Hate to Love You - Chapter 34: Chapter 34

Hannah
H: I know this is such a girly question, but what should I wear to the game? When I was there last time, everyone was dressed up in team colors and merch. I don't have anything like that.
T: Wear nothing.
T: On the other hand, if you wore nothing, I'd lose because I'd be too busy staring at you the whole time, so maybe not a good idea.
H: Right, because I was seriously considering doing that.
T: I'm sensing sarcasm.
T: Don't worry too much, what you wore last time was fine. If you want to show some support, maybe you could wear a low-cut top and paint my number on your tits? I feel like seeing that would really motivate me.
H: My brother's going to be there, remember? There's no way I'm wearing anything less than PG. And you already know what they look like.
T: Not with my number on them, I don't. I feel like they would look so pretty.
H: I'm sure you'll survive.
With a smile, I tucked my phone back into my pocket and continued walking down the path to our morning class. I'd taken the long way on purpose today, hoping to avoid the chaos spreading across campus. This whole week had been insane, filled with pep rallies, parades and other events — all in preparation for the homecoming game today. Right now, students were walking around with megaphones, mics, and cameras, interviewing others and creating mobs of excited fans who all chanted and cheered together. Considering that I now had close ties to Tristan, I was a prime candidate for these interviews.
So, I pulled up my hood and took the scenic route, passing through our college's south gardens. There were a couple of pathways I could take, hidden by all the trees and foliage meticulously taken care of by the groundsmen. The stone benches in the private nooks made it a popular spot for couples.
That's why I was surprised to find a girl sitting alone under one of the trees, her shoulders shaking as she silently cried.
"Beth?" I slowed my steps, recognizing her immediately.
She didn't hear me. She just kept staring into the distance, tears streaming down her face, lost in her own world. A few students passed by, laughing and oblivious, their voices fading as I considered what to do. I couldn't just leave her in this state, alone. Not when she looked even worse than she had the last time I'd seen her in the bathroom. She had somehow managed to lose even more weight and her cheeks looked sunken in.
My conscience wouldn't let me walk away.
Taking a deep breath, I walked over, making sure to approach slowly. "Beth?" I tried again, softer this time.
This time she snapped out of her daze, spinning her head in my direction. She blinked up at me, red eyes swollen from crying. For a second, I wasn't sure she recognized me, but then a flicker of recognition crossed her tear-streaked face. "Hannah," she breathed by name with surprise, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve. "What are you doing here?"
"I was on my way to class and I recognized you," I said, trying not to stare too hard at her obvious distress. "Is something wrong?"
She sniffled, shaking her head quickly, waving me off. "No. I'm alright." She coughed, covering her mouth. "Just not feeling well."
I could tell she didn't want me to worry about her, but I also knew she was lying. Her face was gaunt, and her eyes were bloodshot. Glancing at my phone, I saw I still had about twenty minutes before my Health Psych class. Tristan probably wasn't even there yet. I sighed, knowing I couldn't just leave her like this.
Sitting next to her on the stone bench, I curled my fingers around the seat's edge and regarded her with a soft expression. "You're still sick?"
At my question, her face crumpled, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She looked down at her lap, her hands trembling before she clenched them together. I saw the wet drops falling from her eyes, soaking into her pants, and my heart sank. Did that mean she was really sick?
After a while, she choked out, "Not really, I'm just..." but the words caught in her throat and she shook her head.
I hesitated, but then placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to offer some kind of comfort. "Did something happen with your boyfriend?"
Sniffling again, she gave me a small nod.
"Did he hurt you?" I asked, my voice tight.
"No," she mumbled, shaking her head vehemently. "I'm the one who made a mistake. It's my fault he's angry with me and doesn't want to see me. I'm the one who hurt him."
I frowned. Beth was small, fragile even, and I couldn't imagine what she could have done to hurt someone so badly that they'd shut her out like this. I suppose I shouldn't underestimate those I didn't truly know. "And it's something he can't forgive you for?" I asked, trying to understand.
She wiped her face again. "I'm sure he would — if he just let me explain. If he would let me apologize for what I did, I know he'd forgive me. But he won't talk to me. He won't even tell me where he's staying now."
I frowned. "Weren't you living with him? Did he leave?"
Her silence was deafening, her body stiffening as she stared down at her lap. She appeared to be unwilling to get into it. I realized I was probing. If she wasn't willing to talk about it, then I didn't want to push.
So I quickly backtracked. "You don't have to tell me anything," I said, my tone gentle. "If you want me to leave, I will. But if you want me to stay, I can do that too. I'll stay here, or we can talk, or... I can just sit quietly with you. Whatever you need."
Her head lifted slowly, and she blinked at me, a mix of surprise and confusion in her gaze. "You're a lot nicer than I thought you'd be," she murmured softly. "Not many people would stop and help someone they barely know."
I tilted my head, unsure how to respond to that. It was a nice thing for her to say, but it also wasn't exactly a compliment. Did I really come off as that much of a bitch?
"I... thank you?" I bit my bottom lip as I turned my head to watch the people passing by. We drifted into silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable — at least not for me. Beth wasn't crying anymore, which felt like a small victory, and she hadn't asked me to leave. It was clear now that she just needed someone to be here with her and offer quiet support. I could give her that, even if it wasn't much. Sometimes that was all someone needed — someone to sit with them in their pain and remind them they weren't alone.
Around us, the chirping of birds mingled with the distant hum of student chatter, occasionally interrupted by a burst of laughter or the shout of someone calling a friend. The leaves rustled above, the branches swaying gently in the breeze. It was actually a nice day, all things considered — a perfect one for the homecoming game. All signs that today's game would go well, but I wasn't worried; I had full confidence in Tristan's abilities.
Suddenly, Beth's quiet voice broke through my thoughts. "I wish I could be more like you."
The words hung in the air between us, catching me off guard. I turned my attention back to her, frowning in confusion. "Why would you want to be like me?" I asked, genuinely puzzled. The idea of anyone wanting that felt like a joke, and yet, I didn't think she was joking.
"Because then he'd want me."
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. I closed it again, uncertain how to handle the weight of her sadness. Finally, I found my voice. "Can I be honest?" I asked, glancing at her.
When she nodded, I continued, "Maybe you're better off without this guy. I mean, you're young, you have so many people to meet. And, he sounds like a piece of... work. You should look at this as a chance to move on, find someone who makes you happy, or just enjoy being single for a while. Nothing shameful about that."
But Beth shook her head, rejecting my words as if they were poison. "No, you don't understand," she said, her voice hardening with determination. "I went through so many terrible things, and he was always there for me — he saved me. I need him, so it's only right that I make amends and get rid of whatever's standing in our way. You understand, right?" Her eyes met mine, wide and pleading, desperate for some validation.
I didn't understand, but it also didn't seem like I'd get anywhere by disagreeing with her. "Sure," I answered quietly. "It's good to take accountability for our mistakes. Not everyone can do that." God knows I struggled with it sometimes. "Whatever it is, I'm sure he'll forgive you. I mean, it's not like you killed anyone, right?" I laughed awkwardly, hoping to lighten the mood.
But instead, her face fell, and a distant, heartbroken look crossed her eyes.
I realized I might have unintentionally dredged up painful memories. How many times was I going to shoot myself in the foot before I learned my lesson?
I went to apologize but my phone started ringing, interrupting us. I knew without checking that it was Tristan, probably wondering where I was.
"I should get going," I said reluctantly, glancing at the screen. "I've got class soon, but... if you ever need to talk, I'm around. Do you want my number?" It felt like the right thing to offer.
She looked unsure, and replied, "I... can't. I don't have a phone right now because it broke. But I'm sure we'll see each other around."
"Okay." I stood up. "I guess I'll see you around, Beth."
"Definitely. It's always nice talking to you, Hannah." She gave me a small parting smile.
I managed a weak smile before turning to leave, my mind still swirling from our conversation. As I walked away, I stole a glance over my shoulder. Beth was still sitting there, her intense brown eyes fixed on me. When she saw me look back, she waved. I waved back and quickened my pace, determined not to be too late for class, or Professor Haynes was going to make an example of me.
°•°•°•°
Jason and his best friend, Parker, were easy to spot by the entrance, both standing taller than most of the crowd. When I'd invited him to the game, he'd eagerly agreed, but only if he could bring Parker along this time. Parker offered to pay for his own ticket, but Tristan was happy to supply him with an extra one. They were both over the moon at the chance to see Tristan play, and had made me promise to help them get his autograph. I couldn't say no to their excitement, and I knew Tristan wouldn't mind either. I also liked the idea of Jason having a football buddy — it meant they could geek out about the game together while I focused on the important things, like food.
"Hey, Bean Stalk," I greeted my brother, punching his arm.
He shot me an irritated glare, rubbing the spot. "Stop doing that. And don't call me that."
"I can do whatever I want. I'm the one who got you here, remember?" I shot back smugly and then turned to Parker.
It had been three years since I'd last seen Parker, and he'd changed a lot. Just like Jason, he'd grown taller, but Parker was broader, with his dark skin and sharp jawline giving him a mature, distinguished appearance. Poor Jace couldn't grow facial hair even if he slapped fertilizer on his jaw. Parker and Jace had always been into football together, and they both played on their high school team.
"Hey, Parker. Long time no see. You're not a pipsqueak anymore!" I cheered, punching his arm this time.
He laughed softly, blushing, and said, "Hey, Hannah. You look good."
"I am great." I beamed. "Let's go find our seats before it gets chaotic. I've got it on good authority that delicious food is headed our way soon."
The three of us weaved through the rapidly filling football stadium. While there were a few supporters of the opposing team, the majority of the crowd were die-hard Knights fans. I followed behind the boys as we slowly made our way to our seats, which were situated in a prime spot for a close-up view of all the action on the field. At the moment, only medics, security personnel, and other staff were bustling around the field, preparing for the game.
The atmosphere here at home was different from Boulder. People were more relaxed but just as excited. There was a sense of assurance and confidence, as if winning was already a foregone conclusion.
I sat down next to Jason and Parker, impatiently waiting for the food and, of course, Tristan. Just before the game started, a staff member appeared with a massive platter of chicken wings, fries, hotdogs, and steak bites. The smell was mouthwatering, and I couldn't help but do a little happy dance as I took my first few bites. Jace and Parker dove in just as eagerly, helping themselves to huge servings until I had to start slapping hands away to stop the food from disappearing too quickly.
The mascot entered onto the field wearing a full suit of armor while riding an actual horse. Even the sword looked real as he pointed it at the opposing team. Cheerleaders and the band added to the excitement with their performances behind him.
The stadium went alive with the roars of thousands of fans as the players, led by Tristan, ran out. Now that I knew Tristan was number 13, it was easy to keep an eye on him. And hard to take my eyes off him. Even in his padded uniform, my eyes devoured his powerful body, and it irritated me to think that thousands of other women in the stands were likely doing the exact same thing.
The pre-game rituals flew by, and when the whistle cut through the air, the players exploded into action. As predicted, our team came out strong, quickly taking the lead. The Knights racked up multiple touchdowns and field goals, widening the score until it became clear that the other team had no chance.
The entire stadium was filled with singing, screaming, and cheering at every point scored. Even I found myself glued to the game, probably because I now had a personal connection to the captain of our team. Tristan's helmet and the stadium lighting made it hard to be certain, but I thought I caught him glancing my way a few times during the quieter moments of the game. I waved just in case.
When the final touchdown was made in the last seconds of the game, the crowd exploded. Everyone jumped to their feet, screaming in shared triumph. While I didn't jump up and down like Jace and Parker, who were practically losing their minds, I couldn't stop grinning. I couldn't help but feel so proud of Tristan. This time, the crowd swarmed the field in a frenzy, racing toward the players. I held back, not wanting to get caught in the stampede, but Jace and Parker ran ahead, happy to be part of the chaos.
I lost them in the crowds, so I headed to the front entrance to wait. Pulling out my phone, I saw two unread messages. One from my mom, checking in to make sure Jace was okay, and another from Tristan, sent just before the game.
T: Coach wants me to meet some people after, so I'll probably be a while. You okay waiting for me, or are you gonna head home?
H: I can wait. Jace and his friend will probably stick with me to meet you.
I wasn't expecting a response anytime soon, so I texted my mom back to let her know everything was fine, then shot Jace a quick update on where I was. I leaned against a nearby railing, people-watching as I waited. A few curious glances came my way, and I even got a couple of winks from passing guys, but one sharp scowl quickly stopped them from approaching.
Twenty minutes went by, the crowd slowly thinning as people left for home or after-parties. Finally, I spotted Jace and Parker making their way toward me. I waved, and they hurried over.
"Check this out, Han. I got Tatum Mitchell and a bunch of other players to sign my shirt." Jace turned, proudly showing off the mess of signatures scrawled across his light blue tee.
"Looks cool, but mom's gonna kill you."
"Totally worth it. Parker got Alex McGraw to sign his boxers, right over his ass. It was awesome. Show her, dude."
"I'm good. I don't need to see it." I held up a hand to curb any undressing.
"Heard anything from Tristan? We missed him on the field," Jace asked, craning his neck to search the crowd.
"Uh, let me check." I pulled out my phone just as Tristan's reply came through, almost as if Jace's question had manifested it.
T: Great. Just a little longer and I'll be out. There are some scouts from Tennessee and Vegas visiting.
H: That's good, right? Sounds big.
T: It's really good. Talk later.
"He's meeting with some important people, but he'll be out soon," I relayed, slipping my phone back into my pocket.
"So, ah, are you guys together now, or...?" Jace asked, his tone casual, though the question made me shift uncomfortably. I hated lying to my brother.
"We're just friends. Neither of us has the time or interest in a relationship, so we agreed to keep it that way."
"So you're single?" Parker grinned.
I gave him the stink eye. "And too old for you. Didn't I bully you enough to put you off any romantic thoughts towards me?"
He chuckled. "If anything, it made me like you more."
Jace gave him a light smack upside the head. "Stop hitting on my sister, dude. That's disgusting."
"Just tryna be your brother-in-law. Don't you wanna be family?"
I rolled my eyes, tuning out their bickering. A few minutes later, Tristan sent me a message saying he was on his way. An idea popped into my head. I dug through my bag until I found what I was looking for — dark red lipstick. I uncapped it and twisted the tube until the deep crimson color was exposed.
Tapping Jace on the shoulder, I said, "Write #13 on both of my cheeks. Quickly. And if you draw anything stupid, like a dick, I swear I'll kick you in the nuts."
"Fine," he muttered, taking the lipstick and doing as I said.
I double-checked to make sure the lipstick message was okay with my phone's camera, and smiled in satisfaction. Tristan would get a kick out of seeing it.
Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around my waist from behind, startling me. My instinct was to throw an elbow, but that familiar, intoxicating scent hit me first. I turned, glaring at him.
"You know I don't like it when you sneak up on me."
His hair was wet, and he smelled clean. He was now dressed in a pair of dark pants and a green bomber jacket that accentuated the green in his eyes, looking hot enough to eat.
"That's why I do it." His smirk deepened as his gaze dropped to my cheeks. "Those weren't there earlier," he noted. "Cute, though. They'd look even better somewhere else," he added with a teasing glint in his eyes.
So he had seen me from the field. A warm, fuzzy feeling stirred in my lower belly, and I instantly dismissed the feeling. I did not need him to stir up any more of those emotions. Before I could respond, my brother's voice cut in, having noticed Tristan's arrival. Parker, on the other hand, just stared, apparently too star-struck to say much.
"Hey, Tristan! Great game out there. You guys crushed it!"
Tristan spent the next few minutes answering the boys' questions and signing their clothes. Jace was grinning so widely it almost seemed like his face might split, while Parker tried to maintain his cool but clearly had a hard time keeping his excitement in check. I couldn't understand half of the things they were saying, so I waited patiently for them to finish.
When the boys finally decided to head out, it was getting late and Parker had a long drive ahead of him. I hugged them goodbye, and Tristan gave them a friendly pat on the back, sharing a few parting words that had them laughing. Just as we were about to leave, one of Tristan's friends called him over. Tristan muttered something under his breath, then rummaged through the front pocket of his bag. The jingle of car keys sounded as he pulled them out.
"Did you come with your car?" he asked, handing me the keys.
"No," I replied, taking them from him.
"Great. My car's parked in front of the William Jackson Palmer statue — you can't miss it. Go on ahead without me and I'll be there in a few minutes. Let me just talk to those guys over there." He paused, eyes darkening as they fell on my lips. "It would probably be a bad idea if I kissed you here, right?"
"Right. You can kiss me in the car."
"Looking forward to it." He gave me a sneaky pat on the ass before heading over to join the group that had called him. They surrounded him, offering congratulations.
The girls in the group were particularly attentive, but Tristan just brushed off their advances and attempts to engage him. I told myself to focus on getting to his car and forced myself to look away, heading towards the parking lot.
I was the one he was going home with, after all.