Hate to Love You - Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Tristan
I couldn't lie and say I wasn't disappointed.
But I'd get over it. In the meantime, I would continue to torture myself by spending more time with her.
After Hannah told me everything, our conversation shifted to other topics — namely, my family. Somehow, I found myself answering her questions about my childhood, sharing stories about my older siblings, Caleb and Megan, and talking about my mom and dad. I wanted to give her a different perspective on the kind of man my father was. Despite everything, I had nothing but respect and appreciation for him, and for some reason, it felt important that she knew that too.
Her laugh as I recounted my past antics was pure agony to listen to, yet all I wanted was to hear it again. So, I kept talking, saying anything that might coax another laugh out of her. Maybe it was why I couldn't bring myself to take her home yet. Instead, I invited her to Moxie's for dinner, making sure to add that my friends would be there too, so it wouldn't be like a date. It worked, but mostly because Hannah was hungry. I couldn't help but grin at that — I loved how food-driven she was. It was oddly... cute.
Friends. I could be her friend. Yeah.
When we arrived at Moxie's, the place was bustling and full of college students. A live band played on stage, and the place hummed with laughter and conversation. Waiting for Hannah to pass through the door I was holding open, I looked around for the location of my teammates and found them across the bar at an open table. It wasn't difficult to locate them, considering they had crowds of people surrounding their table.
"I see my friends — they're at the biggest table on the right," I said to Hannah, letting go of the door as my hand fell to settle on the small of her back, guiding her in the right direction.
Already, I was getting recognized as I led her through the room. I threw out several quick greetings to those I recognized. My hand never left her back, even when a group of four guys pushed close, blocking our path with excited grins on their faces. Two of them looked vaguely familiar, but the easy smile on my face would have them believing I recognized all of them.
"Hey, Number Thirteen! That seventy-five-yard touchdown you ran against Wyoming was unreal!" The dark-haired man closest to me shouted above the music, raising his hand for a fist bump.
One of his friends nodded, going on to say, "It was the talk of the whole campus today. You ran like the devil himself was on your ass."
I laughed at that. "It certainly felt like it. Did you see that Safety's face when he was chasing me? Stuff of nightmares, I tell you."
A couple of the others rushed to add their own thoughts when suddenly, one of the guys bumped into Hannah after his friend stood on his toes, causing her to stumble back with a startled gasp. Instinctively, my arm shot out, catching her around the waist and pulling her into my side. Her hand pressed against my chest, her nails digging into the hard muscle as she tried to steady herself. I felt her stop breathing as I cast my angry gaze at the man who bumped her. He righted himself, an apologetic expression covering his face as he turned to elbow his friend in the ribs.
"I'm sorry, lady. Didn't mean to push you," he spoke directly to Hannah and I felt her small nod as she accepted the apology.
Maybe because I was secretly a little happy for the excuse to hold Hannah, I chose to steer the conversation back on topic. "I'm glad you enjoyed the game. That touchdown was pretty fucking awesome, even if I do say so myself."
My words were met with cheers as they all relaxed once again, happy to see that I was no longer angry. The guy in front leaned in with a grin. "So, are you going to Diego's later? Word on the street says he's brought in some big-name Dutch DJ for the night. I think it's his dog's birthday or something. But you know Diego — he'll find any excuse to throw a party."
That was an understatement. Last week, he threw a party because his STD panel came back clean, so it didn't surprise me to hear he was throwing Cadejo a birthday bash. On any other day, I might have said yes; Cadejo and I had a solid bromance going on — he never left my side during my visits. But lately, I just didn't have the same interest in going out.
If I were being honest with myself, it had been that way for a while now, with the desire growing weaker as I took on more and more responsibilities. Without drinking or smoking, those kinds of parties lost a lot of their appeal.
When I did go, I mostly kept an eye out on my team — especially Alex — because he was a risk to himself and everyone around him after a few drinks. He actually reminded me a lot of my younger college self. If I wasn't doing that, I'd look for a girl I liked enough to go home with for the night, but that idea no longer sparked my interest, even if it was probably exactly what I needed.
"Nah, man. Not tonight," I answered, fingers flexing across Hannah's waist and ribcage as I involuntarily pulled her closer.
"You sure, dude? It's setting up to be an absolute rager. Trust me when I say you don't want to miss it. Remember Spring break two years back?"
The reminder made me grimace. Oh boy, did I. In fact, it had been hard to go back to my family and look my mother in the eyes after an entire week of drinking, fighting and fucking. I could still remember the look on my dad's face when I stumbled out of the airport and into his car's backseat before promptly passing out. He never said a thing, but that's because his face did all of the talking.
Clearing my throat as I glanced down at the woman in my arms listening with silent interest, my thumb beginning to rub small circles into the material of her hoodie.
Fuck, I was failing at this friends thing spectacularly. I couldn't bring myself to stop touching her. But she wasn't pulling away either.
"I'm good, guys. I can't go too wild during the season."
The man tried to mask his disappointment. "That makes sense, I guess. You're entering the draft early next year, right?"
Hannah suddenly tensed in my arms as I replied, "That's the plan."
The man nodded, his smile dimming. "Fuck, it's going to be so weird when you're gone, but I know you'll do us proud. Just don't forget about us, okay?"
I opened my mouth to respond but was cut short when Hannah suddenly pushed herself away, and I was forced to let go. Glancing down at her with concern, I tensed when I saw the look on her face. Was she upset? But when I saw the unease in her eyes, I realized she wanted out of there. Again, I had to remind myself that this wasn't normal for her.
"Listen, guys — it's been fun talking, but we've got to go. Our friends are waiting for us. I'll see you at our home game next week, yeah?" I raised a brow, keeping my tone light and inviting as I gently started moving Hannah and myself forward.
"Sure. I guess we'll also see you at the festival. And Halloween? You're coming to that one, right?"
"You know it. I'll be the prettiest one there." I smirked, continuing to push forward.
They all laughed and said their goodbyes, moving aside to let us through. We had only taken a few steps when Hannah tugged on my shirt. I stopped and turned back to her, worry creeping in as I noticed the distress still plaguing her eyes. Leaning closer, I asked, "What's wrong?"
"I need to go to the bathroom," she said, holding up a hand. "Go ahead and find your friends — I'll catch up with you after I'm done."
She didn't sound like her usual self, and it made me pause. "Are you sure? Do you want to leave? I can drive you home if you're not feeling up to being here."
Her smile was meant to reassure me and she shook her head. "Go. I'll see you soon."
Without waiting for my answer, she turned and headed for the bathroom. I watched her go, torn between chasing after her to find out what was wrong or trusting that she'd be okay.
Running a hand through my hair, I cursed under my breath and turned to walk towards my teammates. I couldn't follow her into the girls' bathroom anyway — and she'd be back as soon as she was done.
°•°•°•°
Hannah
What the fuck was I doing?
The whole time I was in his arms, I struggled to resist the urge to lean in, wrap my arms around him, and just breathe him in — in front of all those people. I was treading dangerous waters, questioning everything I thought I believed in. It hasn't even been one fucking day.
For entirely selfish reasons, I regretted pushing him away — not just physically. And it made me feel like the biggest hypocrite. It was unsettling to realize that my desires were starting to overpower the rational, scared parts of me.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw the queue outside the girls' bathroom, debating whether I wanted to stand and wait or return. But I genuinely needed to use the bathroom and I wasn't ready to face Tristan yet, not after being warned about the heartache that was coming when he'd leave.
That is — if I let myself get to that point.
Rubbing my forehead, I came to a stand behind a blue-haired, curvy girl and a stylish, openly gay African-American guy, and couldn't help but listen in on their conversation.
"Girl, as a man, let me tell you all men are trash. And that's the problem — we love trash. It means we can do cute little DIY projects with them," the man said, folding his arms as he popped one hip. He was wearing a neon pink mesh crop top, leather shorts, and an oversized bejeweled denim jacket. Wearing at least five chokers and fifty bracelets up to his forearms, all the chaos came together to fit his whole character. "But that also means we should identify what's usable trash and throw out what needs to go."
"Ugh, you aren't helping," the girl groaned, looking down at her phone. "He says his favorite game is Rainbow Six Siege and that I should come over and play it with him sometime. That just means he wants to have sex, right?"
I winced. Having a brother who loved gaming, meant I was also exposed to that world. I couldn't help but speak up. "Trust me, if that's his favorite game then you don't want to have sex with him."
They both looked at me in surprise before the guy burst into loud giggles. "Honey, I was just about to say it sounds like something I should be playing." He turned back to the girl, still grinning. "Listen to the pretty girl, Nadia. Haven't we just been debating about his gross behavior at last night's party?" He looked back at me with a scandalized expression. "This asshole got into a fight with another guy because he was looking at her for too long, and then proceeded to disappear with another girl for over an hour. He denies anything happened, but where there's smoke, there's fire — and he's a flaming pile of shit."
Nadia rolled her eyes. "He wasn't that bad. He said he went to help her change her tire."
"For an hour?" He cast skeptical eyes at her, arching one perfectly done eyebrow.
I grinned before relaxing my face into a more solemn gaze and asking her, "What makes you like him so much?"
"He's exactly my type," she said straight-forwardly. "Tall, skinny with a big dick. They're hard to come by."
By now, we were three people away from the bathroom. Laughing, I suggested, "Have you ever tried looking confused on a tennis court?"
Bailey's dad enjoyed tennis, and so she'd use this very tactic on the few occasions she decided to join him. She also preferred tall men with bigger... genitalia.
Nadia winced. "I can't. My mom and dad used to fuck all of the instructors and staff at our tennis club when I was growing up. I can't go back there again — they ruined tennis for me."
I blinked at that. "Wow. Yeah — I get it. Stick to gamers, I guess. Just maybe not that one. Always trust your best friend's intuition and yours is busy telling you to run."
He beamed at me, holding up a hand for me to high-five. "Well said. What's your name, gorgeous?"
"Hannah. It's nice to meet you...?"
"Adrian. And this is the platonic love of my life, Nadia." He pulled her in for a side hug and squeezed her. She just laughed and wrapped her arm around his waist.
We continued to talk until Nadia and I went in to take care of business. And then they invited me to get drinks with them and I couldn't say no. We got our drinks and sat down at a table. I even pulled off my hoodie to reveal the rather low-plunging neckline of my tank top. It was a little too small on me and kept riding up my back, but I ran out of clean washing because I was a little — okay, a lot behind on laundry.
I was sipping on my mojito, back facing the wall with my drink already halfway, when Adrian suddenly asked, "And you? Any man to report on?"
The question prompted a coughing fit as the sweet drink went down the wrong pipe. I covered my mouth as I looked away, trying to get the coughing under control. I waved my hand, face red. Was it coming out of my nose?
"That's the look of a woman who's got a man in her life," She surveyed my red face. "But it's complicated," she added.
I shook my head, clearing my throat. "It's not like that. We're just... friends."
Adrian leaned closer, a wide grin on his lips. "Is he hot?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Looked away. Looked back. Cleared my throat again and opened my mouth — thought about how to describe Tristan in a way that wouldn't make it seem like I was hopelessly in love with him. Thought about it some more. Blushed and looked down at the table.
"My god, just how hot is he? Now I'm really curious. Is he here?" Adrian looked around like he'd be able to spot him amongst the crowds, even though he had no idea who I was talking about.
I paused because I wasn't sure if I wanted them to know that Tristan was the guy I was talking about, but I couldn't see how I could avoid having them meet, not if it was still early in the evening. Speaking of Tristan, I'm certain he had to be wondering where I was right now.
"He is, but to be honest, I'm kind of avoiding him."
This instantly piqued Adrian's curiosity and he turned back to me. "Why?" He narrowed his eyes. "Is he bad news? Do we kinda hate him? Is that it?"
Shaking my head, I said, "Not at all. The opposite in fact."
"We love him?" he whispered, eyes comically wide as he leaned close, super invested now.
I realized what I'd just implied and hastily spoke to clear my mistake. "No, I meant that I like him a little too much." I froze as the words left my lips, finally out in the open. Frowning, I lifted my glass and took two large gulps, finishing it.
I put the glass down and looked back at their inquisitive, waiting faces.
I sighed. Where did I even begin? "So... I have this ex—"
They both immediately nodded, making similar noises of understanding. Nadia raised her drink while Adrian made the sign of the cross over his torso, both earning a small laugh from me. I glanced down at my empty glass. I usually stuck to one glass if I did drink — but that was only because I didn't want to be left in a vulnerable state around Dylan's friends, especially Marcus. He wasn't here now, so one more drink wouldn't hurt.
"Needless to say, he was the worst, but before I continue, I think I'm going to need another drink." I stood up, shimmying out of our nook. "Do you guys want anything?"
"We're good, gorgeous. Kiss the bartender for me, won't you?" He blew me a kiss as he took a delicate sip from his Strawberry Daiquiri.
"Certainly." I stepped away from them, slipping past a dancing couple.
I made my way through the crowded room, occasionally squeezing past people, and quickly scanned my surroundings for the bar. I found it and began making my way there. Waiting for an open spot, I quickly stepped into the space a girl vacated and waited for the bartender's attention.
A few minutes went by as I patiently waited. Finally, the bartender, Vance, made his way over to my side, helping the person next to me first.
"Hey, what can I get for you?" He placed both hands flat on the counter beneath him and leaned closer with a wide, close-mouthed smile.
I see why Adrian told me to kiss the bartender. "Mojito, please."
"On the way." He went to make my drink.
I looked down to get some money, digging through my pockets until I found some bills. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guy sidle up next to me. His shirt told me he belonged to a frat — if the terrible hairstyle didn't already tip me off. Ignoring him, I handed the money over to Vance as he poured the colorful mixture into a glass. He added the finishing touches and slid the glass over to me. I reached for it, but another hand grabbed it before I could. It belonged to the guy next to me.
"Excuse me, that's mine." I frowned, turning to face the unwanted company.
"I'm aware, but I'll only give it back to you if you give me your phone number." He smirked, trying to be charming as he held my drink high above us.
His teeth were too white against his tan face. Up close, I could see the razor burn and patches of unshaven hair scattered on his weak jaw. And then my senses were assaulted by the smell of cheap beer and rancid sweaty armpits. I recoiled in disgust, quickly stepping back in a futile attempt to escape the odor.
Unease swept through me and I steeled myself for the encounter. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested."
My rejection barely perturbed him. "How do you know you're not interested if you haven't given me a chance?"
"I'm just not interested. Now will you please give me the drink that I paid for?"
"If you're not interested, then what are you doing in a place like this?" He scoffed, eyes dropping to my cleavage.
I hated the way his eyes scanned my body — it felt invasive and so fucking gross. I leveled him with my most venomous glare. "Not that it's any of your business, but I don't have to be interested in hooking up to hang out with my friends at a bar."
"Please." He scoffed like he knew better. "Girls like you are just asking for guys to fuck you."
I gaped at him. "Excuse me?"
He better fucking hope I heard wrong.
He had the audacity to laugh at my outrage. "Don't try and act all coy with me. You're young, you're hot and you're in college — there's no way you aren't banging a whole bunch of guys. I'm just asking if I can join the roster. So, what do you say? Wanna get out of here?" He waved my Mojito around, some of it spilling onto the floor and his hand.
"Would you like to know what I'm going to do to you if you don't return my drink and get out of my sight?"
He gave me an amused look, shrugging, "Go ahead and tell me. I'm sure whatever it is, I'll enjoy."
I looked around and saw an empty beer bottle on the bar counter. Reaching over, I grabbed it around the neck, lifting it to wave in front of his nose.
"See this bottle? I'm going to break it over your head and stab you in the dick with it. Over and over again. And then I'll spit on you as you slowly bleed out on the floor. Does that sound like fun to you?" I stepped closer, tapping his cheek with the butt of the bottle.
Seeing the anger in my eyes, he laughed, stepping back and trying to play it cool. "Calm your tits, Lady. No way you'll—"
"Yeah, she would."