Hate to Love You - Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Tristan
I rapped lightly on the white door and pulled out my phone, ready to shoot a text while waiting. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a few girls peeking out of their dorm rooms or lingering in the hallway, trying to appear nonchalant despite all their gazes being fixated on me. One girl blushed when our eyes met and I shot her a playful wink, knowing it would set off a chain reaction of giggles amongst them.
It did.
H: I'm sorry, who is this again?
I looked back down at my screen and grinned, surprised by how much her sass pleased me.
T: The man of your dreams.
H: You mean my nightmares? I seem to recall you now.
Before I could type back, the door swung open, and I looked up. Both of my eyebrows shot up as I took in Skylar's attire.
"Sorry I took so long. I was in the shower."
"Should I wait outside while you get dressed?" I offered, making a point to keep my gaze above her neckline.
"Don't be ridiculous. Come on in."
She adjusted the towel around her, reaching out to grab my arm and pulling me into her room before swiftly closing the door behind us. I stood in the middle of her room, clearing my throat as I avoided looking directly at her. I slipped my hands into my pockets, the feel of my phone had my fingers itching to see if Hannah had sent another text.
The room was split into two halves. On my left, the desk was super organized, books stacked neatly. There were colorful notes stuck all over a corkboard above it, and just one motivational picture on the wall, pushing hard work and determination. The other side was a bit more chaotic, with some bright material tied to the metal frame of the bed. Posters of athletes and inspirational quotes were scattered all over the wall. One of them was a framed jersey with signatures all over it.
"What team?" I asked, pointing at the jersey.
"The Los Angeles Sparks. They're a female basketball team in the WNBA," she answered, walking over to her closet and opening the door.
I nodded, frowning when I heard the towel drop and she started to get dressed with me right there. Turning around so that I couldn't see anything, I pulled out my phone again to check if Hannah had said anything else. She hadn't.
"You play basketball?" I asked, trying to break the awkward silence.
"Yeah. I grew up watching and playing it with my dad before he passed away. He never got to see how far I've come, but I like to think he's proud of me," she shared as she rummaged through her closet.
T: What are you doing right now?
H: I'm studying in the library. Or trying to. Someone keeps interrupting me.
"Oh?" I muttered, eyes still glued to my screen, "That's cool."
T: You don't have to reply, you know.
"Uh... I guess. And you? Do you like basketball?"
H: Fine. I won't.
I grinned, imagining the glare that she'd be giving me if I was with her. This entire week, we talked all day, every day and I was pretty sure she was beginning to like me. She responded to all of my texts, and even opened up a little about her family life. I liked talking to her, and I liked learning new things about her — which was different. New to me.
"Hello?"
T: Wait, I was kidding...
"Tristan? Are you listening to me?"
T: Hannah...
T: Don't go...
T: I need you...
H: See what I mean? How is anyone supposed to concentrate like this?
T: Easy. Concentrate on me. Only me.
I jerked when a hand curled around my stomach from behind, traveling dangerously low. I quickly grabbed it to stop any more progression, pushing her arm away. I twisted around to see Skylar looking up at me with playful eyes, smirking.
"You're ignoring me. It's making me sad." She pouted, hand reaching for me again until I stepped back. That made her frown. "Everything okay? Is this about the drink the other night?"
I sighed, wondering how I should deal with this. We still had a presentation to do together, and I didn't want to upset our group dynamic by pissing her off or making things awkward. It was probably best to take a gentle approach.
"No, I know you didn't have any bad intentions — how could you have known? But I also have somewhere I need to be soon, so can we do this quickly? I think we can finish this in an hour, yeah?"
Her expression shifted to disappointment, and she dropped her hand. "Sure, I guess. I have everything ready for us to get started."
"Great." This time I gave her a wide grin as I put my phone away to focus on this project. Hannah would murder me if she thought I was slacking off even just a little bit. "Let's do this."
°•°•°•°
Sitting alone at one of the desks, she had her head bowed over a book, meticulously highlighting its pages. The library buzzed with activity around her, but she stayed in her little bubble of solitude — lost to the world.
As I walked by, heads turned, all their gazes fixing on me. Some of the people tried to strike up conversations, but I only acknowledged them with a nod and kept moving. This had become a part of my life, and I'd accepted it a long time ago, but sometimes I wasn't going to indulge them. I wasn't going to be an asshole, but I wasn't going to stop and chat either. Not when she was around, drawing all of my attention.
Murmurs rippled through the floor at my arrival, but she stayed engrossed in her work. It was only when I got close, almost as if she sensed my approach, that she raised her head. That familiar jolt rushed through my body when our eyes met.
It was crazy how aware I was of her at all times. Sitting next to her in class and not being able to touch her was pure torture.
She arched an elegant eyebrow as I approached her.
"Don't tell me you're here looking for another hook-up?"
I chuckled and stopped in front of her table, positioning myself across from her. "I don't just come to the library to hook up."
"Mh-hm..." She hummed, clearly not believing me.
"I also have assignments to do, or I'll fail. And then I'll get kicked off the football team. And we couldn't do that to the fans, now could we?" I walked around the table to deposit my bag onto an unoccupied chair and sat down next to her. "No private study room?"
"Now that I'm aware of what happens in those rooms, I'm too grossed out to go in them. No one's had sex on these tables... I think." She looked disturbed as she considered the probability.
I laughed as I pulled out my textbooks and laptop, setting them up on the table as I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ears, gaze darting to me. Our eyes connected and held, and I couldn't resist staring at her for several silent seconds.
She was so fucking beautiful.
We stayed looking at each other for a long while, silent as we took in the other. I wondered what she saw when she looked at me. Did she see the football star? The fuckboy? Or just another asshole?
She tilted her head at me. "What are you doing?"
I grinned and tapped her boot with my own under the table. "Looking at you."
"Yeah, but why?"
"Because you're beautiful. I like looking at you."
I heard her breathing halt as her eyes flashed at my words. She hadn't expected me to say that. It made me want to say it more. Say it so much that she rolled those hypnotizing blues at me.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr Beckett. You've got your pick of the litter, so why would I believe you're being genuine right now?" She shook her head with a scoff and looked back down, dismissing my words instantly.
I frowned, opening my mouth to argue before hesitating — would she even believe anything I said in defense? So I just grinned and sarcastically replied, "You know me too well."
She shrugged. "You aren't shy about your intentions. How was practice yesterday?"
I paused, noting her sudden subject change but rolling with it. "Good. I had to lecture Alex again because he kept tackling and humping the other players. Last week he was ball-tapping them in the lockers."
Laughing, she raised one brow. "What's ball tapping?"
"Uh... when you slap another guy's balls, with a towel in Alex's case. It hurts like a bitch."
She laughed again, louder. My dick, which had been at half-mast since I'd seen her, hardened painfully. I shifted to get more comfortable while basking in the victory of making her laugh. Man, it sucked that I felt no control over my desire for her. If I could just forget about her and move on to another girl, I feel like my sanity would come back. But, fuck me, I just couldn't stay away. Maybe I was a masochist.
"He sounds like a nuisance." She shook her head, a small smile on her full lips.
I zeroed in on them, struck by the sudden desire to kiss her. "He is, but he's a great running back so we all put up with it. It also means I've gotta constantly keep my eye on him to make sure he's not getting up to shit."
"You mean when you're also not getting up to shit?" She smirked, picking up a pink highlighter and running it over a sentence in her notes.
Ugh, I even liked the way she was still reading her notes while talking to me. Some would find it rude, but all it did was drive me wild. Why was I like this? I needed serious psychiatric help — here I was, sitting with a boner in a library. Now, I would admit that it wasn't the first hard-on I'd gotten in the library, but those were less public. As much as she accused me of having a taste for public sex, I liked keeping things as private as I could.
Shrugging innocently, I replied, "I have no idea what you could possibly mean. I'm practically a Saint."
"Yeah, Saint Lucifer. Now shut up, I need to study — I have a test next week."
I grinned. Because she didn't demand that I leave, because she was warming up to me, and because I could tell she really did like my company.