Page 46 of Hate It with You

Given my past, being my true self has proven to get me into more trouble than it’s worth, but there’s something about the way Beth looks at me at this moment that’s screaming at me.

You can trust her.

“I was nine when my parents died.” I sigh, beginning the story I haven’t told anyone aside from my brothers. The emotional weight of it lay heavy on my chest. “The world was so… loud. I tried everything I could to escape. Every hobby I could find.”

“And you found racing?”

I smile. “Not at first. But once Roman taught me how to drive, I discovered a sense of calm behind the wheel that I rarely found in other activities. You’d think it’d be the opposite given my parents died in a car wreck, but it wasn’t. At least not for me.” I take a deep breath, worried she might laugh at my reasoning.

When she stares at me intently, hanging onto my every word, I look back to my car and continue, “When I’m behind the wheel, it’s just me and the road beneath my feet. Each time my foot hits the clutch, and the gears shift, the world falls silent, and I feel like I can finally breathe.”

Beth’s eyes glisten again when I glance back at her. She looks away from me the moment our eyes meet, the action throwing me back to when we first met.

“I can see why you love it.” The words come out quiet, but I don’t stop myself from grabbing her hand in mine when she says them.

“Is that why you fight too?” she asks, staring at our hands intertwined.

A chuckle escapes my throat at the thought. “No, that’s a different story for a different day.” She nods her understanding.

Our eyes both linger on our connected hands before we look at each other again. To my surprise, Beth’s blue eyes drop to my mouth before she leans forward, planting a soft kiss on my lips. I weave my hand through the hair at the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. Our other hands are still intertwined as we both squeeze, the rings on my fingers digging into my skin as we become desperate to be closer to one another.

I kiss her softly, with more care than I used the first night we spent together. Before, I couldn’t get enough. Now, I want to savor this moment.

She pulls away from me, my lips turning cold from her absence.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice shaking.

The timidness radiating off Beth is uncharacteristic. I can’t help myself when I say, “You do remember I had my mouth on your pussy not too long ago, right?” I smile at her, our lips only inches apart, my hand still resting on the back of her neck.

She nods slightly. “Yeah, but kissing… it’s more intimate.”

My eyebrows scrunch together. “And that scares you?”

“A lot of shit scares me.” Her eyes finally meet mine, the glistening from before now back in full force as tears begin to pool at the base of her irises.

I soften my tone. “Do I scare you?”

She hesitates, unsure of how to answer before briefly shaking her head.

“Hey.” I move my hand to her cheek. “Beth, look at me. I would never hurt you.” A tear falls down her cheek, and I catch it with my thumb, wiping it away. A pain radiates in my chest at the sight.

“Beth, look at me.” I tilt her head, prompting her to look at me as her tears continue to fall quietly. “I’d personally put anyone who laid a hand on you six feet under, and I wouldn’t think twice about it, but I’d never hurt you. Talk to me.”

Something flashes across her eyes, but it’s gone before I can catch it. The moment disappears as fast as it came. She pulls away, standing from the picnic blanket as she wipes the remainder of her tears.

“I think we should go. I have a lot of work to do.” That’s all she says before she makes her way back toward the Mustang.

19

BETH

To say I’m embarrassed would be an understatement. Today was actually fun, not that I’d ever admit that openly to Alex. That is, until I went and ruined it with my crying, which is unusual for me to do in the presence of others.

Even Sienna has only ever seen me cry twice since we were five years old, and Benny, only three times. I’m not blind to the fact that I don’t let people in easily. I usually prefer to keep them out on purpose. Yet here comes Alex, tearing through my walls before I have a chance to secure them in place.

Hence why we’ve been driving in silence since we left the racetrack. He was tolerable today, but I still can’t figure out how tolerable signals to my brain that he should be trusted enough that I let a tear slip past in front of him. Though I’ve barely been holding it together as it is, considering the notes and how frequently I find myself looking over my shoulder recently.

All that talk of him not hurting me, me actually believing him, was too much.