Page 45 of Hate It with You

“Is this okay? We can get something else if⁠—”

“No, it’s fine,” she says. “It’s nice to have a homemade meal for once. I’ve been having to live off ramen for the last few months.”

Opening the containers, I begin pouring dressing over my salad and ask, “Speaking of, how is business?” I’m cautious when I ask the question, but I can’t help myself, given the fact that she questioned my business’s popularity the other day.

“Just about as good as yours.” She shrugs, her laughter following mine at her jab.

I take a bite of my salad, the rumbling in my stomach finally coming to an ease. A faint breeze wafts by, picking up strands of my hair as we both dive into our lunches, listening to the song of a few birds perched high on one of the nearby evergreen trees.

After we’ve both satiated ourselves with the food before us, Beth sets down her bowl as she poses the question, “Will you be going to the lake house this summer? I was talking with Sienna the other day. She’s excited to go this year. Said she’s going to give you a run for your money in the competition.”

I laugh at the thought. “No, not this year. I think I’ll stay here this summer.” I look out to the Mustang, trying to carry a nonchalant tone that doesn’t give away the true reason I’m staying in town.

Beth stammers over her words before finding the right ones. “But you go every year, don’t you?”

I shrug. “Yeah, but not this year. My brothers will understand.”

“Why?” The question is faint, like she didn’t want to ask but felt she had to.

My nonchalant tone is nonexistent when I look back toward Beth, answering her question simply, “There are more important things here that need my attention.”

My feelings for Beth aren’t something I’ve tried to hide from. I’ve been falling for her since last summer’s trip to the lake house. From the moment she told me my car sounded like shit, I knew she was someone special.

Not only does my business need me here, but I get the feeling Beth needs me to. Over the past few weeks, I’ve watched as she looks up to the cameras in her bookstore, never reaching to turn them off. Her shoulders always relax ever so slightly when her eyes land on the lens.

She won’t admit it, but she needs me here.

Her reinstated interest in learning self-defense after not speaking to me for a week must mean she received another note. I’m not sure what it said, but after she texted me that night, I combed through all the camera footage looking for anything out of the ordinary.

I haven’t found anything yet, but I will. When I do, I’d rather not be two hours away from Beth.

“Do your tattoos have any meaning? Or do you just really love flowers?” Beth is full of questions today. She points at the sleeve of tattoos covering my left arm.

Looking down, I smile, happy to explain the reasoning for them. “My parents.” She leans in closer. “The two doves representing them, the two people I’ve lost.” I motion to the lilies etched into my arm. “They were my mom’s favorite flower.”

Beth’s lips part. “White lilies with a pink center?” I nod at her question.

“She had a good eye for flowers. They’re my favorite too.” Beth smiles, her happiness brightening the mood.

My hand lands on her exposed thigh, lightly tracing the tattoo placed there. Her breath hitches at our connection. “And you? Any meaning behind these?”

She lets out a singular laugh. “No. Not the designs themselves at least. It has more to do with the pain than anything else.”

My eyebrows come together, curious about her answer. “You like the pain?”

She’s looking down, watching my hand trail her thigh as she speaks softly, “I’m not so sure ‘like’ is the word I’d use.”

Understanding hits me like a freight train. Her eyes stay glued to our connection, almost as if she’s afraid to look at me.

Lifting her chin with my knuckle, I say, “I get it. Sometimes when you’ve been hurt, the only way to get through that trauma is to regain control of that pain.”

Her eyes glisten as she shakes her chin from my hold. Looking toward the Mustang, she asks, “Why racing?”

“I just showed you why. It’s fun to go fast.” I lean into her, nudging her shoulder.

She rolls her eyes, pushing me away playfully. “No, I mean it. Why? There has to be something more to it than just that.” She stares up at me, those siren blue eyes silently begging for me to be honest with her.

It’s the one thing I’ve wanted from her from the start. To open up to me and share parts of herself with me. Though I’m not sure I can say I’ve done the same with her.