Hate to Love You - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Hannah
"You know Tristan Beckett wants to bone you, right?"
We'd been driving for the past ten minutes, and I had to listen to my younger brother rave about that asshole for every single one of those minutes. Why couldn't he have another idol? One I didn't know?
"Can we all stop calling him Tristan Beckett? That's so weird. He's Tristan — just Tristan. We don't have to include his surname every time we talk about him." My hands clenched around the steering wheel as I stared straight ahead. "And he doesn't want to bone me," I added stubbornly.
Jace snorted. "Uh, yeah, he does."
I directed a glare at him. "You don't know that for sure."
"Uh, yeah, I do. Did you see the look on his face when he thought I was your boyfriend? He was jealous."
The thought of Tristan being jealous over me made me... uncomfortable. I didn't want to think about it because if I did, I'd never stop.
"Can we stop talking about this? Tristan Be— dammit, Tristan is never going to get the opportunity to bone me, so this conversation is pointless." I swallowed hard, now desperate to change the subject.
"Are you sure about that? Because I saw the way you were looking at each other. You guys had a vibe."
"Vibe? What vibe? There was no vibe— you're imagining things." I forced myself to sound disgusted even as my heart beat loud enough to echo in my ears.
"There was totally a sex vibe."
"Ew, I'm your sister. Do you really want to discuss any sex vibes I might have with a guy?"
"Not normally, but if it means that Tristan Beckett will be my brother-in-law, then yeah. Don't fumble this one, Hannah. Imagine the babies you two would make. With both his and my genes combined, the baby's definitely making it into the football hall of fame." He sounded like the idea excited him.
My mouth positively dropped open in shock. "Brother-in-law, babies — what! No! Get those thoughts out of your head! Have I mentioned that we don't get along? And do you really think I want to be in a relationship right now, especially after my last one? Any more mention of that man and I will stop this car and you can walk home."
He laughed dryly. "You sound like Mom."
Ouch. He didn't have to hit that hard.
"Yeah, well, you sound like Bailey."
"Hey! That's going too far."
Jason and Bailey's relationship was anything but friendly these days. Whenever they crossed paths, Bailey took pleasure in antagonizing him, and his reactions were nothing short of intense. He never listened when I told him to ignore her or walk away, always unable to resist taking the bait. And so Bailey always found new ways to push his buttons.
"And your mom comment wasn't? Come on, you know it was cruel."
"Fine. I'll stop the Tristan Beckett talk if you stop the Bailey talk. I'm pretty sure if you said her name enough times, you'd summon her. Like bloody Mary."
I grinned. "Bailey, Bailey, Ba-"
"Stop!"
°•°•°•°
Tristan
The groups of people surrounding us erupted in cheers as I sank yet another ball into the red solo cups. Ryan groaned and picked up the cup to chug the lukewarm beer, burping loudly.
"Ready to eat literal shit, Gomez?" I asked, throwing the small orange ball up in the air and catching it in the other hand.
"Born ready, Cap'n," he slurred, giving me a tipsy salute as he swayed in place.
I chuckled at Ryan's obvious unsteadiness, eyes fixed on that final cup. One last cup and I won. One last cup and Ryan would be the one who had to drink the vile concoction that someone had assembled using various condiments and dressings scavenged from the kitchen cupboards. It was practically guaranteed that the majority of that shit was expired and rancid.
"Wait!" Skylar yelled from beside me, grabbing the hand holding the ball. "Let me give it a good luck kiss!"
I let her guide my hand toward her lips, and she pressed her blood-red lips to my fingers and the ball, leaving behind a bright lipstick stain. She shot me a flirtatious grin as she pulled away, and I could only give her a slightly strained smile. Readying myself to take the shot, I threw the ball, watching as it bounced and landed in the last cup.
The resulting cheers from all the people gathered around us were deafening, but I was used to it. Part of me even needed it — needed my victories, no matter how small and insignificant, to be acknowledged and praised by these people. How else was I supposed to know whether it meant anything? Especially when this one didn't feel earned. Ryan was obviously unsteady on his feet and I didn't have a drop of alcohol in my system. It was a cheap victory, and yet their cheers still brought me a small measure of satisfaction. Pathetic.
What I wasn't expecting was Skylar's subsequent squeal before she jumped into my arms. Moving quickly, I caught her before she fell, and righted her as she giggled while nearly tipping back over again. The Jungle Juice she'd been drinking for the past hour was starting to take a toll on her, and she could barely stand up straight. I looked around for her friend — our other group member — but all I could see were crowds of drunk college students having the time of their lives. My eyes lingered on them as I felt this disconnect I still couldn't shake. A year ago, I would have been in those crowds.
Ryan grabbed the shot glass handed to him and downed its contents in one go, swallowing the mix of yellow, red, and brown liquid. It took a moment for the taste to hit him, his complexion shifting from brown to a pale green. He gagged before bolting off in a random direction, followed closely by Rosa, his girlfriend, as everyone laughed.
"Want to try my drink? It tastes sooo good." Sky leaned into me, trying to get me to take a sip from her cup as she waved it in front of my face.
I eyed the beverage, feeling a familiar wash of irritation. What was I even doing with this woman?
It was stupid to give her any hope when I certainly had no interest in fucking her. Now, thanks to an impulsive decision made out of anger and disappointment, I was stuck with her. I was also getting really fucking tired of all of the constant touching and jumping on me every chance she got — it didn't matter how much I carefully removed her, she just kept coming back. And yet I still couldn't bring myself to say anything.
Pulling my head back from the beverage, I cleared my throat. "I'm good, thanks. You enjoy it."
"Aw, come on. Just a little sip," she insisted, playfully pushing the cup against my lips again and a small drop splashed against my lips. I tasted the sickeningly sweet liquid, as well as the familiar underlying taste.
A woman on top of me, hazy as her small fingers tried to unzip my pants.
"I'm sorry. There was no other way."
My blood turned to ice at the memory, and I stepped away from Skylar, knocking the drink from my face with more force than I intended. The cup flew from her grip and hit the floor, rolling as its contents merged with the already spilled alcohol, adding to the sticky mess. She looked at it and then at me in shock.
"Shit," I hissed, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to knock it out of your hands... it's just that I don't drink, and I don't like it when people try and pressure me into it."
She blanched, both hands reaching for me. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... I was just trying to... I didn't realize that..." Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to find the right words, obviously feeling bad over her actions.
Guilt pierced through my chest and I gave her a reassuring smile. "It's okay. I know yo—" My words trailed off when a glimpse of blonde hair and a red hoodie caught my eye, weaving through the crowd.
"I have to go," I said, extracting myself from her completely and taking off after the retreating red figure.
Hannah.
Now that I had her name, it rolled around in my mind, refusing to leave. No longer Hoodie-girl, but Hannah.
Hannah.
It suited her. Pretty with a certain strength that seemed to match the sharpness in her cold blue eyes, especially when they looked at something they didn't like. A lot of the time, that thing was me.
Hannah.
Today had been the first time she'd flirted back, and it nearly brought me to my knees, even if she hadn't meant any of it. To be honest, I didn't know what to think of her. Majority of the time, she was all sharp edges and frost, walls built so high you'd need a telescope to see the top. But at other times, there was a spark, a bite behind her words that always threw me off my game. Because I loved it when that side of her came out to clash with me. When her eyes narrowed and her face flushed in anger.
When all of her attention was on me.
"Hannah." I grabbed the person's upper arm, expecting to see a face now as familiar as my own. What I didn't expect was the mustache and goatee, or the blown-out pupils.
From afar, he'd reminded me of her — long blonde hair and slender, but from up close, there was no resemblance. He just looked like your typical stoner. Quickly releasing his arm, I stepped back and apologized. "Shit, man. I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."
The man narrowed his eyes at me. "Don't I know you from somewhere? Wait, did you ever do a nude shoot with Dave and his Persian cats?"
Both my eyebrows shot up, disturbed. "Nope, not me, buddy. I apologize for grabbing you. I'll leave you to whatever you were doing."
"Are you sure? Because I swear I remember—"
"I'm sure. Trust me." Giving his shoulder an awkward pat, I turned to leave, making my way out the nearest door to avoid getting stopped by anyone hoping to have a quick chat.
The cool air was a welcome reprieve from the stale humid air of the football house, and I took a deep breath.
Was I losing it? It sure felt like it. I mean, could I not go a single fucking hour without thinking about that infuriating woman? I had just chased down some random guy because he vaguely resembled her. Talk about fucking pathetic.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I leaned back against the wall. I was tired, and every inch of my body felt stiff, something I'd been trying to ignore for the last hour. I had taken a few hard hits during the game, and my ribs were screaming, likely bruised and in need of an ice pack. Actually, I was plain fucking exhausted now that the adrenaline had worn off and I was out of that crowd.
"Fuck," I mumbled, my head falling back as I closed my eyes.
I wanted to see her again. I didn't want to wait until Monday.
"You okay, man?" A voice interrupted my thoughts.
Opening my eyes, I turned my head to see who the person was. It was Matthew, arm around the redhead — Jamie? — as they both looked at me with concern. It was obvious that they'd been looking for somewhere quiet and secluded.
Clearing my throat, I forced a grin. "I'm good. Just getting some fresh air before I—" I paused, a sudden idea striking me. "Actually, could you do me a favor? Both of you?"
"Sure, man, what do you need?" Matthew inquired, with a nod from Joy.
"I need you to let everyone know that I went home early and that I'm fine. Just a little bruised. And," I looked at Justine, "Think you could give me Hannah's phone number?"
A broad grin split across her face and she nodded. "Of course I can."
I returned the smile. "Thanks. I owe you both."
°•°•°•°
Hannah
I was sitting on my bed, my right foot tucked under my left knee, and brushing my hair when my phone pinged with a message. I put the hairbrush down and leaned forward, my loose tank top brushing against the tops of my thighs as I strained to reach my phone. My fingers wiggled until they could get a grip on the black screen at the bottom of my bed — thrown there when I went to shower — and I pulled it to me.
I was expecting it to be from my mom or Bailey, but it wasn't. I frowned at the unknown number and opened the message.
?: So I never actually asked if you did have a boyfriend.
?: This is Tristan, btw.
I dropped the phone.
Bringing my hand to my throat, I looked around my room in a daze, almost like I believed he was going to materialize right in front of me. What was the saying? Speak of the devil...
No way Tristan was messaging me right now, I had to be seeing things. Or this was someone else named Tristan.
How'd he get my number? Why was he messaging me? Wasn't he supposed to be at some party, possibly hooking up with another girl? My fingers trembled as I picked up my phone again.
?: This is Hannah, right? I doubt that redhead gave me a fake number. She seemed really happy to be giving it to me.
With a groan, I fell back onto the mattress, bouncing from the force. You bet Jenny was going to be full of questions tomorrow, and if Amanda found out... my life was going to be hell. Sighing, I lifted my phone above my face and typed out a message.
H: This isn't Hannah, sorry. You have the wrong number.
His answer was almost immediate.
T: And now I definitely know it's you. So, do you have a boyfriend?
Damn. So maybe he was starting to understand me, but so what?
H: You mean besides my brother? No.
T: My bad... if it helps, I think he's a pretty cool kid. You guys look so alike.
H: Maybe that's how genetics work.
T: Are you always this difficult?
H: Have you met me?
T: Fair point. But joke's on you, I'm just as difficult, if not more so, and two negatives make a positive.
H: Oh wow, you know how to do math. Want a reward?
T: I respond well to rewards, especially the naked kind. You offering? Say the word, and I could be there in five minutes.
I hated how the offer made my lips twitch. And I especially hated how tempting it was.
H: Nice try, Casanova, but that's a hard no. Aren't you supposed to be at some party or something?
This time, he didn't answer right away, and my mind began to race, coming up with its own answers. Maybe he'd been distracted by some hot woman in killer heals and an enviable cleavage. Or a hot woman in sneakers and tight shorts, like Skylar. An image of him with a pretty woman who looked a lot like her began to form in my mind, and I felt a wave of nausea roll over me.
My phone pinged, and I dove for it. Don't worry, even I was a little ashamed of my behavior.
T: I went home early. I'm fucking tired and my whole body hurts. Didn't really feel like partying up a storm.
H: Are you alone?
Again, it took him a while to respond. My eyes stayed glued to the screen, waiting for his reply to pop up. It was almost sad, but I needed to know his answer. Even if I knew I wasn't going to like it.
T: Do you really think I'd be talking to you if I was with a girl right now? Believe it or not, I don't sleep with every girl who crosses my path.
I can't even begin to describe the amount of relief I felt from reading those words, even felt a little bad for my assumption. I finally let myself breathe, inhaling deeply as I worked to calm my racing heart. I took a few seconds to gather myself, but it was pointless. My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my ears.
H: I don't know a lot about you and what little I do know, doesn't bode well for you. It was safer to bet that you were with a girl.
H: Am I wrong?
T: Okay, that's fair. I haven't exactly given you the best impression, but if you give me the opportunity, I could show you that I'm more than the asshole you have me pegged for. I'm pretty cool, even if I do say so myself.
I scoffed and put the phone down. Jason was right, Tristan Beckett wanted to bone me.
But that didn't matter. He wasn't interested in me, only my body. And there were plenty of other girls more willing than me. Prettier too. I wasn't ready for any kind of relationship, sexual or romantic, not after Dylan and the hell he put me through. I wasn't ready to put myself at the mercy of a man again. I needed control and stability and I felt like I was only starting to find myself now.
He had the power to ruin everything I've worked so hard to repair with just his mischievous grin alone.
But still, I couldn't help myself as I smiled and picked up my phone.
H: I look forward to watching you fail.
T: Oh, now you've really done it. I can never say no to a challenge.