The Boy I Hate

by Taylor Sullivan

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Epilogue

  The Boy I Hate

  Taylor Sullivan

  Copyright © 2017 by Taylor Sullivan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To my niece, who has always been my biggest fan. And my sister, who I will love forever, no matter how far a distance separates us.

  Contents

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty-one

  22. Chapter Twenty-two

  23. Chapter Twenty-three

  24. Chapter Twenty-four

  25. Chapter Twenty-five

  26. Chapter Twenty-six

  27. Chapter Twenty-seven

  28. Chapter Twenty-eight

  29. Chapter Twenty-nine

  30. Chapter Thirty

  31. Chapter Thirty-one

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Taylor Sullivan

  1

  Chapter One

  Samantha Elizabeth Smiles sat across from her boyfriend of the past six years and blinked. A slow, sloth-like blink, as she simultaneously filled her lungs with just enough air to keep her heart from jumping out of her chest. “Wha-what do you mean you can’t go?”

  Her voice cracked with the question, but she couldn’t help it. In only two days they were to leave on their trip, a three thousand mile journey across the US. Yet here he sat in the middle of the restaurant, telling her, in the nonchalant way he did everything, that he couldn’t make it.

  She searched his deep brown eyes, desperately looking for any sign she’d misheard him, but there was nothing. Not a hint of remorse that he was breaking a promise. Not a bit of understanding that he was leaving her with little choice but to make the drive from Los Angeles to New York alone.

  But it was more than that; it wasn’t a broken promise that left her breathless. It was the fact that he didn’t realize how important this was. He didn’t realize that everyone on the planet expected him to be there. That everyone would expect her high-school sweetheart to be there for her best friend’s wedding. But they did, she did, and her cheeks heated at the thought of trying to explain his absence.

  Steven leaned back in his seat, taking the folded-up napkin and tucking it neatly into his lap. “I didn’t say I couldn’t go, I said I couldn’t drive with you; big difference.”

  She choked, trying to keep the panic in her throat from bubbling to the surface. “What do you mean?”

  His face softened, and he leaned across the table to take her hand. “I wouldn’t miss seeing you in your bridesmaid dress for the world.” He played with her fingers, turning them over in his to see the dark stains beneath her fingernails. “But Renee is your best friend, not mine. She doesn’t need me to be there. She needs you.”

  The room began to spin slightly, and Samantha took back her hand to reach across the table for her glass of wine. “I need you, Steven. Doesn’t that matter?”

  “Samantha…”

  “Everyone expects you to be there.”

  “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  “It’s not just that.” She took a large gulp of chardonnay, closing her eyes for a second before opening them again. “I’ve never driven cross-country before. I really don’t want to do it alone.”

  He sat back, his face hardening with a disapproval that wasn’t foreign to her. “Where’s my strong, independent girl? Where’s the Samantha who’s not afraid of anything?” He adjusted in his seat, rolling his shoulders back in the way he always did when they argued. “This internship is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You can’t expect me to give it up for a wedding. You can’t expect me to give it up to drive a slab of concrete across the US.”

  She cringed. “Slab of concrete?” Though truthfully, the insult wasn’t a big surprise. He’d been growing impatient with her sculptures for months… She’d never expected him to use such derogatory words to describe her art. Slab of concrete?

  “Sammie.” He closed his eyes, setting his napkin softly on the table. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His voice softened, and he waited for her to look back up again. “I love your work. I know Renee will love it too, but why don’t you fly, honey, give it to her when she visits this summer?”

  Samantha took a calming breath and shook her head. “I’m not flying. I promised Ren—” But she stopped herself, realizing the argument would fall on deaf ears. “You know what, never mind. It’s obvious you don’t understand.”

  His brows furrowed and he tilted his head to the side. “Sammie, I support you in everything. I thought you supported me, too. This is my future. This is for us, baby. For our future.”

  She whipped her eyes up.

  Us.

  Our.

  Future.

  There it was again. The words that sent her heart racing like a stampede of wild cattle. Though it wasn’t the words, per se, it was the meaning behind them. It was the talk of finality. The end. Forever. Because marriage, to Samantha, was what her parents had. The laughing so hard at the kitchen sink you peed a little. About something no one could understand but the two of you. The eternal kind of love that didn’t even end with death. And it wasn’t even that she was opposed to that future with Steven. She could see it. He was the perfect catch. He did everything right… But he was all she’d ever known. All she’d ever been with…

  She took a calming breath, chanting in her head that this was just Steven. The planner, the man who knew every step he would make ten steps before he actually made them. Her friend. The guy who’d been by her side since junior high, her boyfriend since junior year…

  “But if it means that much to you…”

  She raised her hand, cutting him off before he could say more. “No. No—you’re right.” Her brows pulled together and she looked down at the table. “This is a big deal.” It had been his dream forever. She couldn’t bear the thought of taking
that away from him. “I’m being selfish. You can’t pass this up. You can’t.”

  He took her hand, pulling it forwards again until she rose slightly from her seat. “Are you sure?”

  She swallowed, looking him dead in the eye. “Positive.”

  He lifted her fingers, pausing briefly before kissing each one. “I already have my pinstriped suit at the cleaners and a flight booked for Friday afternoon. You won’t miss me, baby. I promise.”

  He finally released her hand, allowing her bottom to settle comfortably on the soft, cushioned chair. She took a deep breath, hoping the action would cause her heart to slow to a normal speed, then opened the menu. “Good.”

  The rest of the evening went by without any surprises. It was filled with conversation, mostly about Steven and his news about the new position: the recognition, the honor. And like before, he reminded her of how rare an opportunity his internship truly was.

  Connor and Associates was the most prestigious Law Firm in Los Angeles, representatives of the rich, the famous, and the top secret. They allowed exactly five openings outside of Ivy League schools per year. Five. Which meant that Steven, who graduated summa cum laude out of UCLA’s law program and would have a bright future ahead of him no matter where he went, had just had the granddaddy of opportunities fall into his lap. This opening would never come again. There was no question about it.

  The more he spoke, the brighter his eyes became, and Samantha loved it. To watch his face glow. To see him actually giddy with excitement, like he’d gotten an autograph from his boyhood idol—or better yet, been asked to play in a game with his favorite team. It was awesome, because she’d practically grown up with Steven…and he was her best friend outside of Renee. Samantha was proud and excited for him, and she wouldn’t let her disappointment diminish that.

  It was late that evening when Steven finally pulled alongside the curb outside of Samantha’s apartment. She leaned forward, fetching her bag from the floor of his Prius where the long strap had somehow gotten tangled around her foot.

  “Are you sure you’re not mad at me about the trip?” Steven asked.

  He normally wasn’t so considerate, and the fact that he was made her glance up, finding him subdued and contemplative. She untangled the strap of her bag, took her time slowly rising in her seat, and narrowed her eyes “You mean about the internship? No, why would I be?”

  He lifted his shoulders. “You said everyone was expecting me.”

  She bit her bottom lip, looking down to her lap before responding. “They’ll get over it.”

  “Will you?”

  She met his kind brown eyes that were honest and sincere. “It’s a gift, in a way.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he adjusted in his seat to humor her. “How so?”

  “Ammunition.”

  “Ammunition?”

  “Yep. I’ll be able to hold this over your head for all eternity.”

  He laughed. “Is that right?”

  “It will go something like this: ‘Honey, I want a new car… Oh, and do you remember that time you ditched me?’, or ‘Steven, go get ice-cream, oh yeah, and do you remember that time you forced me to drive cross-country alone?” Samantha beamed. “See, it’s a gift that keeps on giving.”

  Steven shook his head, leaning forward to take her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “And I’ll give you everything, Sammie,” he whispered. “Not because I ditched you, but because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He gave her a quick kiss on the lips, reached for the automatic locks, and unlocked the door. “Now get out of my car so I can get some shut-eye!”

  She smiled and leaned back in the seat.

  “You think I’m joking,” he began again, “but I need to be at work in eight hours.” He leaned across the passenger seat and shoved the door open.

  “On a Saturday, really?”

  “They’re working on a big project and I said I’d help.” He raised his chin to the door and widened his eyes.

  “Okay, okay…” Samantha laughed, dragging the strap of her messenger bag over her head before climbing out of the car. “Call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes.”

  “Will do.” He smiled. “Now get your cute butt upstairs.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “I’m serious!”

  She straightened her back, throwing her hand to her forehead in a salute. “Yes Sir! Whatever you say, sir!”

  “Smart-ass.” He lifted his chin. “Go.”

  2

  Chapter Two

  Samantha grabbed a can of sparkling water out of her fridge and looked around her apartment. It felt… empty. Even though it was smothered in drawings, and cluttered with a mishmash of furniture. She pulled in a breath, downing half the can as she kicked her shoes to the center of the room.

  In a way, she was grateful Steven wasn’t going on the trip. Not that she wouldn’t cry with relief if he suddenly changed his mind- but she could really use some time to think.

  Her gallery opening hadn’t gone at all as planned. A month had passed, yet she still didn’t feel herself. Sure, plenty of people had attended, making it appear to be a huge, beautiful success to all who were watching. Reporters were sent out to cover the event, even a local photographer who was highly regarded for his skill. They were all singing her praises, taking pictures, and telling her how much they admired her creativity. But not a single person had actually wanted to purchase her art. Sure, there were a couple of offers from passersby—a couple of lowball offers that would barely cover the cost of the materials it took to create them… But each piece took more than a month to complete. More than a month of all the free time she could spare after her waitressing job at Donovan’s. She needed more than that. More than a lowball offer and some flattery… She needed real money, a huge “fuck you” in the form of a paycheck, to everyone who doubted her and her work.

  Her worth.

  Even Steven. She’d known for some time that he didn’t agree with her chosen career… and granted, he’d been the ear to her frustrations for the past two years…but a slab of concrete? The words still pinched at her heart and made her feel ill.

  Without thinking, she set the half-drunk can on the table and walked down the hall to stand at the door to her studio. She turned the handle, letting the door crack open before giving it a firm shove to swing wide on its hinges. Her eyes landed on the clay-spotted sheet that hung over the sculpture in the center of the room. The one she’d worked on for three months without coming up for air.

  It began the day her best friend called to say she was getting married. No hello, no greeting of any kind before the words exploded like a bomb through the receiver. “We’re getting married!”

  The news hit Samantha in a weird place. That grumpy, raw spot in the middle of her chest that she never wanted to admit existed. The place where jealousy, hurt, and discomfort twisted in intricate knots. She didn’t know why, because it wasn’t as though she begrudged Renee’s happiness, but she would be lying if she said the first emotion that rolled around in her stomach wasn’t sadness.

  Renee and Phin’s engagement happened so fast. Renee had only moved to New York six months before, and now she was getting married. Which meant that, as Samantha knew all too well, Renee was never coming back to LA. Their friendship would dwindle, the way relationships always did when people moved apart, and Samantha would lose the only friend who ever really understood her. The one person she could be herself with, who knew her battle with a wild heart, and all the things she dreamed of doing.

  She hung up the phone that day in shock. Almost with grief, as she made it back to her studio. But she didn’t pick up the pieces where she’d left off. No, she started something new. The sculpture took on a life of its own. Samantha’s hands moved through the clay with a passion she hadn’t felt in years, and the fire inside her didn’t stop for months.

  Every day she continued to work. Adding, sculpting, and perfecting it…and working through all the emotion
s and disappointments that had been churning through her blood for the past year.

  She spent more time on that one sculpture than she any other piece she’d ever created. Slab of concrete. She pushed the words down to her stomach and flicked off the light.

  Her home, which was once filled with the constant commotion of her best friend’s personality, was now empty. Renee’s bedroom across the hall would never again be filled with laughter, nor the stinky ballet shoes Samantha always complained about. It was funny how the thing she thought she disliked most about Renee could be one of the things she longed for most when she was gone. But in her heart of hearts, she never thought they’d be apart. Never thought she’d be more than a thirty-minute drive away from resting her head on her best friend’s shoulder.

  Samantha grabbed the suitcase out of the closet and dragged it down the hall, determined not to think about it anymore. Sulking wouldn’t bring her friend back, and in truth, she was happy for Renee. It was time to face the sad reality that at the tender age of twenty-three, her childhood days were over. Her best friend was gone, would be married in a couple of weeks, and Samantha’s dreams of supporting herself through her art were fading.

  She needed to come up with a plan for her future, a real plan—because making a living doing something she loved was a fool’s quest. She never believed it before, but after last month’s opening, she realized her sculptures were a fluttering dream, and when she came back from NY she would pack up her studio and begin working on a real career… The thing that would pay her bills, ‘something grown up and respectable.’