Page 16 of He Hate Me

Maybe that’s not quite accurate, though, because I’ve started texting Carmello, initially to spite Brandon, but I’m finding that I really like him. He’s so damn cute and he sends me pics of him with no shirt on that would have any girl drooling. He’s really cut, kinda like Brandon, but unlike Brandon he’s not a complete asshole. He’s got that kinda thick muscle, where Brandon is a little leaner. He’s funny, too. He’s already tried to edge things towards sexting, but I’ve been holding off. I’m feeling a little guilty, because I don’t know what I want from Mello, and he’s being really sweet. I started talking to him because of Brandon. Now it feels like I’m lying to someone who actually deserves better.

I get a text from Carmello on Thursday.

Mello: Wanna hang out this weekend?

I’m about to text him back that I’m busy, when I hear Mackenzie’s fake laugh. I know that laugh. It’s the one she uses to make boys think she thinks they’re hilarious. Why shouldn’t I hang out with Mello? I don’t have to make him my boyfriend, but wouldn’t it be nice to see the look on Brandon’s face when he sees Mello and me together?

Me: I’m going to a party at Brayden J’s house on Saturday. Wanna come?

Mello: Sure. Where’s he live.

I text him the details and smile smugly. See how Brandon likes the shoe on the other foot.

The game on Friday night is a disappointment as usual. We did well last year mostly due to Jayden, who was a pretty good quarterback. With him gone, the team is back to their usual mess. We lose 19-0. The guest team is exuberant and obnoxious as they steam out of the game. Briarwood fans gather their blankets and empty soda cups and leave more slowly, the mood subdued. I don’t make it out to the parking lot until about twenty minutes after the game.

I’m tired and lugging my gym bag. I tell the girls I can’t join them for burgers after the game like I usually do. Lorelei gives me a weird look. It’s the second time in a week I’m bowing out of activities I usually take the lead in, and I wonder what she’s thinking. I don’t really have much time to ponder it before I get to my car to find Brandon waiting for me. He’s bent over his phone, his backpack over one shoulder and his hip propped against the side of my car. He looks around when the car beeps before he spots me and smiles in a way that heats my skin.

I say nothing to him as I stash my bag in the trunk and walk around to the driver’s side door. Lorelei’s Jeep pulls up with Mackenzie hanging out the passenger window.

“Hey guys,” she yells, “Brandon, you wanna come get burgers with us?”

Did she just invite him alone? I mean I know I just told them I can’t make it, but I’m kind of annoyed that they just went, okay, fine, but let’s ask Brandon to come without her. Before I can say anything, though, Brandon responds.

“We can’t,” he says. “Her parents are making us come home.”

I don’t know why, but I like that he said “we.”

“Why?” Mackenzie asks.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. His facial expression is kind of cold, and I can see it bothers Mackenzie. She shrugs, too, pursing her lips, then says something to Lorelei I can’t hear. She tells us bye and they leave. We get in the car, still having said nothing to each other.

Brandon rests his hand on my bare leg, just below the hem of my tech skirt.

“Relax,” he says, giving it a light squeeze. “Nothing bad is happening tonight, okay.”

Before I can tell him to take his hands off me, he’s already putting on his seatbelt and adjusting the seat for his overly long legs. I guess he thought touching me on the leg would be calming, but it’s the opposite. The low-grade anxiety I’ve been carrying around all day just ramped up higher.

“If you want me to not worry,” I tell him, reversing out of the space, “touching me on the thigh without asking is probably not the right way to go about it.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding amused. “Should I add that to the list of things not to do until you beg me?”

“Yes.” My voice is firm, but now he’s grinning as he reaches for the radio. He laughs, turning up the volume. It’s a hip hop station and I try to ignore him, letting the beat and flow relax me.

“I’m hungry,” I say as we approach a strip with a bunch of fast-food restaurants. The light from the street lamps flickers through the windows—light, dark, light, dark. “Can we hit the drive through?”

“Fast food’s nasty,” he says. “I can make something better in ten minutes.”

“You cook?”

“Of course. You don’t?”

“I do, a little, but I’m a girl.”

“I don’t think it’s a boy-girl thing,” he says. “At some point we’re all going to be living on our own and we should know how to take care of ourselves.”

“Did your Mommy teach you that?”

“She did. Taught me how to cook, clean, the works. I do most of the cooking at home, actually. She…ah… Anyway, I don’t mind making you something. What are you in the mood for?”