  My mind remains frustratingly blank.

  I blurt, “Is Carter seeing someone? Is that why he took off?”

  “Hell, no.” Noah snorts like I just asked the stupidest question ever. “Why would he do something like that before heading off to the NFL? That guy has zero interest in being tied down, and who can blame him? He gets more pussy than anyone else I know.”

  His words are like a physical blow to my gut. Pain like I’ve never experienced explodes through my body. The breath catches at the back of my throat as I stare sightlessly at the TV.

  “Carter’s a player,” he continues, unaware of my mental anguish. “He’s always been a player. That’s not going to change anytime soon.” Noah takes a swig from his water bottle.

  My eyes remain glued to the action on the screen, but I couldn’t tell you if the Titans have held onto their lead.

  It takes a moment to realize that if I didn’t care about Carter on some level, I wouldn’t be this upset. Noah isn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. Carter is a player. He’s been a manwhore since I’ve known him. I’ve seen a fair number of girls traipse from his room in the morning looking well sated.

  Why did I think sleeping with him was a good idea?

  “Daisy?”

  I blink and focus on my cousin who is staring at me with narrowed eyes.

  “Yeah?” I make a concerted effort to wipe the misery from my expression. The last thing I need is for Noah to ferret out the truth.

  His attention shifts to me. “What’s going on?”

  A moment ago, that’s exactly what I wanted. Now, not so much.

  “What do you mean?” I swallow past the lump in my throat and push all the emotion down where I can’t focus on it.

  “You have a strange look on your face.” He pauses as if picking through my expression with more care. Noah knows me better than almost anyone. “Like you’re going to be sick or something.”

  I shake my head and flatten a hand over my tummy. “The pizza’s not sitting well, that’s all. I ate too much.”

  He grunts.

  I hold my breath and wait to see if he’ll ask any more questions. After about thirty seconds of scrutiny, his gaze bounces back to the game. A time out has been called and programming has switched to a commercial.

  “Can I ask you a serious question?” His voice drops as he shifts on the couch. “And I want you to be honest with me.”

  I send up a quick prayer and hope this has nothing to do with my sneaking around. I hate lying to Noah, but there’s no point in coming clean when I might be ending things with Carter.

  My muscles tense. “Sure.”

  “Do you like Ashley?”

  The air rushes from my lungs until I feel light headed. I was so prepared for the worst, that I almost release a gurgle of relieved laughter. Just as that’s about to happen, I rein it in.

  Noah wears a solemn expression which is at odds with his usual demeanor.

  “Ummm,” I stall and gather my thoughts.

  Of course, I don’t like Ashley. She’s done nothing to endear herself to me. In fact, it’s been the opposite. But still, I don’t necessarily want to disclose that.

  Instead of answering his question, I deflect. “Why are you asking?”

  “I don’t know.” He lifts his shoulders. “Just wondering.”

  His gaze resettles on the game. The clock is running. I’m surprised when he says, “You don’t seem like a fan.”

  I nibble my lip and wonder how to handle the situation. “Does it matter what I think?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Why?” As much as it pains me to say this… “In the end, it doesn’t matter what I think. It only matters how you feel about her.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “You probably haven’t noticed, but Ashley has a few annoying qualities that are starting to get on my nerves.”

  I almost choke.

  Um, dude, I noticed from day one. I just never said anything.

  “What specific qualities are you referring to?” I ask.

  I could easily tick off at least five from the top of my head. Probably more.

&
nbsp; He sits up, his elbows going to his knees. “Well, you saw what just happened, right?”

  Yup, it was kind of hard to miss.

  “She seems picky about her food,” I say, attempting to tread carefully.

  “It’s not even that. It’s more that she expects me to jump the moment she says the word.” He pauses. “You know, I wouldn’t have minded running out and exchanging the salad, but her attitude pissed me off.”

  Noah is a good boyfriend. And I’m not just saying that because he’s my cousin and I love him to death. He’s dated other girls before Ashley and always treated them well. He’s not one of these jocks who’s looking to bang as many chicks as possible. He’s a relationship guy. I can’t blame him for wanting to be treated with respect.

  It’s unfortunate that Ashley doesn’t treat him the way she should.

  “But it’s always been like that,” I admit. “When you two started going out, you spent a lot of time catering to her, so…” I shrug as if the rest is obvious. “Can you blame her for not continuing to expect it?”

  “You’re right, I did.” Noah’s lips flatten. “But I’m tired of her expecting so much from me and not getting anything in return. I guess it took me a while to realize how self-centered she can be. Now that I do, it really irks me.”

  This probably makes me a bad person, but part of me wants to leap off the chair and do a victory dance that Noah has finally opened his eyes to his girlfriend’s behavior. As difficult as it is, I refrain. He might be bothered that Ashley stormed out of here, but that doesn’t mean they’ll break up anytime soon. For the time being, I need to remain neutral. If I express my true feelings and they hash out their problems, then I look like the bad guy who never wanted them together in the first place.

  As much as I’m dying to tell him to dump Ashley’s skinny ass, I say instead, “It sounds like you need to talk to Ashley and get all this out in the open.” I’m tempted to pat myself on the back for handling this conversation so maturely.

  Olivia would be proud.

  “Yeah, maybe.” He drags a hand over his face. “But first I’m going to give her some time to cool off.” His voice hardens. “If things don’t change, this isn’t going to work out between us. I’ve got too much on my plate with law school coming up. The last thing I need is this immature bullshit weighing me down.”

  Just as he drops that bomb, cheers erupt from the television.

  Noah and I snap our heads toward the screen to see that the Titans have scored a touchdown while we weren’t looking. The heaviness of our previous conversation is forgotten as matching grins erupt on our faces and we jump up, pumping our fists in the air.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Daisy

  I jolt awake as a muscular body slides beneath the sheets. My eyes pop open and I find Carter’s face hovering above mine.

  “Hey,” he says gruffly.

  The sound of his voice plucks something deep inside me before reverberating through my body. I reach out to touch him before remembering that I spent the afternoon hanging around the apartment, waiting for him to return so we could talk.

  But he never showed. This is the first I’m seeing of him.

  My hand falls back to the mattress.

  Could I have shot him a text to make sure everything was okay?

  Yeah, but there was no way I was doing that.

  The bottom line is that Carter and I aren’t together. He’s not my boyfriend. I’m not his girlfriend. He doesn’t owe me any explanations. The situation between us is casual and neither of us have pushed for more than him slipping into my room at night to screw.

  Not only does that thought hurt my heart, but it solidifies everything inside me. Even though he’s just woken me from a deep sleep, questions buzz through my brain like a swarm of angry bees.

  He buries his face in the hollow of my neck before I can fire off any of them. His warm breath feathers across my skin and sends shockwaves of desire through me. All my questions and concerns evaporate as Carter inhales me.

  That little movement is my kryptonite.

  Other guys have done the same thing in the past and it’s never affected me the way it does with Carter. Everything with him feels different.

  He strips off my pajamas. It’s only when he presses his body against mine that I realize he’s naked. A distant voice is screaming in my head. It’s demanding that we talk about what happened this afternoon, that I tell him we can’t do this anymore. I’m not some nameless, faceless jersey chaser he can fuck when the urge strikes him. If this is going to continue, a set of ground rules needs to be put in place.

  Number one on that list is there are no more girls.

  Only me.

  When he aligns his body with mine, it becomes more and more difficult to hang onto rational thought.

  What was I going to say?

  He lowers his face to my collarbone and kisses his way across my chest. Almost feverishly, his tongue darts out and sweeps across my nipple before sucking it greedily into his mouth. I moan and arch my back wanting to get closer. Less than two minutes ago, he woke me from a dead sleep and already my core is pulsing with need.

  He moves to the other stiff peak, lavishing it with attention before licking a hot trail down my body. When he reaches my pubic bone, he shoulders his way between my thighs. I lift up so that I can see his dark head. Another wave of desire crashes through me as I spread my legs wider.

  Our gazes lock and I’m powerless to look away when he presses his lips against my clit. A groan slips free as soon as he makes contact. I want to close my eyes and sink into the pleasure coursing through me, but I don’t. When he sucks that tiny bundle of nerves in his mouth, I nearly lose it.

  No one has ever brought me so quickly to orgasm. Carter may be talented on the football field, but he’s equally talented in the bedroom. Again, thoughts of where he took off to this afternoon force their way into my brain.

  This time, the voice is louder. More insistent.

  I thread my fingers through his tousled hair. Lord knows I can’t have this conversation with his face buried between my thighs. As soon as I attempt to shove him away, he spears a finger inside me and continues to nibble.

  The plan may have been to push him away, but I end up tugging him closer as I explode. My toes curl and my back arches as an orgasm streaks through my body. I bite my lip to keep from screaming his name as he licks and kisses my sensitive flesh. I wish this euphoric feeling could last a bit longer, but it doesn’t. All my concerns crash down on me with the force of a brick wall.

  Oh my God, what have I done?

  I want to kick my own ass for giving in to him so easily.

  I loosen my grip on his hair and shove at his shoulders needing distance. Five minutes ago, I couldn’t pull him close enough. Now I can’t push him far enough away. After his behavior this afternoon, I feel vulnerable and exposed.

  And really stupid for allowing him to use my body. I’m no different than any of the other girls Carter sleeps with. It’s almost laughable that I ever thought I was in control of the situation when it’s so obvious that I was the one being played.

  Carter crawls up my body and tries to press his lips against mine, but I halt his descent by flattening my palms against his chest. His brows draw together in surprise.

  “Where have you been?” I snap, sounding like a jealous girlfriend.

  We both know that I don’t have any real claim on him. But if he’s boning some other girl on the sly, I deserve to know about it. My breath catches as I consider the possibility that I’m the one who’s being boned on the side. A sick knot settles in the pit of my belly as I force him away with all my strength.

  “What the—”

  “Are you screwing someone else?” I cringe as Noah’s words circle viciously in my head.

  Carter’s the guy on the football team who gets the most pussy. I can imagine all the backslapping that honor has incurred.

  You can’t walk the BU campus from one end to the
other without hearing girls whisper about his sexual exploits. Why would Carter settle for just one female when he can have a different flavor every night of the week?

  Nausea pinches my belly with a viciousness that makes me feel like I’m going to throw up. Lust is replaced by a scowl as he rears back. My hands fall away from his chest.

  “Are you being serious?” he asks.

  “As a fucking heart attack,” I growl, knocking him from on top of me so that we’re no longer touching.

  If I’ve come to realize anything in the last few weeks, it’s that I need to be clearheaded when having a discussion with Carter. The moment he lays his hands on me, I’m lost.

  “Why would you ask me something like that?” He collapses on his back beside me. His elbows support his upper body. “I sleep in your bed every damn night.”

  True.

  “What am I supposed to think? You get a text in the middle of the game and run out of here like your ass is on fire.” My gaze narrows, looking for any sign that he might be holding back the truth. “You don’t think that looks suspect? Because I do.”

  Needing to see the expression on his face, I reach over, turning on the bedside lamp. The room becomes illuminated in soft light. My breath catches at the purplish bruise blooming across his cheek. Our discussion forgotten, I kneel on the bed, closing the distance between us until I can cradle his cheeks in the palms of my hands. I tilt his face so that I can inspect the damage.

  His solemn gaze stays fixed on mine.

  First a black eye and now this?

  What the hell is Carter involved in?

  Some underground fight club?

  Do they even have those here?

  Why would he do that?

  Carter doesn’t need the money. From everything I’ve heard, his parents are loaded. And I’m not talking about them merely being comfortable. His dad is a commercial real estate developer who works all over the country.

  Plus, Carter is in the middle of his final season at BU and he’s entering the NFL draft in the spring. He can’t afford to get injured. His future and financial livelihood is riding on being picked up by a team.