I Hate You

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  Mustering up my courage, I knock and wait.

  The door flies open and I blink.

  Looking magnificent in a rumpled and mussed way, Blaze leans against the doorjamb. He holds a bowl of popcorn and pops a few kernels in his mouth as he takes me in, eyebrow arched.

  “You’re late.”

  “Ma called me. My brother Mattie is dating a Protestant and she’s spying on him, reading his text messages. I had to hear all about it. The usual.”

  “She sounds really into her kids.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Yeah.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face, and I bite my lip, realizing he probably never had a pain-in-the-ass mom constantly checking up on him.

  I take in his soft T-shirt with a hole in the shoulder, faded jeans, and bare feet.

  I want the ground to open up and swallow me. “Obviously, I overdressed.”

  He invites me inside. “Nah, you’re fine.”

  I take in the small area with a couch, two chairs, and a huge TV on the media center. I’ve been here before but only got a cursory look around. It appears to be clean for a guy’s place, and I think he straightened it up before I arrived.

  “Dillon is out, and Ryker’s with Penelope.” He tosses a look at me over his shoulder. “It’s just you and me.”

  “Okay.” I take a seat on the couch, and he sits in the chair across from me.

  “You want some popcorn?” He tilts his head toward the bowl in his lap.

  I shake my head.

  This is weird. I way overdressed, and he’s…distant?

  My shoulders tense, and I roll my neck.

  “How’s Vampire Bill?”

  “Great. Pen and I had to hold him down to give him the drops, but he’s fine.”

  “Good.”

  A few seconds tick by.

  He jumps up. “Want to listen to some music?” He doesn’t even wait for me to reply before he’s connecting his phone to the speakers. Music blares in the room.

  He turns around and goes into the kitchen, calling back at me. “I’ve got soda, beer, and vodka—what’s your poison?”

  He lingers there, waiting for me to reply. His finger taps his leg, and his other hand is fisted, pressed tight against his lips.

  He’s freaking nervous.

  I am too.

  I cross my legs and clasp my hands in my lap. “A shot of vodka would be…great.” I need the courage.

  “Cool. I’ll just have water. Combine’s coming up and I want to stay tight.” He gives me a quick nod, pivots, and makes his way to the fridge.

  And now I’m the only one drinking! KMN. Kill me now.

  He stays in the kitchen forever, but I won’t look to see what he’s up to.

  Oh, lord, stop. Relax.

  Finally he’s back. Instead of putting the glass in my hands, he sets it on the coffee table in front of me. I toss it back faster than I should have and cough a little.

  “You good?” He’s back in his seat, his forearms tight as he rests them on the sides of the chair.

  I nod and clear my throat. “Some of your guys met me on the landing.”

  “They give you any trouble?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle. They knew who I was.”

  He looks away. “Yeah. That’s on me. I told everyone to stay clear of my room. I told them I had a date.”

  Oh.

  Oh.

  He watches me. “I have a movie if you wanna watch? Or a show?” He looks around uncertainly.

  “Okay.”

  He stands again. “We can’t watch out here though. Dillon will be home soon and there’s no telling who’ll be with him. I have a TV in my room. It’s small, but it gets the job done. We’ll have to sit on my bed.”

  “Sure.”

  He walks over and reaches out to help me up from the couch. His hand engulfs mine and I think back to how he held Bill. So careful.

  He doesn’t let go as we walk down the hall and enter his room.

  It’s the usual dorm setup and I take it in again, from the navy and orange comforter to the trophies scattered around, some on the floor, some on his dresser where the TV is. His room is messy, but it fits him.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks as he faces me.

  “I… Do you have a shirt and maybe a pair of shorts I can put on? Me in this dress will not work on your bed. It’s going to ride up and I’ll be squirming—”

  He lets go of my hand and is at his dresser, holding up shirts for me. “This one?” It’s a soft pale blue with a tiger on it. “It’s one of my practice shirts from Alma. It’s old but pretty much the softest and smallest thing I own.”

  “Perfect.” I take it from him along with a pair of gray shorts and dart into his bathroom to change.

  I ease the door shut and move fast, finding a hook and slipping my dress on it. I kick off my shoes and set them in the corner.

  Once that’s done, I make sure I still look presentable. My eyes take in the motivational notes taped there, lingering on You is all you have. I think about him vowing to be good for his aunt and uncle but still feeling left out in the end.

  I come out and he’s already propped up against the headboard, pillows behind him. He pats the area next to him. “Or I can bring a chair in here for you?”

  A chair? Is he for real?

  “No, the bed is great.”

  “I like my shirt on you.”

  I touch the hem, which reaches my lower hips. “It’s big.”

  “You look good.” The words are gruff.

  I swallow. “What movie are you pulling up?”

  He’s got the remote in his hand and looks down as if he’d forgotten. “How about some old episodes of HBO’s Rome? You a fan?”

  I laugh as I ease up on the bed until I’m sitting next to him. “I haven’t seen it, actually, but I heard it was great.”

  An hour later, we’re in deep, and some of the tension has eased. There’s another bowl of popcorn between us, and we’re tearing it up as we stare at the TV. The room is dark since he got up earlier and turned the lights off, and the only illumination comes from the glow of the screen.

  “I can’t believe how they stabbed Caesar—ugh—and Mark Antony is a useless politician. Well, except for that speech on the steps of the capitol. He’s a lucky sonofabitch. Does he screw everyone in this show?” I say as he sweet-talks a girl in a tavern on screen.

  “Hmmm, he gets what’s coming to him later in Egypt—”

  “Don’t spoil it.” I throw a piece of popcorn at Blaze.

  He catches it in his mouth.

  “It’s Cleopatra, right? She’s the end of him. She uses an asp?”

  “Not telling you, but bad girls are usually the end of men.”

  I snort. “There are two other whole seasons! I’ll never catch up.”

  “You will. You’ll catch up. I’m catching up, Charm.”

  There’s an earnest quality to his voice, and I glance at him.

  Did he mean something else when he said that?

  Later, I’m closer to him, my leg pressed against his, and his hand…it sits right next to mine, his pinkie softly touching my skin. It’s not even a caress, just an acknowledgement that he’s aware of me, and I shiver.

  “You cold?” His head leans down.

  “No. Yes. Maybe.” My stomach flutters. “I’m all over the place.”

  “Yeah, I know. You’re fidgeting worse than I do. I wonder why?” His hand tilts my chin up and he stares down at me.

  “What?” I say, feeling strung out. We’ve been sitting here for three hours and I’m anxious. What are we going to talk about?

  “I’ve been wondering…am I the only guy you’ve kissed at Waylon?”

  “Was it that bad?”

  “Am I the only one?” His forehead furrows, and I see how important this is to him.

  “Yes, fine, you know all my secrets. Kissed you freshman year and that was it.”

  “Practically a kissing virgin.” His gaze dips to my li
ps. “And who was Sport Coat Guy last night?” His voice is softer now, his hand sliding around the nape of my neck.

  “Who was she?” I ask.

  “Not the person I want. But you already know that, don’t you?”

  I nod. I do know that. He barely looked at her. And he sang my song.

  “Who was he?” he asks again.

  I lick my lips. “My advisor’s been trying to find me a nice Italian guy—”

  “Did he find the right one?” His hand clenches in my hair, not hard, but enough for me to know that my answer matters.

  “No. I can’t…” My voice breaks. “Blaze, you know it’s you.”

  He’s turned toward me, our faces close.

  My hand touches his shoulder tentatively then slides down to rest on his chest, over his heart.

  “Your heart is beating fast.” My hand draws circles on the center of him, that vital part keeping his blood pumping. “What is this thing between us?”

  Moving his arm, he presses his hand against mine. He leans down closer, our foreheads together. “This is me. This is my heart flying every time I see you. This is why I tried to let you go last fall…” He stops, his eyes closing for a moment then opening. “This is why I want your kisses all the time.”

  He moves away, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a bag, opening it slowly and pulling out the small piece of paper inside.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your note. I keep it in my pocket sometimes. Had it with me that night at Cadillac’s. Had it with me at the library and the masquerade party. Had it last night.”

  I inhale. “Blaze…”

  “Let me finish.” He unwraps it slowly, and tears prick my eyes when I see how careful he is. “I love you, you wrote.” There’s awe in his voice.

  I look at the hastily scrawled handwriting. I can’t breathe. I recall getting in my car when I clearly shouldn’t have been driving, parking at his dorm, trying to figure out what to do. I’d already cried my eyes out at the party. I was done with anger. I just wanted him to know what he’d fucking given up when he ended us, so I opened myself up on a gum wrapper.

  He glances at me, searching my face. “I found it on my door after we broke up. Didn’t believe it, of course. Nobody’s ever said that to me. Not one person. Not even my aunt and uncle.”

  My heart clutches at the thought of that. I touch his face. “Blaze—”

  “Let me finish.” He takes a breath. “I just figured you were trashed and saying things you didn’t mean. I mean, we were just having sex—even though it felt like more, you know? Couldn’t throw it away, never in a million years. You wrote it. You said it…and I wanted to believe it.”

  There’s a long pause.

  “Did you mean it?” He’s staring at me, his breath seeming to halt.

  I close my eyes as the word falls from my lips. “Yes.”

  He doesn’t speak for a long time, and I open my lids to see him still looking at me, his expression full of wonder.

  “I do,” I whisper.

  He swallows. “I’m sorry I said those shitty words to you at your party, and I’m sorry everyone knew. It wasn’t what I really meant. I screwed it up, but we’re here. We can do this thing again. I don’t know how good relationships work, and I’m not good at talking except when it’s to run my mouth. I never know what to say…” He touches my chest, tracing the lines of my heart. “Everyone in my life ends up leaving me at some point. You won’t, will you?”

  Never let him go. “I won’t.”

  His lips land on mine, soft, and I sigh and curl my hands around his neck.

  I’m taking this chance. I knew it the moment I walked out of that bathroom at The Purple Iris. I also know I’m flying close to the sun, brushing at the flame he is, but is life worth living if I give up on the most precious thing I’ve ever held in my hands?

  26

  I blink in the darkness, checking the time on the clock on my nightstand: five in the morning. Charisma is lying next to me. The last time she was here in the fall, we had sex and she left.

  Not this time.

  We fell asleep after talking and catching up. She told me about going to Nashville and more about her family. Will she let me meet them? Will they like me? Will her mom? Shit. Am I ready to commit to whatever this is?

  She turns over to face me, still asleep, her face relaxed, lips parted. I brush a knuckle over them. She’s never kissed another guy here, and I know what that means to her.

  She meant it when she wrote I love you. I let those words reverberate in my chest.

  She snuggles in closer to me, a sigh coming from her. Last night already feels far away, a fleeting moment, tenuous and fragile, so I kiss her, savoring the feel of her lips against mine.

  “Morning,” I say with a smile when her eyes blink open.

  “It’s the ass crack of dawn. Why are you awake?” she murmurs.

  “My brain is up. I can’t sleep once it’s running.” I push hair out of her face. “It might help if you took your clothes off.”

  “Me taking my clothes off will help you sleep?”

  “It might. Wanna find out?”

  “Well, I must do my part to ensure that Blaze Townsend gets his beauty rest.”

  “Smart girl.” I reach for the hem of her shirt, tugging it up, and she moves around with me, sliding her arms through. I toss it on the floor. She’s wearing a purple bra, lacy and low, accentuating her creamy pale skin.

  “Charm,” I groan, my fingers teasing the outline of her cleavage. “You wreck me.”

  “I know.” She has this bemused expression as she pulls my shirt off and throws it over her shoulder.

  I wrap my arms around her and hold her against me, her skin on mine. “This…this…your skin against mine…”

  She kisses her way up to my neck until she’s finally on my cheek, my chin. My body tightens, anxious for her lips on my mouth, and I let out a growl when her tongue touches mine then plays, dipping in and then coming back out. I lie back and let her make love to my mouth, kissing the corners, tilting her head and exploring, flicking her tongue against mine.

  I take control of us, my mouth straining up and opening, taking her in deep, sucking on her tongue and swirling. I can’t get deep enough. I can’t crawl inside her like I want to, but I think my kiss tells her how long I’ve waited.

  “Fire in my hands,” I whisper, breathing out.

  “The things you say…”

  I reach down and slide my fingers inside her shorts, my fingers grazing over her tiny, lacy underwear. “How many of these kinds of panties do you have?”

  “So many. All colors. A few thongs.”

  “I want to see them all. Fashion show later at your place?”

  She’s laughing as she pushes my jeans to my feet and throws them to the floor. My cock juts up, pointing straight at her, and I laugh. “He knows what he wants.”

  “So do I.” She runs her hands from the tops of my bare shoulders to my thighs, where she tangles her hands in the leg hair there. Those big brown eyes lift to mine as she strokes my cock, rubbing her fingers over the head.

  Lust licks at me, but I tamp it down. I want to savor her, enjoy her.

  “No need to rush,” I say, and I lean up and pull her back to where I want her, flush against me.

  I suck her nipple through the lace while my hands unhook the back clasp. Her nipples are rosy and erect, her breasts straining as I massage them, licking and blowing on her skin.

  My fingers dip into her panties. “You slay me, hot and wet…” I rub circles on her clit. I slowly slide her underwear down until they’re gone.

  I just stare down at her, taking all of her perfection in.

  She watches me. “I like how you look at me.”

  “Get used to it. You aren’t getting away from me this time. You aren’t walking out that door unless I’m with you.”

  She laughs and says, “Okay.”

  I move down her body, my hands clenching around her inner
thighs, kneading the soft skin there, my nose drifting up her knee. I lick at a freckle and she gasps. My thumbs spread her apart, and when she tries to close her legs, I tsk. “Let me see you. We never did this, Charm, and I can’t stop thinking about you on your bed that day. I wanted to put my mouth on you and taste you. I wanted to play with this…” I run my tongue over her folds, delving inside her softness. My tongue rotates on her, and her body arches up off the bed. “You’re beautiful.”

  She spreads her legs and clutches the sheets as I own her with my tongue, taking and lapping, her little gasps making me hotter. Her body is wet, dripping down her leg, her nub hard as I take it in my mouth and flick it. “Do you like this?”

  “Is it not obvious?” She exhales heavily.

  “This?” My thumb presses against the star opening below her opening, that forbidden part.

  “Yes, damn you.” She huffs out a laugh. “Though if you pull out a butt plug, I’m out of here.”

  I laugh against her skin and kiss her inner leg. “No plugs. No one’s done this with you?”

  “No.”

  Satisfaction runs through me and I smile.

  She raises her head and glares at me. “Don’t stop now.”

  “Never.” I laugh and write my name on her with my tongue. Blaze.

  She writhes under me. Her legs move restlessly on the bed and her skin turns a rosy color.

  “Blaze…”

  “Promise you won’t get tired of me, Charm. Promise me you’ll stay.” I say the words against her skin, not able to look at her, terrified of my own vulnerability. My tongue flicks at her as I slide my fingers inside. “Say it, baby.”

  Her hands clutch my head as she bows up closer to me. “I promise, I promise…”

  She stiffens and arches up, spasming under my mouth.

  I crawl back up to her and stare down. My eyes hold hers. “You’re mine. Right?”

  I hate that anxiousness in my voice, the need to hear her say it, and she seems to know, her eyes soft as she returns my look. “I’m yours.”

  Emotion swells inside me. My hands shake as I move over to the side of the bed and grab a condom from the nightstand. I tear it open with my teeth, my body wiggling to get back to her.