Hate to Love You - Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Hannah
B: We could always get married. Who needs men anyway?
I couldn't help but laugh as I leaned forward, typing out my reply while the class slowly filled up around me. I had a bit of time to kill, so while everyone chattered and laughed around me, I kept texting with Bailey, ignoring the rising noise level as I hit send.
H: When we're 30, maybe. I'm not looking to settle down anytime soon, but I agree. Men suck. That asshole's gonna regret ghosting you.
B: Maybe I was too kinky for him? He did look scared when I bought out the chains.
H: Oh my God, you still have those?
B: Of course I do. They hold a lot of good memories for me.
H: You're such a freak.
B: You know when we're married, I'm gonna use them on you.
I chuckled and shook my head at her antics. Bailey's mother worked for a pretty famous lingerie and adult toy franchise as a regional manager, which meant Bailey had access to all kinds of things pertaining to sex. Her parents were also really open and encouraging, never strict or controlling. The complete opposite of my mother. What I was trying to get at is that she'd been like this our whole life. Crazy, outgoing, and unashamed. The complete opposite of me.
Men had never met a woman more secure in herself, and it terrified them.
"You're laughing? That's new. Didn't know you could do that," a familiar voice drawled.
I looked up at Fuckface and my smile dropped. My mind flashed to the other morning — to the memories of his strong body wrapped around mine, his hands on parts of me that couldn't forget the warmth of his touch, no matter how much I tried.
"Can I help you?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent.
He lifted his hand, revealing the brown paper bag and coffee cup he was holding.
"A deal's a deal, right?"
I glanced around, noting the curious stares from the people nearby, including the two girls in front of me. They kept sneaking glances at him, even though they were trying to be subtle about it.
Looking back up at him, I hesitated for a moment, weighing whether I should accept the offerings. But the enticing aroma of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies proved too irresistible. My resolve crumbled, and I took the bag and cup from him. Immediately, I buried my face in the bag and inhaled deeply, a soft moan escaping my lips. As much as I wanted to resist him, I couldn't ignore the bribe — so I rationalized it as a well-deserved treat after that traumatizing morning.
Bringing a cookie to my mouth, I took a bite, and it instantly melted on my tongue. I struggled to keep a satisfied sigh from escaping. Trying to maintain a facade of indifference, I must have failed, because he chuckled, the sound settling in my lower belly.
"Good?" he asked, grinning.
I glanced at him briefly, my annoyance creeping back as I shrugged. "It's just a cookie."
"You're welcome," he said, rolling his eyes.
"Thanks," I muttered, feeling a little guilty for my attitude as I nibbled on the edge of a cookie.
I nearly dropped my treat when he tossed his backpack on the desk and plopped himself into the seat next to me. He immediately started manspreading, his leg pressing into mine.
"What are you doing? This wasn't part of the agreement."
"It wasn't not part of the agreement." His grin was infuriatingly beautiful.
Crossing his arms, he settled into the seat, appearing entirely at ease. He closed his eyes, adopting a relaxed posture, which only served to amplify my frustration. Even while half-lying on the chair, he still managed to tower over me, his black compression shirt accentuating his bulging arms and chest. The sight was annoyingly distracting.
"Your existence gives me a headache. Can't you go sit somewhere else?"
"No." He never even bothered to open his eyes as he answered me.
"Are you being serious right now?" I glared at him.
"As a heart attack — or a headache in your case." His lips curved into a small self-satisfied smile.
Asshole.
"Why are you doing this right now? I thought the feeling was mutual?"
"Just trying to prove a point to myself. Plus, I'm in a good mood — I had a good weekend," was the only vague answer I received.
My eyes shot daggers at him as I seethed in silence, but he remained completely unaffected. I couldn't stay here. And I was tired of everyone constantly staring at us. Clenching my fists tightly, I tore my gaze away from him. New plan — I would move somewhere else. I started quickly gathering my belongings, shoving them into my bag.
He popped one eye open and asked, "What are you doing?"
"Leaving."
"Tucking tail, huh? Coward." He snorted and closed his eyes again.
Determined not to engage in another pointless argument, I stayed silent and stood up, hoisting my bag over my shoulder. The strap pulled at the fabric of my dark blue hoodie, and I took a moment to adjust it before scanning the room for empty seats.
The lecture hall was pretty much empty except for two seats. One was right next to the air conditioner, which was infamous for its icy gusts, and the other was beside a weird guy who seemed engrossed in something beneath his desk. Our professor had a habit of cranking the AC to the max, so entering the room felt like stepping into a freezer.
I did not like being cold.
Weird guy it was.
"Everyone settle down and take a seat!" The professor's voice boomed through the room, demanding everyone's attention. "We need to discuss your upcoming assignment."
Shit.
I sat back down with a huff, ignoring his amused chortle, and kept my face facing the front of the class. New new plan — ignore him for the rest of class.
"Looks like you're stuck with me. Sucks to be you," he sing-songed.
I didn't reply.
"Am I annoying you?"
Yes.
"I feel like I'm annoying you."
You are.
"My bad."
He didn't sound sorry, only amused.
"How come you're always wearing hoodies? It's kinda giving pick-me girl." The corner of his mouth lifted as he worked to break my silence.
And he was kinda giving douchebag. What was wrong with hoodies? They were perfection. Warm, comfortable, and you could wear them just about everywhere. They also came in different colors and styles. They were amazing. I scowled at him but said nothing, knowing he was purposely trying to antagonize me.
"So you're giving me the silent treatment, huh? Reaaaal mature," he taunted.
Don't say a word, Hannah.
Instead, I focused my attention on the professor, determined to concentrate on the important information he was about to share.
"In groups of four, you'll be researching ethical issues in Health Psychology Research, focusing on ethical considerations in your chosen topic." Professor Haynes began, opening his laptop. "I'll provide a list of specific ethical dilemmas to choose from, which you can also find in Chapter Twelve of your textbook."
He paused briefly as he finished getting ready for the lecture. "Once your group selects an issue, you'll research and present a case study that highlights that dilemma. You'll need to discuss how researchers can address these concerns while maintaining ethical standards. You have three weeks to complete the assignment. Your group will consist of you, your seatmate, and the two people seated directly behind you. These will be your permanent seats for the rest of the semester. No switching unless you can convince me otherwise. I'll be handing out the list shortly. If you have any questions, ask now."
I sat there in shell-shocked silence. As Professor Haynes distributed the lists to each row, a sinking feeling of horror washed over me. I couldn't believe what I had just heard — I was going to be stuck next to Fuckface for the entire semester. I wouldn't survive it.
My dazed state was interrupted as Fuckface leaned forward, his lips dangerously close to my ear. "Looks like you're really stuck with me now," he muttered with a low chuckle, his warm breath brushing against my skin. I barely held back my shiver.
I could always drop out. Become a stripper — Bailey would love that, but my parents wouldn't. So not a viable option. Next option was to ask the professor if I could change seats and groups with someone else, but what reason could I give? He annoyed me? Professor Haynes would look at me like I was a piece of old gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
"Hey." One of the girls in front of us turned around, broad mouth stretching into a wide, confident smile.
Her strong features — Roman nose, long face, light blonde hair, and an athletic build — gave her an almost Viking-like appearance. She wore a sports jacket and dark blue jeans complete with some white sneakers. She definitely had to be an athlete, maybe track?
The girl next to her was also quite tall, with bright copper hair, large black framed glasses, and every inch of her skin was plastered with freckles. She was slender, not a hint of curves or bumps of any kind, and wore a red flannel button-up and loose jeans with worn sneakers. She pushed her glasses up her small button nose and gave us an awkward wave.
"Hello, ladies." Fuckface flicked his chin, gracing them with his most charming smile.
Internally, I rolled my eyes.
The Viking woman returned his confident smile with one of her own while the redhead blushed and looked away. Her knee knocked into her seatmate's chair and she winced. It was both relieving and irritating to see that he affected other women too.
"I'm Skylar and she's Cassandra. We know who you are, of course." She grinned, baring all of her pearly white teeth.
"Of course," Fuckface replied with a smug tone, intentionally glancing over at me.
"Here's the list." I injected before I was forced to introduce myself to anyone. "I say we go with—"
"Wait, you didn't tell us your name," Skylar interrupted, looking at me expectantly.
"Uhh..." I trailed off, looking at Fuckface. Was I going to be forced to reveal it now, after all the effort I went through to keep it from him?
But he just waved a hand at me, shaking his head like I was a lost cause. "Don't mind her, she won't tell me either. Doesn't even know who I am."
Cassandra's gaze ping-ponged between the two of us. "We kinda need to add your name to the project..." and then she frowned. "Wait, you really don't know who he is? How?"
I was not about to explain myself to a stranger, one I probably wasn't going to ever speak to again when the project was done, so I just gave her a polite, strained smile and said, "No, I don't know who he is, and I don't want to. I'll add my details when we're submitting it, so can we just focus on the topic at hand? As I was about to say, I think we should go with Participant Vulnerability." I pointed at it on the list. "We could interview other students who signed up for research studies."
Thankfully, the conversation shifted towards discussing our roles in the assignment. We settled on a plan, with Cassandra and I handling all of the research reports, Skylar and Fuckface preparing questions and conducting interviews, and then them taking charge of the presentation. Of course, I would submit everything. We agreed to meet on Friday afternoon to check on everyone's progress.
Throughout our discussion, I couldn't help but notice Skylar's blatant flirting with Fuckface. She was unapologetic and clear with her intentions, and he seemed to enjoy her attention, responding with equal charm. It took everything in me to stay quiet and not snap at them.
"I'll say this now so no one's surprised, but if any one of you doesn't pull your weight and do your part of the work, I have no problem ratting you out to the professor," I warned, giving Fuckface a pointed glare.
He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. I'm not in the habit of letting my teammates down."
"Neither will we." Skyler and Cassandra nodded in agreement.
As the class finally came to an end, I shouldered my bag and offered a small wave to the group before heading out of the room. I didn't miss when Fuckface stayed behind, engrossed in conversation with Skylar and laughing over something she said. My irritation grew as I saw her place a hand on his forearm and give it a playful squeeze.
What was wrong with me? I wasn't interested in him, so this should have made me happy. At least there was a chance that he would bother me less if he was focused on Skylar. So why did that thought make the tight knot in my throat grow bigger?