I Hate You

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  “Face me, baby.”

  She does, her body pliant and loose.

  “Put your leg on my hip, Charm,” I say. “Side by side. I want that. Soft and slow.”

  She hitches her leg over me until we line up, her brown eyes on mine, and I groan at the feel of her tits against my chest.

  And then we’re kissing again, and a sense of completeness fills me.

  She feels so right. This feels right.

  Is this what love is?

  Is that what’s driven me to near madness every time she’s gotten close to me?

  I want her.

  I want her.

  I want her.

  For as long as I can hang on to her.

  My hand palms the back of her head, and I kiss her mouth with a ferocity I didn’t realize I was holding back, a banked feeling I’ve let build up for months, a reaction to her finally being in my arms.

  I rise up and stare down at her. Words, heavy fucking words, teeter on the tip of my tongue…but I can’t say them. So, I kiss her again, loving her with my mouth, showing her who I am, how deep inside her I want to be.

  Later, after we’re both exhausted from doing everything I’ve had in my head for months, we find ourselves on the floor and staring up at my ceiling fan.

  We’re holding hands, and I turn to look at her. “Wanna sandwich?”

  She rolls on top of me, hair in her eyes. She pretends to think. “It’s breakfast, but I’m starving. Whatcha got?”

  “Turkey and Swiss in the fridge. There’s some bread in the cupboard.”

  “Got mayo?”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, Dillon has mayo. Bastard.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  “I’ll even make it and bring it to you—even though it’s going to really gross me out.”

  She laughs and I kiss her.

  Nothing is going to ruin this with her. Nothing.

  27

  “Joey P stopped by to see your brother and asked if you’d be home in March. You know, he never married that Protestant girl he was seeing. Knew it wouldn’t last. Maybe he can come for dinner when you get here. I’ll talk to his mom and work it out,” says Ma.

  My eyes widen as I clutch the phone to my ear. I’m on my way to class, thought I’d check in, and this is what I got—the Italian setup.

  I let out a sigh. “If you call his mom, I’m not coming home.”

  Her voice tsks. “But, Charm, you’re going to be a lonely old maid.”

  I choke back a laugh.

  She continues, “I know once you get here and Joey’s here, things will just happen—”

  I stop on the path to Dr. Cartwright’s class. Might as well tell her. Should have by now. She’s going to either love Blaze or hate him on sight. “I have a boyfriend, Ma. It’s kind of new, but it’s a real thing. We’ve been dating for a few weeks.”

  Perfect days of us together, me at his place, him at mine, barely a night apart. We can’t get enough of each other, both of us eager to make up for so much lost time. I’m falling deeper into his dark waters, drifting and wading, listening to him describe how he grew up—without real love. He’s opening up to me, moment by moment, and I hang on to the seconds, my heart hoping he will give me everything.

  Her voice rises. “Why haven’t you told me? What’s this boy’s name? Is he from Mississippi?”

  I chuckle. “His name is Blaze, and you never give me a chance to talk.”

  “That’s not a real name!”

  “Neither is Charisma.”

  “What’s his family name?”

  “Townsend. He’s one of the football players. Remember when we sat around and watched the Waylon game? He made some big plays.”

  I hear rustling and water running. She’s probably washing morning dishes. “You went down to that awful place, and now you’re going to be stuck down there. When will I see the grandkids?”

  I bend over and stifle my groan. I love her, but…

  “No grandkids anytime soon. Seriously, Ma, ease up.”

  There’s a long silence.

  “You’ve never had a boyfriend,” she says quietly.

  “I know.” I chew on my lip, debating telling her why I’ve kept my heart protected for so long, but I can’t. I never told her about Trevor because I knew my brothers would likely kill him, and I only broached the topic of Pop’s cheating once when I was seventeen. It killed me to hear her angry words, telling me to mind my own business, saying I didn’t get what real love is.

  She clears her throat. “You just come home and we’ll see if it lasts. No one gets you like people up here.”

  Blaze does get me. He looks at me as if he never wants to take his eyes off me. I move and he moves in turn, making me the center of his world.

  He hasn’t told you how he feels, a small voice reminds me.

  “Are you having sex? Please, Charm, just use protection. Don’t get the VD that goes around those colleges. Is he going to Nashville with you this summer?”

  OMG.

  I called her last week and told her they offered me an entry-level paid position with the option to hire me full-time in a year. It’s not Boston, but I can get behind a city like Nashville.

  I clench the phone. “I’m not talking to you about sex, and I don’t know where he’ll be this summer. Depends on the draft. How’s Pop and the boys?” I ask, changing the topic.

  She fills me in on the usual, and there’s more rustling and then whispering as she talks to Mattie. He must not have left yet for his law school classes at NYU.

  I hear him ask for the phone.

  “Hey, sis! Joey P is the man!”

  “Mattie. She told you,” I murmur.

  He chuckles. “Oh, yeah, she did. She’s fuming about some guy you’re seeing. What’s wrong with Joey? He got his teeth fixed and everything.”

  FML. I roll my eyes. My family is insane.

  “I mean, one tooth is still jacked, but he’s cool,” he adds. I hear the creak of the back door, and I imagine he’s going out to the screened-in porch to get some space from Ma.

  “This has nothing to do with Joey P or his teeth. She’s freaked out because I said boyfriend and she hasn’t met him.”

  He laughs again. “So who’s this guy banging my little sister?”

  “Shut up. You’re going to love him—wide receiver for the team, funny, nice, and just…” I pause, caught up in thoughts of him. I sigh.

  “You in love, sis?”

  “Not telling you shit. You’ll just repeat it.”

  He laughs. “You got that right. She knows how to beat it out of me. Don’t worry, I can’t wait to meet him. Great team. I’m going to look him up online, get some questions ready for when he gets his ass up here to meet us.”

  Yeah…

  I want to do that—I do—but I’m nervous. Blaze doesn’t talk about the future for us, plus the Combine is right before spring break and he’ll be out of town. We should discuss it soon, but not now.

  I get off the phone with Mattie and walk into class.

  Dr. Cartwright is already lecturing, and I hurry over.

  Blaze is grinning at me as I slide in next to him, and my heart skips a beat when he rests his hand on my desk. His pinkie brushes mine. “Bout time you got here. Was about to get worried.”

  DING!

  What are we doing tonight? I write and show it to Blaze.

  Your place? I can cook this time.

  You can cook? Nice.

  Lasagna?

  Really? That’s awesome. Is this because my last name is Rossi? What do you put in yours?

  I just take it out of the box and put it in the oven. Presto.

  I put my head down to hide my grin. Ma is going to die.

  He’s still writing.

  First you tie me to the bed and have your way with me. Haven’t checked that off the list yet. Then we eat. Then TV. Or do you want to go somewhere?

  My shoulders shake. I picture him in my room, tied to my bedpost with scarves, then
I’m picturing me in a black dominatrix suit with tall, black, high-heeled boots, and it kind of works. I’m about to write that down and tell him when—

  “Mr. Townsend, can you tell us your last entry please? There seems to be a lull today with the spring weather, and I always enjoy your comments.”

  I glance over at Blaze, my eyes wide.

  He throws me a look then gapes at Dr. Cartwright. “Uh, well, sir, it’s rather private, this one. I don’t mind if you read it for your study since that’s anonymous, but…”

  “I see.” The professor arches his eyebrow and looks from Blaze to me. The man has to know we’re writing notes to each other half the time. We’re on the front freaking row.

  Dillon glances at us, probably sees my wide eyes, and clears his throat. “Uh, I have a good one.”

  “Indeed, Mr. McQueen? Please do share.”

  “I wrote I’m hot.” He grins. “I don’t mean the temperature in the room,” he adds. “It’s just me. I’m sexy like that.” He raises his hands for support. “Am I right?”

  Whistles come from throughout the class.

  “How insightful,” Dr. Cartwright murmurs, a smile on his face. “Thank you.” He comes back to Blaze. “I’d still love to hear yours. You looked so…absorbed in thought when you wrote it.”

  The man is messing with us.

  Blaze taps his pen on his desk, gives me a look, and takes a breath.

  “I said, Tie me to the bed.”

  He kept as close to the truth as he could, and it feels like every single student turns to stare at him. I tuck my head in.

  Dr. Cartwright’s eyes gleam. “How surprising that a strapping football player might enjoy a little rope play and being a submissive. Fascinating. Good for you for admitting your proclivities, Mr. Townsend.”

  “Yes, sir. Proclivities are on my mind constantly.”

  Good Lord. He’s too much.

  Too far, rein it in, my gaze tells him.

  He gives me a grin.

  * * *

  Later that night, we’re lying on the couch at the house as we watch Downton Abbey, my pick. He’s lying behind me, one arm around me, a hand playing with my hair. Penelope and Ryker are at the library studying. The credits roll on the show and I turn to face him. There’s a little pucker on his forehead, and I smooth it with my hand.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.” I touch his cheek, reading him. “Those NFL scouts and agents will be pissing in their fancy suits when they see you run at the Combine.”

  “Yeah?” He gets a hesitant look on his face.

  “Of course.”

  He stares down at me, thinking. “No matter what happens, I want you to know that I’m in this thing we have.”

  In this thing.

  I ease away and clean up our dishes from dinner on the coffee table. We ended up ordering a pizza since his workout went long.

  He sits up, reaches out, and grabs my free hand, lacing our fingers together. “Hey, you okay?”

  “I’m good. Just want to clean this up before Penelope gets back.”

  I move to pull away, but he won’t let me go, standing and tugging me to him. His eyes are worried as he gives me a kiss, soft and slow. “Hey, I know we aren’t just about me and my stuff.” He pushes hair out of my face. “I’m happy about Nashville, happy for you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you excited about it?”

  I nod. “Of course. It’s a cool town.”

  I haven’t wanted to bring it up much. When I told him last week, he listened intently, his face unreadable. We even celebrated by going to Cadillac’s with Ryker, Penelope, Dillon, Margo, and Connor. It was a fun, laidback night, but I caught him staring at me when I was talking to the girls about driving up in a few weeks to find an apartment. His eyes were filled with disquiet, his expression drawn.

  Is he worried about a long-distance relationship? Maybe. I am.

  I keep picturing him in another town…away from me…with “fans”.

  He watches me now, his eyes bright. His chest rises. “Charm?”

  “Yeah.” My hand holding the paper plates shakes a little. The air feels charged, as if he…

  He sticks his hand in his pocket, and I wonder if he’s touching that note. “I know things are up in the air, but we’ll make a plan after I’m drafted. I don’t know where I’ll be, or if I’ll even get selected.”

  “You will.”

  He looks at the floor then back at me. “I’ve never had someone like you.” His throat bobs and his eyes search mine. “You know…you know how I feel about you, right? You’re the last thing I think about when I go to sleep, the first thing I want when I wake up.”

  I set down the plates, slide into his embrace, and put my arms around his neck. “It’s going to work out, all of it.”

  He kisses me, and it’s hard and sweeping, part need and part frustration, both of us anxious, wondering what the coming weeks will hold. I get lost there, in his mouth, like I always do. I don’t know how I ever waited so long to have this intimacy with him, to share it with the man I love. His tongue sucks on mine, making me moan, and he gives me more, his hands already in my hair and pulling out my ponytail and palming my scalp, getting me as close to him as he can.

  “Charm, baby…” he says, staring down at me, those blue eyes dark with heat. “I brought rope. You got any high-heeled boots?”

  I grin. “Already picked out and ready.”

  He laughs and leads me to my bedroom.

  28

  “We both know who’s gonna look good today for that scout,” Archer says, squaring his shoulders, nose to nose with me. “Me.”

  We’re standing in the middle of the field while Cedrick Clemmons, the New York Giants scout, watches from the sidelines. I feel the weight of his scrutiny, his assessing gaze on us. Gone is the affable fellow I met in the gym a few weeks ago, and in his place is a hard-nosed businessman looking for talent.

  It’s a fucking gift.

  An NFL scout has asked to see you and Archer run drills before the Combine.

  That’s what Coach Sanders told us yesterday—and here he is today, watching.

  Ryker gives me a thumbs-up from the sideline as he talks with the coaches and a few other players who are hoping they get the chance to hop in. He’s not going to throw to us—doesn’t want to risk an injury—so Coach Sanders is standing in.

  I reach out my hand to give Archer a quick fist bump before we start.

  He pounds down on my outstretched hand like a boxer before a fight.

  “Going to destroy you,” he says under his breath.

  I grin, but it’s tight, controlled. “Try. I’m faster.”

  “Hike!” yells Coach.

  I fire off the line, getting my arms under Archer’s ribs right away, and he stumbles back, giving me a crucial second to twist away and run. He recovers and sprints after me, but I stop on a dime and spin around right as Coach throws the ball. Archer flies past me, and I catch the pass twelve yards downfield.

  Blaze one, Archer zero.

  I flip the ball back to our coach as we both walk back to the line and set up for the next drill. As I pass Archer, I bump him with my shoulder. Beat you, my eyes say.

  He sends a grin to Cedrick but then looks back at me. “Pussy move.”

  “Ah, you want a pity play now?” I say. “I just saw a wannabe defensive back who doesn’t like contact. Cedrick saw that too. He just wrote down the word soft next to your name.”

  Archer rolls his shoulders. “If that’s the way you wanna play it, let’s dance.”

  “Hike!” Coach holds the ball and waits for us to run.

  My body darts forward, and I swing in Archer’s direction, acting like I’m going to jam him again, but I do a fake and fly past him at full speed.

  He runs to catch me, but I’m faster, my feet eating up the yards. Twenty yards down field, I look for the ball, which is already in the air. In a split se
cond, I realize I’ve beaten Archer on the route, but Coach has underthrown. I dash back, get behind Archer just in time, and leap. I snatch the ball down, and we both fall to the ground. Yes!

  Blaze two, Archer zero.

  I walk back toward the line and hear Archer breathing, snorting like a bull. “You trying to show off for your girl? What’s the deal with that one? She leading you around on a leash?”

  I glance up into the stadium. Charisma and Dillon sit low in the stands. I didn’t see her come in, although I knew she wanted to come. I agreed when she asked, though grudgingly. Part of me wants her here, but the other part is terrified I’ll fuck it up and disappoint her.

  “Hike!” yells Coach, yanking me back to the present.

  I’m one second late getting off the line, and as I get up to full speed, Archer is right on my hip. I stop and turn for the ball. Coach throws a shitty pass and I twist to grab it, but Archer shoves me in my back. The ball falls to the field.

  Blaze two, Archer one.

  My fists clench. Focus!

  Keep your eyes off her and on him. Right.

  “Bitch move, Archer,” I tell him as we line up.

  He stares at me, eyes hard. “Your girl reminds me of that stripper at the Furry Kitty Kat, you know the one, big tits and a juicy ass. When she’s done with you, I’m going to fuck that real good.” He leans in until I feel his breath through the cage of my helmet. “What’s her name? Charm? She remind you of the trash you come from?”

  I flick my eyes up. She’s got her hands clasped tight in front of her, eyes on me.

  “You ready, Blaze?” asks Coach, and I realize I’m distracted.

  “Yes, sir,” I bite out as Archer glares at me across the line.

  “Hike!”

  I blow past him as Coach overthrows the ball, and I put every ounce of effort into driving my body forward.

  I dive and reach out to get my fingertips on it just as Archer’s feet tangle with mine. His cleat jams on my ankle hard and the ball ends up just out of my grasp, hitting the ground.

  Archer stands first and towers above me, smiling. He reaches out his hand to help me up, but at the last second, he jerks it away. “I’m the superstar here, farm boy. Not you.”