Hate to Love You - Chapter 45: Chapter 45

Tristan
T: Hey, where did you disappear to?
T: Hannah?
I frowned at the lack of responses from her. It had been several hours since I'd last seen her, and a strange unease settled in my chest. I missed her. No — I was worried. What if something had happened to her? I hadn't heard from Bailey either, which probably meant they were together, but that didn't ease the knot of frustration growing inside me.
With a sigh, I pocketed my phone, scanning the area one last time. But it was pointless. They were nowhere in sight, and I had no idea where to start looking.
As I'd spent the rest of the day with my team and fans, joining in various activities, my eyes kept wandering — searching for her in the crowd. But she was noticeably absent. She'd been MIA since this morning, after that awkward moment between us, followed by her crazy roommate jumping me out of nowhere. I was worried she'd left because of that.
"You okay, Beckett?" Tate's voice rang out beside me.
I turned to him, lifting an eyebrow. "Yeah? Why?"
"You seem a little distracted." His eyes scanned me, seeing a lot more than he let on. "Is it Hoodie-Girl? I haven't seen her since this morning. Everything cool between you two?"
"I think so." I frowned, thinking more on it.
Was it? I thought so, but what the fuck did I know? Sometimes it was really hard to tell what was going on inside that pretty little head of hers. While she wasn't shy about giving her opinion, I got the impression she was holding back.
Maybe I'd made a mistake in assuming she'd eventually share her thoughts at her own pace. I didn't want to pressure her into discussing things she found difficult to talk about. Hell, I understood the need to keep some things to yourself, so I let us skirt around any serious topics. I thought we were having fun.
Fuck. What if it was my 'future date night' comment? It had just slipped out because, with her, everything felt so easy, so natural. But thinking back to that flicker of panic in her eyes... maybe I hit a nerve without even realizing it. Running my hand through my hair, I gripped the damp strands tightly, battling the guilt that gnawed at me.
Or maybe she was pissed because of her crazy roommate? But she had to see me push the woman away almost immediately, right? I'd tried to temper my reaction, keeping my face as blank as possible when she touched me, but I couldn't completely hide the disgust and anger surging within me. I plucked her off me like an annoying tick and deposited her in front of me, keeping my voice short and sharp as I told her I would sue her for sexual harassment if she ever did that again. I must have gotten the message across because the girl actually ran out of there, followed by her mousy roommate, who had her phone out — presumably to take a picture of us. I was going to be fucking furious if they showed that to Hannah, but just in case, I'd make sure to explain myself as soon as I saw her.
What pissed me off even more was how often this happened, particularly from hands-on people, who approached me without warning or permission; like it was their right to touch me. It wasn't even rare at this point. But given my position, I couldn't exactly object. As captain, my team depended on me to lead us to the Championship — there was no room for causing a scene or letting anything, or anyone, become a distraction that could take my head out of the game.
I'd learned how to stay quiet — I'd done it before, back when my body didn't feel like my own but like it belonged to everyone around me. I let people touch me, forced myself to relax under their hands, faked a smile even as I wanted to tear them off me.
Eventually, I became numb to it, convincing myself it didn't bother me anymore. That what had happened in the past was over, and I didn't need to let it affect me. I told myself I was fine.
In some ways, Hannah helped me. Maybe because I'd promised her exclusivity or maybe because she was the only person I actually wanted to touch, but I was a lot better at setting boundaries these days. I knew it bothered her, seeing so many women constantly throwing themselves at me, so I made it a point to avoid their advances. I kept my game face on, staying friendly and joking with everyone, but I never gave anyone a reason to think I was interested.
But that brunette had caught me off guard. Amidst the crowd's chaos, I hadn't even noticed her until she was clinging to me, her arms tight around my neck and her glossy lips pressed against mine. In the split second before I could react, her tongue had touched me. And all I'd been able to feel was revulsion, and an intense urge to shove her away, even if I hurt her in the process.
I became aware of Tate's gaze fixed on me and cleared my throat, taking a moment to pull myself back to the present.
"I have no idea what the fuck is going on, but hey." I grinned. "When do I ever?"
He chuckled, shaking his head at me. "There's something loose in that big head of yours."
"Well, I am a football playe—" I was interrupted by the ringing of my phone.
Thinking it was Hannah, I quickly retrieved it from my back pocket and glanced at the screen. Seeing the name on display, I frowned.
"Who is it? Hoodie-Girl?" Tate asked.
"No," I drawled. "It's my dad."
He was never the one who phoned me — it was always my mom. She'd update me on their and my sibling's lives, and then she'd put him on the phone so that he could grunt out a couple of lame attempts at questions. I'd use those painful minutes to jerk his chain as much as possible — sometimes drawing a reluctant chuckle from him. It usually ended with my mom taking back the phone and saying that I was going to give him a heart attack one day. My point is — he never called me.
"Give me a second, yeah?" I said to Tate before walking a few paces away to a quieter spot. A couple of people waved, but seeing the ringing phone in my hand, they didn't stop me.
"Dad? Is Ma okay?" I asked immediately, bringing the phone to my ear.
"Your mother is fine. I'm not calling because someone is hurt," he answered, a hint of a southern twang in his deep voice.
"Ah, that's good. Did I miss Father's Day and this is you calling me to ream my ass out? At least tell me Caleb and Megs got the same treatment." I laughed, knowing full well I was probably the only one among my siblings prone to forgetting these things.
Megan would be the first one to send a message, and Caleb's PA would remind him. I still needed my mother to remind me.
He let out an annoyed growl, further increasing my grin. "I'm calling 'cause your ma mentioned that football festival thing happening right now. You're there, ain't you?"
"Of course I am, Dad. It's tradition and I'm their Captain. Skipping was never an option." My tone left no room for argument.
"Didn't mean you shouldn't be there. I'm calling to warn you to stay sharp — and responsible. I know you might be tempted to let loose this weekend, but let me remind you that any slip can push you further away from your goals, especially right now. No drinking and junk food. You need to stay on top of your game — and that means keeping your head clear. Things can happen in places like that; things that could ruin your life and career. Don't repeat my mistakes."
Fuck. Leave it to my dad to give me a harsh reality check. The grin on my face faded and my jaw set into a tight clench as he continued.
"I was speaking to Coach Morey today — he was telling me about all of the scouts showing up at your games; folks from Kansas city, Tennesee, Vegas... Media's picked up on you and your stats, and that's got the football world talking about you. Your invitation to the NFL Scouting Combine should arrive any day now. Things are looking bright for your future. I don't want you to throw that all away."
I never lost sight of my dreams, yet he was right; my concentration wasn't what it should be, especially this weekend. My mind flashed to yesterday when I'd forgotten the condom, and my throat went dry. I wouldn't be telling my dad about that because he'd give me the lecture of a lifetime, yet he hit the nail on the head. I'd narrowly escaped a major mistake this weekend.
"I hear you, Dad," I replied. "And I get what you're saying, but I'm fine. I'm just having some fun with the fans and teammates. It fosters team unity and strengthens our connection with our supporters. I can balance fun and responsibility; I have to — I set the standard."
"Good man," he said, a hint of approval in his tone. "And remember, it's okay to have your fun with girls, but as long as it stays just that. We need to keep your head in the game, son. That means no distractions. And always use protection."
Right. No mistakes, no losing control, and no distractions. I had an almost impossible goal, and that required sacrifices. Girlfriends were for after I'd established myself.
And these days my mind was on football less and less.
That was the cold, hard truth. Would my performance start to suffer because of it? And if so, would that cost me my dream? Did I want to take that risk? No.
Pushing those thoughts away, I joked, "Am I about to get the birds and the bees talk? Because I hate to break it to you, Dad, but that ship sailed a long time ago."
He just sighed. "Your mother says she loves you and she'll call you on Monday. She also says that you need to call your sister and wish your niece a happy birthday. It's next week Sunday."
"Got it. Thanks, Dad. I'll see you at my next game?"
"We'll be there."
With that, he hung up. Long after the call ended, I stared at the black screen, letting my dad's words sink in. It was a wake-up call — one I needed to heed before I messed everything up. Each moment I spent with Hannah, every time I was inside her, I could feel myself letting go of the reins that I used to keep myself in tight-lock. I was closer than ever to making a mistake.
But I was also too selfish to let her go, not when I could have her all to myself for the time being. I just had to dial things back in the meantime. No more hanging out in the library together, and fewer sleepovers. We needed to treat this a little more impersonally.
The very thought of pulling back from her made me want to hit something, but I knew it needed to be done.
°•°•°•°
Hannah
After using the bathroom and washing my face, I returned to find Bailey engaged in a cheerful conversation with a barista, sipping on her coffee at the small coffee booth. As I closed in, a familiar blonde figure rushed past, intentionally avoiding eye contact and keeping her gaze lowered. Reacting quickly, I stopped, reaching out and grabbing her wrist before she could slip past me.
"Penelope?" I said, tilting my head to look at her face.
A flicker of panic tinted her brown eyes and she pulled at her wrist, yanking it out of my grasp. "H-Hannah. I didn't see you there."
Like hell she didn't.
"Where's Amanda?" I asked, looking around for the person whose side she never left.
I considered Penelope to be one of Amanda's accessories, rather than a valued friend. Amanda was domineering, throwing tantrums whenever things didn't go her way, and Penelope let her treat her like a personal servant. I couldn't understand why she put up with it. I might have felt sorry for her if she weren't such a bitch to me.
Penelope wasn't great with confrontation, but she excelled at talking behind your back — the only time she had any confidence or bravado. I'd found out a couple of weeks into living in our house that Amanda and Penelope had spread nasty rumors about my personality, as well as several untruths — like how I liked to sleep with girls' boyfriends. I don't know where she got that one, but it took a long time for those rumors to die out.
"She's with our other friends. I was just going to the b-bathroom," she stuttered, looking ready to bolt at any second.
Too bad for her, I had a couple of things to say. Since I hadn't managed to find Amanda, I decided to use Penelope to convey my message. I had to say something about what happened earlier because Bailey was right — it was not okay.
"Can I speak to you?" I asked, my tone leaving no room for disagreement.
"I-I really need to go." Her eyes darted behind me.
"It'll only take a couple of seconds," I insisted, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "I just need you to pass on a message to Amanda. Nothing too complicated."
"A message? Oh." She blinked in surprise, finally looking at me as her whole body relaxed. "O-okay."
"Great." My smile dropped. "I need you to tell Amanda that her attempts to antagonize me are childish. I've ignored them up until now because I find her pathetic and immature. I know this little stunt with Tristan was meant to get under my skin, but all it did was make her look even more desperate — not a great look for her. She needs to stop all of this before she goes too far. "
Penelope stared up at me with wide eyes, taking in my words. And then, surprisingly, a glint of anger passed through her gaze, though she tried to keep it hidden as she looked up at me. I expected her to agree, and then hurry along with her tail between her legs. Instead, she said:
"You don't know anything about Amanda."
I regarded her new behavior with curiosity before saying, "I know she hates me. I know she enjoys making my life miserable. And I know that if either of us were runner-up for Biggest Bitch, she'd win."
Penelope glared at me. "You don't understand what she's been through. You act like you're better than everyone else. Just look at how many friends she has compared to you. People tolerate you; they actually like her."
I folded my arms, hating that her words got to me. "If she has so many friends, then why is she so obsessed with me? Is she jealous of me or what? I don't know what I did to deserve her hatred, but if she has something to say, she can say it to my face. I don't care what Amanda's been through; it's not an excuse for her behavior. Let's leave the high school antics in high school and grow up."
"Amanda has no reason to be jealous of you," she hissed. "She's better in every way — prettier, more liked, and way out of your league. You have nothing on her."
"Really? Then please tell her highness to leave me the hell alone, and I'll do the same. And tell her I'll be leaving soon anyway, so she'll never have to lay eyes on ugly ol' me again."
Her expression brightened at this news. "You're leaving? When?"
Annoyed, I just shook my head at her. Even if I knew where I was going, I wouldn't tell her. I hadn't made a decision about my internship yet, burying it under piles of paperwork on my desk while avoiding the growing pressure to choose. This whole situation with Tristan made it easier to put off decisions that would shape my future.
"Just relay my message to her. Everything else is none of your business." I stepped aside, dismissing her. Without saying another word to her, I turned around and walked back to the coffee stand, rejoining Bailey. She graced me with a pretty smile as she handed over a cup of coffee.
"Was that Penelope I saw you talking to?" she asked, eyes flickering to where we'd been.
"Yup. I left her with a message for Amanda. It saves a trip I'd have to make — and I don't really feel like seeing her face. It gives me indigestion." I reached for one of the burgers sitting in front of us, bringing it to my mouth and taking a huge bite.
Bailey laughed, taking a bite of her own burger. We stayed for a while, eating our food and conversing with the funny barista. He was telling us about the intricacies of coffee-making when a screech startled all three of us.
"You fucking hypocrite! I'm the pathetic, jealous one!?"
All three of us turned to face the furious brunette marching toward us — a shy, flustered blonde trailing closely behind her, clutching Amanda's arm as if to stop her, but she was no match for Amanda's furious strength.
Stopping directly in front of our table, Amanda wore a body-hugging white jumpsuit, her sleek high ponytail swaying wildly as she glared at me with venomous dark blue eyes. My frown deepened as I stood up to meet her gaze.
"Nice of you to drop by," I shot back sharply. "I take it you got my message? I was hoping to put this off, but you're here now. So let's get this over with. What did I do to deserve all of this?"
"Stop playing innocent," she seethed, her teeth bared like a snarling dog. "We both know what you did."
"Do we?" I replied sarcastically. "My bad. Care to give me the SparkNotes version for a quick refresher? Because I have no fucking clue what you're talking about. What did I do? Breathe?"
"You slept with Bryson! You slept with my boyfriend!"