I Hate You

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  My head swivels and I take in a guy with short auburn-colored hair who’s walked up to her. Wait a damn minute. Isn’t he the one I saw giving her a once-over at Cadillac’s?

  Oh.

  Hell.

  No.

  “I’m her partner,” I say as I walk over and stand next to her.

  Chess Guy looks up at me, gets a load of my I’ll pulverize you look, and backs away slowly.

  What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t own her. Not even close.

  “So, you ARE taking fencing?” she asks, exasperation in her voice.

  “Depends how I like it today. I can always add it.” I arch a brow.

  She stills and frowns, the soft lines of her oval face flattening. “Blaze…please don’t take this class.”

  Shit. She really doesn’t want to be near me. My heart twinges as her words snake around inside my chest. I did that to her. I removed her from my life in a public way that everyone knew about, even though that wasn’t my intention, and it made her hate me.

  I stare at her. “Can you handle being close to me for just one more hour? Will you give me that? I’m not going to register for this class, okay?”

  Her lashes flutter, but she nods.

  “Everyone grab a practice foil,” comes from the instructor. He goes on to tell us his name is Chaz then he runs through the syllabus for the semester, which is basically us learning how to poke at each other. No books involved. I got this.

  We grab the swords, each one a thin wooden blade with a ball at the tip covering the pointed end.

  “Barritus!” I call out with the sword in the air, and a few nearby students glare my way. I wave and give them a grin. “What’s up? Cool class, right?” They blink and turn back to each other. I look at Charisma; she’s glaring too, but her lip is twitching.

  “Dammit. Stop making people dizzy with that smile…and what the hell is ‘Barritus’?”

  I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in days. She likes my crazy—or she did.

  “War cry of the Roman soldier.”

  “Of course it is.” She smiles and…I think…I think I’d do anything to keep that smile there.

  I shake myself. You’re done with her, dude. DONE.

  I wave the foil around. “Did you know the legions usually marched in silence to maintain order in their ranks? But once they encountered the enemy, they would erupt with that war cry and freak everyone out. They’d use their shields to roughen the sound, making it rumble and reverberate across the battlefield.” I tap my head. “The Romans were masters at battle.”

  “Is that what you call out when you take the football field?”

  “Nope, but I should.”

  She toys with the ball on the end of her sword, her words nonchalant. “I watched the big game. I saw you make a few big plays.”

  My breath hitches. “Yeah?”

  “Dammit. Stop grinning. You were amazing and you know it. I had my whole family around the TV watching!”

  Awe fills my mind. She watched. She…watched me. Something stirs deep within, soft and warm, shifting, aching to get out, desperate to walk up to her and just wrap my arms—

  Chaz approaches our mat and grimaces as he takes in my tall body and her petite one. “You two really don’t go together.”

  “I know, but he insisted,” she says dryly. “I suspect he wants to pulverize me.”

  Chaz gives me a long, lingering glance, brushing over my frame. He comes back to my face, blinks, and then blushes.

  I just smile. I’m used to men checking me out since coming to Waylon. I don’t lean that way, but I don’t have a problem with people who do.

  We have a player on the team, Kent, a linebacker who told us he was gay our freshman year at training camp. For the most part—except for assholes like Archer—everyone supports him.

  That wouldn’t have been the case with my aunt and uncle. They attend a small judgmental church in Alma. At fourteen, I announced I was done. I didn’t feel at home sitting in that pew every Sunday, especially with the folks who knew my parents, people who had gone to high school with them.

  I heard the whispers.

  What a terrible tragedy.

  He’s never going to amount to anything.

  My hands tighten around my foil, and I shake myself and tune back in to the conversation I’m missing. Focus. Save your randoms for later.

  “…his size will put you at a severe disadvantage,” Chaz is saying to her.

  “That’s what I keep telling him, but it fits better than you’d think,” she replies.

  Nah, oh nah. She did not just…

  Her amber eyes glint at me. She did. I put my fist up to hold back a laugh.

  Chaz stares at her without comprehending.

  I clear my throat. “I’m sure she’ll hold her own against me. Don’t let this body of mine fool you, sir. I’m a pushover.”

  He sighs and walks away with an if you say so look on his face.

  “Where did you go just now, while he was talking?” she asks.

  “Random thoughts.” I shake my flimsy sword. “So why are you taking fencing?”

  She moves into the beginning stance Chaz demonstrated for us. “I figured it would be a good skill to have when the zombies finally rise up and try to kill us all.”

  “I spent a summer cutting down trees on my uncle’s farm with a chainsaw for the same reason. To be honest, I don’t think that would be my weapon of choice on that fateful day. Too heavy.”

  Chaz holds up his sword in the center of the room. “The foils we’ll be using today are very flimsy, but after you learn the basics, we will move on to something stiffer.”

  Stiffer?

  I glance at Charisma, but her face is carefully blank.

  “First we will work on proper positioning to line up your partner for a firm thrust.” Chaz does a little move with his feet, looking amazingly light as he jumps around. “Like so. If you are positioned properly, you can easily thrust in, out, in, out, and not run out of energy. Stamina is very important.”

  “Do you think he hears himself, or is he completely oblivious to the sexual innuendoes?” I’ve walked closer to her and whisper in her ear.

  “He has to know.” A blush rises on her cheeks, and I’m fascinated by it. Is she thinking about us? About me inside her?

  “Maybe. Some people are oblivious even when shit is right in front of them.”

  Her eyes study me. “Sometimes obliviousness is a defense mechanism.”

  “Sometimes you need to remember that not everyone has ulterior motives.” I pause and step back. She smells too fucking good, and I’m saying things I shouldn’t be. “What is your parents’ relationship like?”

  Her mouth opens. “You’re doing twenty questions in the middle of class?”

  “Trust me, my ADHD lets me do a hundred things at once. Sometimes it’s a curse, but I’ve learned to roll with it.”

  She purses her lips. “Pop, like you, has enough charm to get in my sixth grade teacher’s panties, but Ma still loves him. I suspect he’s cheated more than once.” She pauses. “I won’t ever be that girl.”

  Whoa. I didn’t expect that, and I read her face, seeing the way her forehead furrows.

  Like you? What the hell?

  “Don’t get me wrong—I adore him. He’s my dad, but Ma…that kind of love is either stupid or so committed and deep that I’ll never be able to understand it.”

  “Huh. Any high school boyfriends you left behind?” I know for a fact she’s never had a serious boyfriend at Waylon. I asked Ryker, who asked Penelope.

  Her face hardens. “I thought I was in love with this guy once, but…”

  “What?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. He taught me a good lesson.”

  I frown. “Which was?”

  She gives me a long look, her face unsmiling, eyes crinkling as if she’s thinking hard about what to say, as if she’s reliving something…

  “What the fuck did he do
to you?” My voice has risen, and a few students look over at us.

  “He asked me to prom on a dare. Once he got the money for doing it, he left me and hung out with the girl he really wanted to take.”

  I’m full-on frowning. “Why would he do that, Charm?”

  She stills, blinking rapidly. “I didn’t hit my growth spurt for height until the summer before college. In school, I was even shorter than I am now, with no waist, you know, like…like a blob walking down the hall.” She stares at the floor and then looks back up at me. “Chubby Charm. That’s what he called me.”

  A muscle in my face pops. “What’s his name? Where does he live?”

  “You going to defend my honor?”

  “Hell yeah—with my fist in his face,” I growl.

  “I’m over it. Look at me now—city girl.” She attempts a smile.

  “Are you really over it?” I had names thrown at me from my parents, and I still stew on them. Piece of shit sticks out the most.

  “Most of the time. I’m tougher now, older, and I know kids say mean things, know it usually points back to what’s wrong with them. I came to Waylon and put it behind me.”

  Is this and her dad the reason for her rules?

  Is it why she’s never let herself have a real boyfriend?

  I’m about to ask her when Chaz continues, “And if you are really good, you will find that you can create one final satisfying deep thrust at just the right moment to ensure the total annihilation of your partner.”

  Charisma’s face gets pink again and a giggle escapes. “OMG. He is killing me. Make it stop.”

  “Please spend the rest of class thrusting at each other to gain experience,” Chaz instructs.

  We lock eyes and try to hide our laughter. I take advantage of her distractedness and poke my foil at her shoulder.

  “Your turn,” I say as I pull back.

  “To poke you?”

  “To tell me something.”

  “I just told you all kinds of stuff about my pop and some stupid guy! Hardly anyone knows that except Penelope!”

  “Tell me something good.” I poke at her and she dodges.

  “Fine. I love horror movies, even though blood grosses me out.” She plunges her foil into my chest with proper form.

  “Really? You like being scared? Huh.”

  She nods. “Being terrified is kinda the point, to be sucked into the mind and body of the lead character to the point where you feel what they feel and hurt when they hurt. What’s your favorite movie?”

  “Say Anything with John Cusack.”

  “STFU.” She drops her foil to her side, and I take the opportunity to lunge toward her and hit her in the leg.

  I grin. “First love really gets to me, and John’s character…man, he went all out when it came to winning the heart of the girl everyone told him he couldn’t have. Dude had balls, and I admire that. Plus, he had a kickass sister and a cute little nephew he taught kickboxing to. I watched a lot of movies growing up.”

  “Just a movie buff?”

  “Mostly enjoyed seeing families on TV, you know, how they interacted and cared about each other.”

  She gives me a stunned look, her mouth parting. “Because your parents died?”

  “Yeah.” I’m surprised the admission about my preference of movies came out of my mouth. I never talk or hint about how it was for me growing up. But it’s her. And things feel different since the grocery store.

  “Less talk, more work, students!” Chaz says, clapping his hands at us.

  We move around each other, each of our foils raised as we continue the poses. She seems distracted, and I am too, thinking about her past and mine and how it’s shaped both of us.

  “Put your foils on the rack and dream about the stiff ones we’ll have next time in class,” Chaz announces.

  “He’s doing it on purpose! Has to be!” Charisma whispers, and we chuckle then put our swords away, grab our bags, and head out of class.

  We stop on the steps. “What’s your next class?” she asks.

  “History of Rome. You?”

  “I have a break.”

  “I’ll see you in psych on Wednesday then.” My eyes search hers; I’m not sure what I’m looking for.

  People spill out of the buildings and walk around us, yet we’re unmoving.

  She chews on that lip. “I actually took that Rome class last year as an elective and loved it.”

  “Great. I could use some help with it. You free soon?”

  She stiffens. “Oh, I’m really busy—”

  “Come on, help a guy out.” I’m not sure what’s come over me, but she gave me an opening, so I’m jumping in and taking advantage.

  Her eyes fly up to mine. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Blaze.”

  “It totally is a great idea. You’re smart, and I struggle. I—I usually go over notes the day after classes and before the next one. I mean, I hate to be presumptuous, but are you free to help me around eight tomorrow night?”

  She thinks on it for a while, her gaze averted as she looks down at her books.

  Shit. What am I doing? She and I…we need to stay away from each other.

  “I mean, if you’re busy, it’s cool.“

  Her chest rises. “The library? Tomorrow?”

  “Hell yeah,” I say, feeling breathless.

  She gives me a curt nod. “Okay. No funny stuff though, Blaze. Just studying.”

  I smirk. “Course not. Just me and you and a textbook. Friends, right?”

  She pauses, her face unsmiling. “Right…friends.”

  11

  I’m lifting weights when Ryker and a man I don’t recognize waltz into the gym. The guy he’s with is tall, maybe forty, and wearing a slick gray suit. Big and bulky, he looks like a former player.

  Ryker sees me and throws up a wave as they make their way over to me.

  I let the weights go and stand up taller, straightening my shoulders.

  Ryker slaps me on the back. “Blaze Townsend, meet Cedrick Clemmons.”

  I nod at the smiling man and shake his hand. Big money, no doubt. I feel it oozing out, from his expensive leather loafers to the styled hair and spray tan. “Sir. Nice to meet you.”

  Ryker smiles. “He’s a scout for the Giants and came down to talk to me. They get the number one pick this year.” He waggles his brows. Dude is flying high with all the attention he’s getting. Rightly so. He’s got an agent already, and I haven’t asked what his signing advance was—not my business—but I bet it was better than a convertible Mustang.

  “Awesome,” I say. “Glad you could make it down to check him out. Ryker is a sure thing, the real deal.”

  We exchange small talk, but soon they’re discussing the offense of the Giants, and I just stand there, unsure of how to extricate myself and get back to my workout. I drift off and think about my study session later with Charisma. I saw a chance to spend more time with her and I took it.

  Why? Am I insane?

  Why would I put myself in the position to be with her again, especially in the library—

  I come back when I see that Ryker is looking at me, his forehead furrowed. I guess they finished their conversation.

  Get your ass in the game, his eyes say.

  He glances at Mr. Clemmons and then me. “I thought it would be good for Cedrick to meet my main target for the past four years. We kicked ass, right, bro?”

  Ah, I see. He’s working it, getting me an intro.

  I smile broader. “Yes, we did.”

  Cedrick studies me, an analytical look on his face, sizing me up, probably trying to figure out if he needs a wide receiver.

  Sweat pops out on my forehead, more than just from the workout, and drips down my cheek. I rake a hand through my hair to get it out of my face. If I’d known a scout was going to be here, I would have planned better, maybe a shower with real clothes on. Shit. But then, I guess he wants to size me up, and the gym is the perfect place for that.

  Cedrick�
�s got super white teeth when he smiles. “Ryker tells me you’re an overlooked commodity and you’ll make some pro team happy if they take a shot. People aren’t talking you up much, but you never know.”

  I know they’re not. I wake up every day and check ESPN.

  “Good to know, Mr. Clemmons.” My voice is stilted. He’s standing there in probably a thousand-dollar suit, and I’m just a kid from Mississippi.

  “Cedrick, please. Mr. Clemmons is my daddy,” he says with a Southern drawl, but it almost sounds like he’s overplaying the accent. I’m sure it isn’t for my benefit, but Ryker’s.

  He continues. “Of course, if you run well at the Combine, you’ll rise up everyone’s boards. You know what they say—you can’t teach speed.” He chuckles.

  I have speed. I fucking have it all, but no one’s going to see it. “I haven’t gotten an invitation.”

  Cedrick pauses, surprise on his face. He looks uncomfortable as he straightens his tie, and I can feel him losing interest with every second that passes. “Oh, I didn’t realize that.”

  “Yeah,” I say, crossing my arms.

  Ryker gives me a brief frown, and there’s a long awkward pause—and I should probably say something right now, but for some reason I can’t.

  I didn’t get invited.

  Everyone knows, but he didn’t, because he doesn’t even know who I am.

  He glances back at Ryker. “Well, I need to get to Jackson to catch my flight. Good talking to you, Ryker. I’ll see you at the Combine. Nice to meet you, Blaze.” He gives me a nod and a quick smile, but it doesn’t seem encouraging.

  “Let me walk you to the door,” Ryker says and they head off to the front of the gym.

  With a deep exhalation, I watch them leave for a few seconds then turn back to my workout.

  A chuckle comes from Archer as he works a butterfly machine. “Smooth move, Blaze. An NFL scout in front of you and you went all pussy.”

  My jaw tightens. He’s right. I should have been charming; I should have been on my knees begging him to watch me run.

  Ryker comes back into the gym and stalks over to me. “What the hell was that? I just introduced you to the lead scout from the Giants, and you were off in la-la land. You need to be buttering these guys up, Blaze.”