Page 36 of Hate It with You

The mask he wears is one of arrogance, one I can’t ever see myself trusting. But in those moments when the mask is pulled away, he’s something else entirely. Something that threatens to lure me in and contradict everything I know to be true about men.

He didn’t budge when he had his arm wrapped around my neck the other day. It only proves how capable he is of hurting me.

And the mask he wears makes it impossible to read his intentions.

Though that hasn’t stopped me from lying in bed each night, typing out various responses to his messages only to delete instead of hit Send.

I tuck my phone and keys into my jacket pocket, unable to look at his texts any longer, his delicate tone of voice playing on repeat in my ears.

There’s no reason he should be so concerned about me. No reason for me to tell him what’s going on. Especially considering I wouldn’t even call us friends at this point.

With my stalker guaranteed to leave me another note at some point, it’s best if I keep my distance anyway. Especially considering what he did the last time I tried to be happy with a significant other.

When exiting my car, I don’t care to use an umbrella or put my hood up and decide to embrace the weather that so perfectly matches my current mood. My eye catches on Alex’s red Mustang parked a few spots away from mine before turning toward my bookstore, only to find him standing by the front door.

The awning above the door doesn’t come out more than two feet, so he’s leaning against the side of the building, painted in shadows as he avoids the rain.

I, on the other hand, stop just short of him, letting the rain fall onto me, washing away the events of the day.

Crossing my arms, I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. He only continues to stare at me, waiting for me to meet him where he is, beneath the awning.

A chill runs down my spine as the rain picks up, thoroughly wetting my hair. The outfit I’ve chosen to wear today didn’t exactly account for the current forecast. My cropped band T-shirt hugs my breasts tightly, leaving a sliver of skin exposed above the waistline of my miniskirt. The black skirt is tight against my hips, leaving my thighs exposed to the rain as droplets slide down my legs into my knee-high black boots. The only warmth I have comes from my jacket.

The rain is cold with each new droplet that hits my skin, but a heat continues to pool low in my belly as I watch Alex’s eyes roam my body.

Lit partially by the soft light hanging just above his head, his features pop against the black jacket and dark denim pants he’s chosen to wear. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s clearly upset with me for not responding to his messages. When I adjust my stance, his gaze dart to my thighs again, a hunger crossing his eyes before it’s replaced by concern.

Stop trying to care about me.

“What do you want?” I ask loudly over the sound of the rain. He doesn’t appear fazed by my harsh tone.

“You wouldn’t respond to my texts. I got tired of checking on you through the cameras.” He takes a step forward, joining me in the rain, the droplets instantly wetting his hair, as it frames his sharp facial features in a knee-buckling way. “Are you okay?”

“If I wasn’t, I’m not sure it’d be much of your problem anyway,” I snap.

He takes another step toward me, my words doing nothing to scare him off. “We’re friends, are we not?”

“No.” He’s close enough now that I can smell him, his scent perfectly intertwined with that of the rain.

His mouth forms a thin line as he gently grabs my chin between his forefinger and thumb, lifting it so I’m forced to make eye contact with him. The deep, saturated blues of his irises send another rush of heat through my core, my stomach flipping when he brushes his thumb along my chin ever so gently.

“I can tell you’re not okay. Talk to me.” His tone is more firm now, only egging me on further.

For a moment, I consider dumping everything on him. All the text messages I’ve typed out over the last week flood my brain. I should’ve just texted him that I was fine, but that’d be a lie. I thought about sending a snarky or flirty message, but I’ve been trying to distance myself from Alex, not bring him closer. I was too afraid to send him a message explaining why I froze during training the other day, and I’m not sure he’d care anyway. Even if he did, it’s best if we keep our distance, for both of our sakes.

“It’s not your problem,” I say, unable to find any of the words I’ve repeatedly typed over the last few days. I want nothing more than to go inside, yet I can’t pull my attention from Alex’s piercing blue eyes as I watch rain droplets splash along his cheeks.

He drops his hand from my chin, another chill running through me at the loss of our connection. “What are we doing, Beth? What is this?”

“What is what?” My eyebrows scrunch together at his question.

“This, us.” He motions a finger back and forth between the two of us. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel there’s something here.”

I scoff. “Oh please, there’s nothing.” I wave him off, wanting to step around him, but every cell in my body protests my brain as I stay put.

His breath becomes more ragged, a noticeable shiver overtaking his body as the rain continues to fall. “So that’s it, then? You hate me?” he asks.

“Absolutely,” I bite out, against my better judgment.