I Love You, I Hate You Part 2 A second Chance Romance (Broken Love Book 3)

by Bailey B

  “I'm not above dragging you into the bathroom, but I don’t want to do that. I just need you to go in there with me, Piper.” Tad rests his forehead against the wall. His breath was loud and shaky beside my ear. “A thousand dollars,” he says suddenly, turning his head, begging me with his eyes to concede. “Walk in there with me. Please. You have to… ”

  If my heart wasn’t already racing, it would be. That’s a lot of money, enough for a ticket out of town and a few nights at a cheap motel. It’s not nearly enough to pay my bio-mom’s debts, but it would put a dent in it and maybe keep everyone off my back a little longer.

  I don’t know though. Whatever rumor is bound to start about me would be gone in eight short weeks, but this situation doesn’t feel right. Something’s off. “I need that money. More than you can imagine, but no.”

  Tad beats his fist on the wall beside me. I flinch, but he’s so lost in himself he doesn’t seem to notice. “What the fuck, Piper? I’ve offered you ten times more than your worth. If you don’t go in there, I’m gonna be...” He shakes his head.

  “I don’t want—”

  Tad turns to me again, this time crashing his lips onto mine. He tastes like cigarettes and tuna fish, two things I hate. His hands push into my hair, tangling and pulling my roots. Bile creeps up my throat.

  I don’t want this.

  I don’t want him.

  No! I bite down on the tongue that’s invaded my mouth and press my palms to Tad’s chest, pushing as hard as I can. He stumbles back a step and stares at me, wide eyed, apparently shocked that I rejected him.

  “You bitch!” He grunts, raising his hand and slapping me across the face. “You don’t want to do this the easy way, fine. We can do it—!”

  “Hey!” A deep voice booms from my right. A wide, tall body comes out of nowhere, physically shielding me with its massive frame while a hand shoves Tad’s shoulder.

  Tad loses his balance and stumbles a step to the right. “The fuck you want, Montgomery?”

  Rex Montgomery—owner of said voice—reaches behind him and puts a protective hand on my hip. With everything that’s happening, my brain doesn’t seem to register the touch. It can’t, it’s too stunned that he of all people came to my rescue.

  I mean, the man is a living work of art. At six-foot-four, Rex towers over damn near everyone at St. A’s. Teachers included. It’s a known fact that he played ice hockey at his last school, and rumor has it he’s already been drafted to go semi-pro next season. Needless to say, every inch of him is carved from gold. Not really, but I hear his muscles are drool worthy. Add to that near perfect body a strong jawline and an angled nose. Yeah, girls swoon just from hearing his name. I’ll admit, I might be one of them, sometimes, but never in public.

  “Leave her alone,” he growls.

  Tad snorts. “That’s cute. You are sticking up for the trash. This bitch doesn’t belong here, Rex. All girls like her are good for is a quick lay.”

  “Fuck you,” I yell. Rex squeezes my hip, probably trying to be reassuring. Oddly enough, it works. A calm settles over me, releasing an unexpected smile.

  What the heck is happening right now?

  “Tell you what, you can take her into the boys bathroom first. When you’re done I’ll do my thing with her in the girl’s. My treat, Man.”

  Without warning Rex swings, catching Tad off guard with a right hook to the eye. Rex moves like a shark. Agile. Quick. And with precision. He swings again, hitting with enough force to knock Tad back a step.

  I stand there like an idiot. Mouth open. Eyes gaping as if this is the first time I’ve witnessed two boys throw down. I’ve seen fights before. Hell, my tattoo artist runs a backyard fight club once a month that once upon a time I used to go to.

  But this is different.

  The rage in Rex’s eyes is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s terrifying and unbelievably hot at the same time. I couldn’t tear my gaze away even if I tried.

  Tad grunts and lunges forward, hitting Rex in the stomach with his shoulder, but he barely moves. Rex punches him in the side, once, twice, then slams his face onto his knee.

  Tad falls to the ground, panting, blood seeping from his nose and a cut on his brow. He took a hell of a beating, and I have no clue how he’s still conscious. Must be all that practice getting his ass handed to him on the field. Defeated, he holds a hand up in surrender.

  All of this is going on and I’m over here, less than three feet from the action, fighting the urge to jump up and down like a freaking cheerleader. Something has to be wrong with me today. I’ve never been the preppy ra-ra type. I’m more of a glare at you from a distance kind of girl. But watching Rex kick Tad’s ass has me feeling some kind of way.

  “Since you were too stupid to listen the first time, I’ll tell you again. Piper’s closed for business,” Rex growls. “You will not stop her in the hallway or corner her when she’s alone. Your days of talking to or thinking about Piper are done. If I find you in the same room as her outside of class, I’ll kick your ass three ways from Sunday. Got it?”

  All the bubbly feelings I had watching Rex kick Tad’s ass disappear. Reality smacks me in the face with a horde of questions.

  What does Rex mean by the first time?

  Is he the reason everyone has left me alone the last few weeks?

  What the hell is going on!?

  Tad spits blood onto the ground and nods. “Got it.”

  “Good,” Rex says rising to his feet. “Now get the hell out of here before I beat the living shit out of you again.”

  I watch Rex while he watches Tad walk away, guarding me until that low-life is out of sight.

  Rex turns. His dark brown hair, short on the sides but long enough to run your fingers through on top, blows in the rare Florida breeze like a damn shampoo commercial. Under normal circumstances I’d make fun of him for it but I’m too stunned to speak. My mind’s still tripping over the fact that he saved me. That he touched me and that my pulse is racing faster than a greyhound from the way he is still looking at me.

  “Are you okay?” Rex takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger to examine my face. My breath catches. Not because I’m anxious, but because the feeling of impending doom isn’t there. There’s no tightness in my chest or nervous shakes. No needles shooting down my spine or fuzziness in my head. Instead, there’s an electric current pulsating between us that I’ve never felt before, similar to my anxiety needles yet different.

  “I’m fine.” I’m not fine. My skin’s on fire, the space between my legs aches, and I’m a confused mess. Rex is the first person to touch me this year who doesn’t send my body into shock. His skin on mine should ignite a catalyst of crippling reactions. Instead, heat spreads from my cheeks down to my core. Awakening parts of me I thought died long ago.

  Rex drops his hand. Deep blue’s study me, combing over every feature, making my insecurities bubble up. The bags under my eyes. The scars on my arms, some hidden beneath a colorful tattoo, others still visible to all who look beneath a dozen rubber bracelets.

  “Wanna get out of here?” He asks with zero traces of hidden innuendo.

  Another first. The only time guys—who aren’t the Harris twins—talk to me is to ask for a favor. An unfortunate hazard of my reputation.

  Please don’t let Rex ask a favor.

  “Piper?”

  Shit. I must have zoned out. No, I don’t want to leave with you because I don’t know what’s going on with me! I shake my head, hoping I didn’t actually say those words aloud.

  Rex smiles revealing two deep, beautiful dimples.

  The overwhelming need to have his hands on my body consumes me. Tears prick the back of my eyes again because for the first time in a year I want to be held. What’s worse, I want to be comforted by him— the hot almost stranger who saved me.

  I hate it.

  I like it.

  I don’t know how to take it. I’ve gone so long learning how to cope with the anxiety of unwanted touches
that I forgot how to react when it’s desired. I look up at Rex, feeling like a complete idiot, unsure of what to do next. Should I say thank you? Is that enough? I mean, what he just did, saving me, is huge!

  “Can I walk you inside? I’m sure Cooper wouldn’t want you by yourself after that bullshit. And I…” he rubs at the back of his neck. “I don’t want to leave you alone. You know, in case Tad comes back.”

  “Okay.” My voice cracks, sounding nothing like its usual calm, collected self. Rex steps closer and tucks me under his arm. There’s a bubble in my chest but I can still breathe. Still function.

  I think I’m nervous.

  Go figure. The hottest guy in school that I’ll never have a chance with is ushering me inside and now my brain starts to act like a teenage girl. If I can’t get this under control, I’m screwed.

  Rex angles his body to shield me from eyes that might be watching as we cross the parking lot. The smell of musk and clean linen swirl in my head. It’s delicious. I sniff again, committing the scent to memory because the likelihood that I’ll be this close to him again is slim to none. Even if Rex can touch me without causing a debilitating panic attack. Handsome , popular guys don’t actually like girls like me. They just like the way we make them feel.

  Available on Amazon

  I Hate You, I Love You Part 1

  Chapter 1

  Logan

  I run a shaking hand through my hair, dark strands slithering like snakes against my palm. I thought my new neighbor looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why. At first I didn’t give the girl much thought and assumed the familiarity was because we had hooked up or something. But that round face and those long dark locks haunted me all night. And then, passing her on the way to first period this morning, the scent of rosewater shampoo set fire to my neurons.

  My middle school best friend, Danika Winters, has returned home after more than three years and instead of being thrilled, my skeletons are knocking.

  I swallow a lump in my throat the size of a cannon ball. My heart’s racing. Vision’s blurring. Suddenly, I’m a seven-year-old boy again, sitting in my therapist's office, his icy fingers curling over my shoulder. I shudder and blink back the first round of demons haunting me.

  Feelings I’ve fought for years bubble in my chest. I can’t risk Danika running her mouth and anyone finding out what happened. No one besides me, her dad, and the two other men in that room know the truth.

  I intend to keep it that way.

  Twisting an unlit cigarette between my fingers, my gaze drifts to Danika as she enters the cafeteria. Watching her amble to the food station with Sarah Archer, I don’t know how I missed it. She looks exactly the same as she did in middle school, only older. Same olive skin. Same hazel eyes. Even the singular dimple on her left cheek when she laughs is still there.

  I watch, with a sick sense of deja vu, as Danika bypasses lunch entirely, instead opting for just a Coke. Lunch was our thing back in middle school: sitting on the stage, sharing a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and a soda. I still remember the day she told me her mom was sick. She cried the whole lunch period, never once touching her half.

  Being the nosy fuck that I am, I’ve noticed there’s only one car in the driveway next door. Now knowing that Danika is my neighbor, I’m guessing her mom died. Whatever they were doing in California that kept them gone for so long apparently didn’t work, and I doubt it was cheap.

  Tad Parker sits on the tabletop beside me. “You look like you’re out for blood. Who was stupid enough to piss you off this early in the year?”

  I don’t particularly like Tad but being on the same football team all throughout high school has forced us into a strange sort of friendship. He thinks we’re friends, and I don’t. I slip the cigarette I’ve been playing with between my lips and light it up. “No one.”

  Trays settle on the table behind me. I don’t need to look to see who’s sat down. Tad only hangs out with a specific group of entitled pricks and no one would dare to enter his circle without being invited.

  I scan the cafeteria again, searching for Danika’s unique hue of brown. It’s a rich shade, filled with natural highlights. She’s always had a color too pure to be from a bottle, something I didn’t appreciate when I was thirteen.

  I take a drag of my cigarette and exhale a cloud of smoke above me. I’ve got to stop thinking about Danika like this. Like she’s still the girl I ate lunch with every day for three years. The one I told all of my secrets to. The girl who used to be my best friend.

  Danika is my enemy because she may know what happened that night, and I have to remember as much. I take another drag and hold my breath, letting the smoke singe my lungs. Focusing on the burn in my chest makes tuning out the cafeteria chatter easier.

  Until I hear her name.

  “You guys remember Danika.” Sarah sets her tray beside Tad and looks at my tablemates. “Right?”

  There's a collective murmur of uninterested hellos, meaning no one remembers who Danika is. Good. She’ll have to prove she belongs and judging by the fact she still wears Converse sneakers; Melody is going to eat her alive.

  Melody Fox, self-crowned queen of St. Anastasia's High School has earned every bit of her title: bitch. I can’t stand the bitch, but for some reason she seems to think we are a thing. Exclusivity isn’t in her vocabulary, so I gave up fighting her on it last year. I still get to fuck who ever I please and she…I don’t know what she gets out of the arrangement. I don’t care either.

  “You’re like, really pretty,” Melody taunts, setting a trap Danika is sure to fall into.

  I almost feel bad, but Melody is making my job easier. Danika was always a quiet girl and cowered when met with confrontation. I highly doubt that’s changed. I give it a day, two tops, of being on Melody’s radar and then she’ll find another lunch table to sit at. Hell, maybe she’ll find a new school while she’s at it.

  “Who does your hair?”

  “Um.” Danika runs unmanicured fingers through her long strands. “I don’t dye it.”

  “So that’s natural?” Melody snickers.

  Her best friend Rachel Moore cackles beside her. They glance at each other, a silent conversation in the works. I’ve never understood how girls do that, communicate with each other with nothing more than a look. Guys don’t put in that much effort. If we have something to say, we say it.

  “She’s probably too fucking poor to dye it,” I add on an exhale. The words feel heavy on my lips, but I can’t stop thinking about what Danika might remember. I need her on edge, and possibly even a little afraid of me. Maybe then I can intimidate her into staying quiet. “Have you seen where she lives?”

  “No! Where?” Melody gasps.

  Another drag. Another exhale to numb my mind and the shiver of guilt rippling through me. “The fucking shack next to me.”

  “You mean Mr. Andrew’s old guest house?” Melody titters.

  The weight of Danika’s stare burns my skin. I turn my head and glare at her because she needs to realize that I’m not the same timid kid she left behind.

  Sorry Dani.

  “Whatever. Poor or not.” Gunner Wells cuts off Melody’s infectious hyena laugh. He looks at Danika, gaze settling on her massive rack then finding her face again. “You’re fucking hot.”

  Danika isn’t hot, she’s beautiful. Always has been. Only now, she’s grown into her body. She developed early. I know that’s strange to say but come on. I’m a guy. I notice these things. Especially on a pretty girl who leaves her table to sit with the weird friendless kid who had a stutter in the sixth grade.

  That kid was me.

  Awkward as fuck, thick rimmed glasses, and quieter than a church mouse because damn near everyone picked on me when I talked.

  I was in therapy for years to correct my speech. Although, looking back, I’m not sure if those sessions helped my situation or made it worse.

  Tad crushes his soda and tosses it at the trash can. It circles the rim then falls onto
the cafeteria floor. He grunts, probably remembering how shitty he was on the basketball team as a freshman. “Yeah, at least she’s not like Piper.”

  “Don’t fucking talk about Piper,” I quip. Tad smirks, realizing he’s gotten under my skin and I’m reminded once again why I can’t stand him.

  Piper Lovelace, my on-again-off-again foster sister, doesn’t deserve to be treated the way she is. Part of her reputation is my fault, I started the rumor that she was a slut as a joke last year, when I considered her to be nothing more than a nuisance. Before I knew what she was going through. Not that that’s any excuse.

  I never expected the rumor to stick because most of the things people say about Piper are forgotten in a day or two. It didn’t help that soon after she started hanging around with a bunch of different guys adding fuel to the rumor fire. Even so, everything they say about her is wrong. Piper is a good person, she’s just been dealt a shitty hand in life.

  “Let me guess, Piper’s fucking both you and Cooper now that she’s moved back home again?” Tad digs a joint out of his cigarette pack and lights it, not giving two fucks about the cafeteria monitors. They won’t do shit anyway, a perk of going to the most expensive school in the county. Certain kids could probably murder someone in cold blood on campus and damn near get away with it.

  Tad sucks in a breath, holding the smoke in his lungs then passes the rolled paper to Gunner and says, “Tell me, is that bitch as good in bed as the rumors say she is?”

  I toss what’s left of my cigarette to the floor and jump off the table, ready to kick Tad’s ass, but Cooper—my twin brother— beats me to it. He comes up from the left, catching Tad in his blindside and throws a jab at his face. Tad falls off the table and clutches his cheek like the little bitch that he is. Serves him right. Piper is family and you don’t fuck with family.

  I sit on top of the table again and light another cigarette to calm my nerves. I’m anxious, full of unused adrenaline and need something to take my mind off stomping Tad’s face into the pavement.