Hate to Love You - Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Hannah
"Hey, Tristan."
Skylar motioned to the seat next to her, red lips grinning hopefully as she looked up at him. But instead of joining her, he went for the seat next to mine — the one my bag was on. He pulled the chair out, grabbed my bag, and stashed both of our bags on another chair before sitting down.
Right next to me.
A subtle tension hung in the air as Skylar's lips pursed, her gaze darting between Tristan and me. Cassandra cleared her throat at the awkward atmosphere. I wrestled with my own emotions, forcefully suppressing the annoying spark of satisfaction that dared to race through my heart.
My body stiffened as his chair pivoted slightly toward me, our knees brushing against each other. I half-expected him to shift away, to put a stop to the contact, but he didn't. I frowned at the sight of our knees touching. If he wasn't going to pull away, then I should, right?
I didn't.
"How are we doing today, ladies?" Tristan drawled as he casually slung an arm over the back of my chair.
I eyed his arm, but then I remembered I'd been much closer to him than this. "Oh, good. You're here. Skylar was worried about you." Giving her a meaningful look, I left it to her to continue the conversation.
While she took over, my fingers sought out the flash drive nestled within the zipper pocket of my hoodie, deliberately brushing aside his actions and tuning out the ongoing conversation between him and the girls.
An unexpected jolt surged through me as my upper back brushed against the warmth of his forearm, that small touch sending a shiver down my back. I shifted my position ever so slightly to the right, resulting in the heel of his thumb resting against my shoulder. Before I could lean forward, his thumb stirred to life, tracing a gentle circle against the fabric of my hoodie.
Caught off guard, I sucked in a sharp breath, my startled gaze darting in his direction, but he was preoccupied with listening to Skylar. She recounted her week, something about basketball, and other details that I failed to catch.
As her words faded into the background, the world narrowed to that single point of contact — to the soft, rhythmic sweep of his thumb across my shoulder. He was doing it on purpose, but why? Was he trying to irritate me again?
"Are you nervous for the game tomorrow?" Skylar's question broke my trance, and I looked up to see her resting her chin on her palm and beaming up at Tristan.
Game? Tomorrow? Football, I recalled. His thumb's movements came to a halt, nearly burning a hole through the fabric of my clothing.
He shrugged, eyes becoming hooded as he threaded his fingers through his wavy hair. "Nah, we've got this in the bag. We always do."
My attention turned to him as I searched his face. Something in his tone made me think he wasn't as confident as he was trying to sound. Skylar and Cassandra didn't pick up on it, only joked and gave him words of encouragement, but I had caught that pause, that slight hesitation before he spoke.
"Well, our group of girlfriends will be traveling to the game. It's in Boulder, right?"
Wait, did she just say Boulder?
"Yeah. Tomorrow evening. Thanks for coming to support us, it's always nice to see fans at away games." He cocked his head and smiled, a stray lock of dark hair falling into his eyes.
"Are you kidding? Half of the college is gonna be there, doesn't matter if it's an hour and a half away." Skylar chuckled.
"And you?" Tristan looked down at me. "Will you be there?"
I tilted my head back to meet his gaze. "It's not really my thing."
Did I imagine the disappointment in his eyes?
"Of course it isn't," he muttered, pulling his arm back as his whole demeanor changed. I blinked, surprised by the sudden change in his attitude. Since when did we have the kind of relationship where I went to his games? We weren't even friends.
"Should we get started? I'm sure this one's getting impatient." Tristan jerked his thumb at me, smirking when the other two laughed.
I glared at him before placing my flash drive on the table. "Here's all of my research. I've put it in a report format and created a separate folder with all of the info that should go on the PowerPoint exactly as is. It's referenced and everything. I've even included a few images and videos that I think would go well with the PowerPoint. You don't have to use them, though."
"Oh wow, way to make me look incompetent. I just brought the raw research." Cassandra laughed softly, tucking a copper strand behind her ear.
"That wasn't what I wa—"
"She's joking, Hoodie-girl." Tristan gently tapped my knee with his own.
"Right... I knew that."
Cassandra presented her research and Skylar showed us the beginnings of her PowerPoint, which was pretty simple and to the point. The last girl I worked with gave it butterfly transitions and heart borders. I much preferred this. Tristan showed us the list of interview questions he'd composed. I was pleasantly surprised by their quality; I had expected we would need to revise them, but they were all well thought out.
"I also asked a friend of mine if we could interview him," Tristan added. "He works at one of the psych clinics, and they often pay college students to participate in research studies. He mentioned he could also get a few participants to answer our questions."
I observed him as he spoke, making an effort to conceal my surprise at how engaged he was. Usually, I hated group projects because there were always members who put little to no effort into the project. More often than not, I had to shoulder most of the work, especially if I wanted a good grade — but this was a surprisingly competent group. Cassandra agreed to put the final report together once Tristan was done, and both she and Skylar promised to email us the finished product by next week.
"If you need any help with the PowerPoint, just let me know, yeah?" Tristan said to Skylar.
Her eyes sparkled. "I'm probably gonna need help at some point. How about you come over to my place on Sunday and—"
Her voice was so fucking annoying.
Everyone looked up, surprised when I stood up abruptly, the chair legs letting out a loud screech against the tiled floor.
"I have to go to the bathroom, so I'm gonna pack up and head out," I announced, my tone clipped.
Tristan frowned and leaned back, surveying my odd behavior. Avoiding his eyes, I quickly rushed to pick up all of my things. I went to grab my bag and realized it was where Tristan had put it, next to his own. His bag, a maroon sports bag, had several keychains — a mini rubber football, the number thirteen, a resin stick-figure family, and a plastic dog paw. My eyes lingered on them as I pulled my bag onto my back.
"Are you okay?" Cassandra asked.
I looked at her, eyes wide. "Of course I am. Why do you ask?"
"You seem...off."
"I'm fine. Just need to go to the bathroom. I'll see you guys in class."
"See you!" Skylar called out to me as Cassandra waved.
Tristan stayed silent, but I could sense his gaze following me as I moved away. I stole a quick look back, only to find his intense stare fixed on me. Our eyes locked, causing my steps to falter as I nearly tripped over air. Shaking my head to break the spell, I quickly averted my gaze and focused on the path ahead, determined to keep my composure as I continued to walk away.
°•°•°•°
I formed a makeshift bowl with my hands and splashed water onto my face, needing a wake-up call. However, the cool water did nothing to calm the storm of emotions raging through me. There was a distinct pang gnawing at my stomach and it felt suspiciously like jealousy.
Was I seriously jealous?
"What is wrong with me?" I whispered to my reflection.
The mirror only showed me a disheveled girl, her face red and plastered with wet strands of hair. It revealed nothing but a hot mess.
"Pull yourself together, dammit!" My voice reverberated throughout the small compact bathroom. Thankfully it was one of the smaller bathrooms and a lot more private — hence the reason I chose it.
Suddenly, the door flew open, making me jump in fright, and a girl rushed past me to get to one of the stalls. She didn't even have time to close the door before I heard her retching into the toilet bowl. I watched through the mirror as her body convulsed violently, expelling the contents of her stomach.
She stayed bent over the toilet, dry heaving, until nothing but bile was coming out. When it finally stopped and she could catch her breath, she flushed and slowly stood, turning around and avoiding eye contact as she made her way to the sink.
Now that I could see her face, I couldn't help but notice how pale and drawn-out she looked. She was a small, delicate-looking woman with thin dark hair that hung just past her shoulders. Her soft pink dress draped over her slender form loosely, and her wrists were so thin I could probably circle them with my fingers.
Maybe it was her weak and sickly appearance, but I relaxed, forgetting about my earlier problems as I peered over at her. She still wouldn't look at me as she washed her hands and mouth under the tap. When she caught me watching her in the mirror, she finally looked up and I was met with pretty hazel eyes, framed by a dark fringe. She looked so young — too young for college, and I wondered if she was one of the high schoolers who sometimes used our library.
I offered her a faint, friendly smile. "You okay?" I asked, grabbing some paper towels and dabbing at my face before any more stray water drops could fall onto the front of my hoodie.
She gave me a small nod. "I'm sorry you had to see that. It's just... a stomach bug. It's been a little hard to get rid of."
"Maybe you should go home if you're not feeling too well. You look like you're about to pass out at any second."
"I'm alright." She gave me a small, reassuring smile — though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "This stomach bug will die sooner or later. I can't go home until it does." Realizing how odd that sounded, she blushed and it was the first bit of color I'd seen on her. "What I mean by that is I don't want to get my... boyfriend sick too."
I frowned. He should be taking care of her in this state. But if she lived with him, then did that mean she was older than I originally clocked her for? "Do you go here?"
She nodded. "Yes, I'm a first-year."
Yeah, that made sense. She looked young, but that was just because of her petite frame.
"A freshman, huh? I don't envy you. My first year was... yeah. In hindsight, not great." My eyes widened when I realized what I was saying. "Don't listen to me, I'm sure this year will be great, even if it doesn't feel like it right now. I mean, we're only three weeks into the semester, it's bound to get better." Wincing, I decided to start again. "I'm sure you miss your family a lot. It can be a big adjustment."
Her flinch made me worry I'd touched another nerve — because of course I had. It seemed like I had a knack for it. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. Forget I said anything."
"It's alright," she murmured. "It's... complicated."
"Got it. I understand." And I did — my own family situation was far from ideal, but I needed to get out of here before I made an even bigger fool of myself. "Well, I hope you get better,...?"
"Beth," she answered, introducing herself. "And you?"
"I'm Hannah." I gave her a friendly smile, hoping I didn't like look too much of a mess with my damp face and disheveled hair.
Instead of smiling back, she froze, her gaze lingering on me — on my hair, my eyes — as if she were seeing me for the first time. Did I really look that bad?
"What year are you?" she asked, her tone a bit off from before.
"I'm a junior. Health sciences." I hesitated, confused by her reaction. "Do we know each other?" Oh god, what if she was reacting like this because of those stupid rumors Amanda and Penelope had spread?
"No," she said, shaking her head as she turned off the tap. She looked down, drying her hands with paper towels. "I just thought... you were really pretty. I like your eyes. They're so blue."
Caught off guard by the sudden compliment, I stammered, "Thank you. I... I like yours too." I let out an awkward laugh. "Though, I don't think I'm looking my best right now. Seems like we've both had a rough day."
She continued to stare at me, her expression a bit more guarded. "Really? What happened?"
I forced a smile, shaking my head. The atmosphere felt weird now. "Oh, it's nothing. Honestly, it's silly when I think about it — it doesn't even qualify as boy troubles because..." I shook my head, not wanting to get into my feelings about Tristan. "You're the one who's sick. That's a lot worse than whatever I'm dealing with. I really hope you feel better soon." I gave her a friendly smile.
"Thank you," she mumbled, looking away.
I hesitated because she still looked pale, but I also had to get going. I couldn't do much except offer some advice. "Listen, I have to go. I have an afternoon class soon. But we have a GP on campus, and it's free, so if you don't feel any better by the end of the day or tomorrow, you should definitely go see them, okay?"
She nodded, looking down again. "You should probably go then. It was nice meeting you, Hannah."
I swallowed. "Right. It was nice meeting you too. Maybe we'll see each other around?" I was already heading for the door.
"Maybe." She watched me leave.
With one last polite smile, I walked out of the girl's bathroom, narrowly passing two girls wanting to enter. I looked back, checking to see if the girl was leaving too, but saw no sign of her. Shaking my head, I endeavored to forget about that weird encounter and headed towards the exit.
As I passed a small group of friends at a table, I heard one of them say, "Can't wait for the game tomorrow. It's gonna be epic. Did you see the arm on our Thirteen last week? Not saying I'd trade my firstborn for his skills, but I totally would."
"You'd suck his dick if he let you," someone else responded, laughing.
As I walked away, an idea began to form in my head. Reaching for my phone in my jeans pocket, I unlocked it and scrolled down to my contacts. I quickly found his number and pressed dial. He picked up after the first ring.
"Hey, so I have an idea..."