Hate Me, Take Me: A Hate-to-Love Duet

by Clare James

  “I was helping Jenna with her dog, he escaped out the door I’d propped open,” I explained.

  “And I was going to return the favor by helping him with his pants,” Jenna chimed in. With that, Tabby yanked me inside before I could say goodbye to my new neighbor.

  “We’ve got it covered, Jenna. He won’t be needing any of your help.”

  Well, that was one more distraction out of the way. It was probably for the best. Jenna had made life hell for Tabby when she first moved here. The realization was a giant kick to the balls. The girl that I’d been salivating over? She was my sister’s archenemy, Noah’s ex-girlfriend, and all-around mean girl. And that meant she was completely off-limits.

  But the question on my mind was how was I supposed to stay away from her when she lived across the hall?

  Jenna

  “So what’ve we got?” I asked Gloria when I arrived at the shelter. I almost didn’t want to hear the bad news, but it was a welcome distraction from this morning.

  Is it crazy that I thought it was a little fun? Being on the receiving end of a flirty boy’s attention, and then sparring with Tabby. It reminded me of my old life, when I dated Noah and bickered with Jules. Although in the case with Jules, it was all in good fun. We were best friends, after all, which was the complete opposite of my relationship with both her and Tabby these days.

  In my head, I knew my pain and loneliness wasn’t Tabby’s fault. It’s not as if she swooped in and deliberately stole my life—I did a pretty good job messing it up before Tabby was even in the picture. Still, sometimes, it did feel like she’d taken my place, and my heart didn’t understand.

  Truth was, I had no interest in Noah anymore. I hadn’t for some time. It was just that he was the only person who seemed to understand me and he let me lash out and be a total bitch after my brother Ben died. I knew he felt guilty because he thought he should’ve been there, driving instead Ben that night. Foster thought the same and Jules thought there was more she could’ve done, too. But that burden wasn’t on any of them. After visits with enough shrinks, I knew it wasn’t completely on me as well—despite what my parents believed.

  “We’ve got two new residents, thanks to a drop-off overnight, two pit bull puppies.” Gloria pulled me back out of my head. She was good at that. “Thankfully, they’re mixed with a beagle, so that might be their only saving grace.”

  More than sixty percent of our residents—as Gloria preferred to call them—were some breed of pit bull, which made them difficult to adopt out. Pit Bull Terriers were the red-headed stepchild in the doggie adoption business because of all the bad press. Every time we had a new one show up, my heart squeezed because I knew they’d be with us for a while.

  “Two more that might be with us for a while,” I repeated my thoughts to Gloria. “Which means we need to get some of these guys adopted today.” Okay, it was time to focus.

  “That’s right, but I do have some good news.”

  I raised a brow and waved my hand telling her to give it to me.

  “We have two families coming for a second visit. And a new couple looking for an older dog.”

  Sadly, that rarely happened. It was the puppies and young dogs who got the most action. But every once in a while you’d see someone come in who wanted to give a dog a good home for the last few years of its life. I called them the angels.

  “Okay, then.” I smiled at Gloria, summoning my positive attitude. “Let’s find some forever homes today.”

  “You have such a good heart, Jenna dear.”

  She really had no idea.

  I started with tidying up the front reception area. Saturdays were typically the busiest and Gloria had obviously been swamped, but if it looked like a pigsty then it’d have an impact on our visitors. Gloria didn’t understand “the experience” piece to the game that I did. I think she figured that dog lovers would look beyond everything if they fell in love with a pet. I saw the world a little differently. People weren’t as loving and forgiving as we made them out to be.

  Once the place was more presentable, I joined one of the young families looking at our two-year-old Basset Hound. The two kids looked to be about four and six and they were petting Clyde non-stop. The little one even took to driving his matchbox cars up and down his back. Clyde couldn’t have cared less. He was sweet that way.

  Keep it up, buddy. You’ve almost got them.

  The parents were nice enough, though the mom reminded me of mine. Perfect. Uptight. Proper. It had me worrying about my friend Clyde, who, unbeknownst to them, had quite the flatulence problem.

  Just keep it together a little longer.

  Really, once they got him home, they might just chalk his digestion issues up to the move. And by the time they figured out he had the gas of an entire sixth grade class of boys, he’d already have made his mark on the family and they would’ve claimed him as their own. Or…we’d have poor Clyde back in a week’s time. Either way, it was worth a shot.

  But then, as little Ethan spun out the matchbox car on Clyde’s back, he went and did it.

  The loudest passing of gas you’d ever heard.

  Well, it was a nice run, buddy.

  As expected, the mom’s mouth dropped and her eyes looked like they were ready to pop out of her head. I knew it wasn’t just the sound of his little explosion, it was the dang smell.

  But then, she did something I did not expect.

  The mom’s face completely crinkled up before she broke down in a fit of laughter—which only made the kids laugh harder.

  “He sounds like Dad,” the younger one exclaimed.

  And to that, her face turned bright red.

  “What do you think, family?” The mom asked once they all recovered. “Do we need a Clyde in our lives?”

  Yes, yes you do.

  They had a little family conference and I crossed my fingers.

  “He definitely seems to be comfortable around us,” the mom said before turning to me with a grin. “Could we start the paperwork? We’d love to adopt Clyde.”

  I warmed from the inside out. This part of the job never got old. “Of course,” I told her, “right this way.”

  Then I gave Clyde a thumbs-up. It seemed people could surprise you after all.

  The rest of the morning went by in a blur of hellos and goodbyes, near misses, and cleanup of every variety. Gloria worked on the couple with the senior dog and closed the deal beautifully. That was the part where she excelled. So we were back within our limits for occupancy at the shelter. Gloria was able to submit the proper paperwork to the city and they gave us the all clear.

  Suck it, Sullivan.

  A little later, a cute-ish younger guy came in and it had me thinking about Michael all over again. His eyes…and who was I kidding? That body. Michael was built in that long and lean way that looked good both shirtless and under a suit. The evil part of me had to laugh a little bit at the situation, and how Tabby burned up when she saw my face. I could tell she was absolutely convinced I was going to corrupt her precious brother.

  Boy did I want to.

  “So what are you here for?” I asked the cute guy before chanting my mantra dogs before dudes. I’d spent far too much time at work reliving every moment with Michael, and imagining what he looked like naked. I know. Seriously, I had issues.

  “A dog, of course.” He smiled.

  “And you filled out the questionnaire already?” I took the paper from his hand. “Color me impressed.”

  “When I’m serious about something, I do it right.”

  From his lips, I mused. It was so refreshing to talk to animal lovers. They were my people. I looked over the questionnaire and liked him more and more with each answer I read. He was looking for a dog to love. Boy or girl? He checked either, but preferred a girl if possible. Young or old? He’d be up for both, but had the time to train a puppy. Breed? Any breed that was active and social because he was looking for a partner who could keep up with him. Awwww.

  He was des
cribing Ruby.

  “Hmmm,” I eyed him up closely. “I think I have just the dog for you.”

  I wasn’t in the habit of giving out my home address, but hey, we were desperate. Plus, Ruby was worth it. And this guy was harmless. So we set up a get-to-know-you meeting at my place for next week.

  “Great,” he said with a handshake that seemed to last a beat too long. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Why did I get the feeling he was talking about more than just meeting Ruby?

  5

  Michael

  The next few days go something like this: I wake up to barking dogs and try not to think about Jenna. I see her on my way to the station walking the mutts—the big one always eyes me up, but the human girl pretends she doesn’t see me. And I go to bed to the sound of twelve paws skittering around the apartment across the hall, once again trying not to think of their owner.

  Occasionally, I’d see her out running. Sometimes twice a day. She was so focused. Intense. The more I noticed her, the more I noticed about her. She was not an easy girl to figure out, and that made me want to all the more. What was it about forbidden fruit that made the cravings intolerable?

  Tabby was irate when she realized who my neighbor was—she went so far as to insist I move back in with her until I found a new place. I managed to talk her down, promising that I’d stay away from her rival.

  But each and every time I ran into the girl, or hell, even when I caught her scent in the hallway, my body had an, er, very physical reaction. It made me feel like such an asshole, like I was betraying Tab, even though I’d seen nothing from Jenna that remotely resembled the exchanges that Tab had told me about. Except, of course, when they had their confrontation outside my door.

  The fact of the matter was she really seemed sweet and kind. The patience she had with animals was impressive, and she was always doing something nice for the neighbors like bringing in the newspapers from the lobby, or picking up garbage someone had left behind. She also seemed to be boring as hell, like me. So far, she’d had no visitors, or parties, or social interaction of any kind. From what I gathered, she did nothing more than work at the shelter, walk the mutts, and run.

  Well, until Monday came around.

  Then, what emerged from apartment 2C turned into a goddamn Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde shitshow. We both left for campus at the same time, so we were walking down the hallway together. I tried pretending she wasn’t there, as she’d done with me, but it wasn’t working. Plus, something was off. I hardly recognized my new neighbor. Her cute athletic get-ups were replaced with a tiny skirt, tall boots, and a body-skimming top that left little to the imagination. Her makeup-free face was now a perfect piece of art, and her demeanor overflowed with confidence. She seemed taller, her strides longer, her steps louder. Jenna was a tiny little force of badass.

  Jesus, even her sweet cinnamon scent had been replaced with some exotic fragrance—one that said I’m too good for you, don’t even think about it.

  It was a shock to my system, seeing her this way. Though it was how I was introduced to her when I was with Tabby and Jules over the summer. Jenna in her cold perfection, except with me. With me, she had flirted—which I now knew was her way to get under my sister’s skin. But how I didn’t remember her on move-in day was beyond me. She left quite an impression, and she was exactly the type of girl I used to go for.

  There’s a saying that every girl marries her father and every boy marries his mother. Well, despite being completely twisted, it was dead wrong in my case. My mother is the sweetest, most gentle woman in the world, but I watched my father tromp all over her, my grandparents, too. Even her sisters. I watched her lose herself bit by bit each year, even though she always managed to save enough for me. But the way the others treated her, broke her heart. I know it sounds corny, but I think it actually made her sick. She was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s when I was in junior high and she was hospitalized before I hit high school. She never came back home. Today, she’s in a memory care home in Illinois. I visit whenever I can, but she hasn’t recognized me since I was fifteen.

  Watching her suffer through her life was crushing and made me feel so freaking powerless that I went the other way with everything. Cocky, strong, arrogant pricks for friends and I usually opted for the basic bitch variety of girlfriends—though I could never be bothered to stay long enough to really call anyone more than a hookup.

  “Morning, Michael,” Jenna purred. It was the only way I could describe it. This was someone who knew how to get what she wanted from men.

  I had to admit, she put me off balance.

  Below the belt? I had the same goddamn reaction as I did every time I saw her. Pure fucking lust.

  “Jenna.” I gave her a curt nod.

  After Tabby’s assault, I’d promised myself no more one-night-stands. I didn’t like the thought that I was using someone. But the urges around Jenna were becoming uncontrollable, and I needed something to take the edge off. Maybe it was time to take Noah up on his many offers to go out on a little bender, and maybe I could find a girl who was looking for the same thing I was—a fun night, a quick distraction, with no strings attached.

  I had to find some way to get back to being the master of my domain. Seriously. It was fucking ridiculous.

  “What happened to the prep school outfit?” she said with a grin, obviously referring to the stupid polo shirt and pants I had to wear when I interned at the police station. Her green eyes rolled over my jeans and leather jacket that I had on now—it might be March, but it was still cold as shit outside.

  Ah, so she had been paying attention to me over the weekend after all.

  “Number one: it’s not an outfit, it’s a uniform for my internship with the MPD. Two: What’s with the sudden interest in my attire?” Funny thing was, I did spend a few years at prep school, and even a stint in military school during my rebellious years. And as much as I hated my dad for insisting on it, I couldn’t deny I did better with rules. Law and order was a good thing for me.

  “I could ask you the same thing. You seemed very interested when I walked out the door.” She was using the same voice she did when Tabby was around—a sugary sweet tone that clipped the end of each word. “See something you like?”

  “I’m more curious as to why you’d wear those high-heeled fuck-me boots to class,” I said. Okay, that was a little crude, but her smugness was bugging the shit out of me, especially when I knew it was fake.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She raised her brow in challenge.

  “I’m not sure, I’m getting a strange Venus flytrap vibe here.”

  She laughed at that. This other version of the girl I met out in the courtyard was not easily shaken. Why did that fascinate me so much?

  Our banter lasted the long walk to west campus. I was really digging the location of my new place. It was far enough from campus to escape the social scene, but close enough to walk or use public transportation if the weather sucked.

  I pushed the crosswalk light, while Jenna simply bolted through the intersection.

  “You’re jaywalking,” I called out to her.

  “And you’re going to be late to class if you wait on that light.”

  She was right, it was taking a long time for it to switch over. Fuck it, I ran across the street and quickly caught up to her.

  But once I spotted Tab across campus, I veered as far away from the enemy as I could. For Tabby’s sake, that’s how I’d keep it.

  I had to.

  * * *

  For the rest of the week, I kept my contact with Jenna to the minimum, though I did watch her on campus where she led this second life. She was constantly surrounded by girls who imitated her style and mannerisms and guys who sniffed around, waiting for any sort of scrap of attention she’d give them.

  But when she’d try to engage me with an insult or jab on our way to class, I let it roll off for the most part, only responding with one-word answers when I absolutely couldn’t help
myself.

  Today, I didn’t have to worry about the walk to campus. Fridays, I worked down at the station. Christ, was it buzzing this morning. The end of the week was the busiest. It seemed like the population in general tended to lose its shit every Friday. Highest incidents of homicide, domestic violence, aggravated assault…you got it, all on Fridays. And that meant the guys on duty were either on edge or amped up depending on how long they’d been on the job.

  For me, I was amped up.

  “Michael, you’re with Jones today,” Captain told me at the morning meeting.

  I’d been interning for more than a month now and so far, I’d only gone on a few ride-alongs. I spent most of my time with paperwork and bookings, so this was a helluva treat.

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “Jones, fill him in. We got another call from Sullivan today.”

  We hung around until the end of the meeting, and then went to Jones’ desk. He set me up in my own work area close by. I tried to act cool, but he could sense my excitement.

  “Don’t cream your briefs, kid,” he told me. “It’s just until the end of your internship.” Ryder Jones was a serious badass. In his mid-thirties, he was athletic as hell and always wore an expression like he was ready to fuck someone up. He was usually on the best cases, so I was dying to know what we’d be working on.

  He logged onto the computer at the desk and pulled up a file called Top Dog.

  “Read up on this and we’ll do a looksee after lunch,” he said.

  “Alright,” I said, taking a seat and trying to keep my voice steady. I took a long swig of the PD variety coffee, which was shitty as hell—just as it was portrayed in all the movies. I set the cup on the desk and pulled out a small, thin notebook to jot down anything that seemed important.

  Top Dog. Okay, that must be code for something, right?

  It wasn’t.

  It was the name of an animal shelter—one that had quite the list of offenses a few years back. I read through the file and took some notes and had a second cup of coffee before I went over to bother Jones.