Hate to Love You - Chapter 46: Chapter 46

Hannah
Who?
Bryson? I'd slept with some guy named Bryson?
What the fuck was she saying?
"Amanda, I don't think this is a good idea. Let's go back, please," Penelope pleaded, attempting to pull Amanda away from me.
She had obviously rushed back to her boss like a good little puppet to relay my message. I had to admit, though, I hadn't expected Amanda to confront me in person. Despite the long-standing animosity between us, we had never had an outright fight. Jenny, the peacemaker, always stepped in before things could escalate.
Confused, I blinked at her. "I literally have no idea what you're saying right now. Who's Bryson?"
"My ex-boyfriend, Bryson!" she screeched, stepping closer to me.
"No fucking shit," I growled. "I have no clue who Bryson is — whether you dated him or not. And I certainly didn't have sex with him."
Had she really been treating me like garbage all because of this? This was it? This was the fucking reason? Because she thought I'd slept with this random man? You've got to be kidding me.
"Yes, you did! He told me everything, so you can stop playing dumb." Her voice was rising and drawing the attention of those nearby.
Crossing my arms, I just stared at her. I genuinely didn't know how to reply to anything she was saying; I was just confused and annoyed. Looking to my best friend for guidance, I found her sipping on her coffee, observing us with an amused twinkle in her eye. The subtle curve of her mouth signaled that I was on my own — she wanted to see how this all played out.
I shot her an unimpressed scowl. The barista, caught in the middle of our standoff, stared at us with wide, enraptured eyes. A few nearby patrons had also begun to notice the escalating tension, attempting to observe us without being too obvious.
I sighed, resigning myself to this ridiculous situation. "Can you at least tell me who this guy is before you accuse me of sleeping with him?"
She only seemed to get more mad at my words, her pretty face flushing bright red, but thankfully, she provided me with some much-needed details. "Bryson Pendergast — he was a senior who played on the football team last year. I introduced you two the day you moved in."
No wonder I was struggling to remember him. Those days had blurred together as I fought to pull myself from a deep, dark hole. Every day had been an internal battle as I'd forced myself to go to class, to eat, to do anything but wallow in darkness. If you'd asked me anything about that time, all I could tell you was what it felt like to be drowning outside of water. But still, I wasn't so lost that I wouldn't remember sleeping with some random guy.
"Okay... what did he look like? Did he have any defining features?" I raised a brow, unimpressed. At this point, I was humoring her stupidity.
Bailey suppressed a snicker, disguising it with another sip of her coffee. In contrast, Penelope stood frozen beside Amanda, her complexion draining with every passing moment.
Amanda shot me a withering glare. "Do you think this is a joke?"
"No," I said, narrowing my eyes at her. "Can't you see I'm just trying to understand what the hell you're talking about?"
"Fine," she spat out. "Let's play dumb for a moment. Bryson Pendergast was last year's Tight End on the Knights. Curly blonde hair, called everyone 'Mate.' Popular, well-liked. And he was mine."
I shook my head, still lost. "Sorry, I'm going to need more than that."
She let out an exasperated growl. "He clogged our toilet last year by taking a giant shit in it. Remember? It flooded the downstairs bathroom."
Recognition slowly dawned, and a vague image of a forgotten man began to form in my mind's eye. Only one man had taken a shit large enough to destroy our toilet. Literally. Bryson's protein-heavy, fiber-filled creation had been like trying to flush a jumbo-sized burrito down a drinking straw. It was so bad that he flooded our bathroom and we had to hire a cleaning company to get that stench out. Yeah, I remembered him. But all I could remember was what he did, not what he looked like.
"And you think I had sex with him?" I looked at her like she was insane.
"You're not about to convince me that what I saw wasn't real." She stepped closer, her face mere inches from mine, pure malice radiating from her gaze. "I watched you kiss him in his car at Moxie's. I saw you both drive off together that night. I saw you... so stop lying."
Now I was seriously confused. The conviction in her voice made me question whether I was the one lying — maybe I had actually kissed some guy named Bryson in his car and had somehow forgotten. No, no way. She had to be mistaken.
"You saw... me? Are you sure?" I asked, trying to maintain my composure as her fury visibly intensified, her forehead vein throbbing.
"I'd recognize your blonde hair from anywhere. And he confessed when I confronted him about it the next day."
"He confessed that he had sex with... me?" I frowned, bewildered as to why he would say such a thing. As far as I could recall, I might have exchanged a couple of polite words with him when we were introduced — nothing more.
"Yes," she bristled, "′Your roommate — the blonde bitch who hates you'. Fits you to a T, doesn't it?"
I stared at her for several long seconds before my gaze shifted to Penelope, who looked back at me in sheer panic, her face drained of color and her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She certainly had some internal work to do. Why else was she best friends with someone she hated?
Mystery solved, I guess. But it seemed like Amanda was just too dumb to figure it out. I certainly wasn't going to enlighten her.
"Then you need to get your eyes checked," I simply stated, turning around and promptly dismissing her.
Bailey's eyes held a knowing, amused glint, indicating she had also figured out what really happened. Like me, she chose to stay silent, only offering me a sweet, conspiratorial smile.
"We should head back now. I've had enough of this," I told Bailey, grabbing my coffee and downing the last of it. As I moved to set the glass down, Amanda grabbed my arm, spinning me around so abruptly that the cup slipped from my fingers and shattered at our feet.
Neither of us paid it any mind, our attention locked on each other as angry tension crackled between us. Penelope, standing off to the side, looked like she wanted to disappear. Bailey calmly placed her drink down and rose to stand behind me, her silent presence offering backup if needed.
"Take your hand off me," I warned, my voice cold and calm.
"Then stop ignoring me!" she snapped, releasing her grip but staying way too close, refusing to back down. "You don't get to act like this. Not after everything you've done."
"Act like what?"
"Like you always do! You're always looking at everyone like they're beneath you, like you're some tortured victim and everyone has to walk on eggshells around you. It's always 'poor Hannah', or 'she's nicer than you think', but that's because they don't see you for what you really are." Angry tears filled her eyes. "But I do. You're just some skank who got lucky and got more than she deserves. And right now, you're just whoring yourself to the local bigshot. If Tristan Beckett knew what you were really like, he'd drop you in a heartbeat." I could feel her breath on my face as she crowded me, and suddenly, it felt like she was everywhere.
Before I could even register what I was doing, my hand flew up, connecting and cracking across Amanda's cheek in a sharp slap that echoed through the air. I hit her so hard that her cheek turned white before an angry handprint bloomed on her skin. The force sent her stumbling backward, and if it weren't for Penelope catching her, she might have fallen.
"Shit, Hannah!" Bailey gasped, stepping closer to hold me back in case I did anything else.
Amanda and Penelope both gave me shocked, gaping expressions as they processed what had just happened. Even onlookers were taken aback, a few stepping forward, ready to intervene in case of a potential fight.
Horror clouded me as I realized what I'd just done. "I-I didn't mean... " I stammered, shaking my head and stepping away from Amanda in shame, feeling my back collide with Bailey.
With Penelope's assistance, Amanda regained her footing, her gaze piercing mine with a mixture of deep-seated loathing and an unbearable smugness. "See? This is who you really are. If you think I'm letting you get away with this, you're wrong. I'm going to enjoy pressing charges."
Her words sliced through me, my heart sinking as the reality of what I'd done hit home. I'd snapped and let her get under my skin, and now I was facing consequences that could spiral out of control.
Bailey, however, wasn't having any of it. She stepped forward, leveling Amanda with a cold, cutting glare. "Have you ever used your brain, Amanda? Even once?" she said, her voice sharp. "In case you haven't noticed, Hannah isn't the only blonde in your house. And trust me, she was in no condition to seduce your shitty boyfriend back then — she was too busy dealing with her own shitty ex."
Amanda's frown deepened as Penelope blanched behind her. Ignoring their reactions, Bailey apologized to the bewildered barista before swiftly gathering our belongings. I was putty in her hands as she redirected me to leave the booth, guiding me out of the area with her hands on my shoulders. My legs moved automatically, but my mind was spinning, a whirlwind of guilt, regret, and anger tangling in my stomach.
"Bailey..." I choked out.
"I know, I know. We'll figure it out. Let's just get out of here," she whispered, her voice calm and reassuring.
"I was so angry," I murmured, the weight of everything settling in. "I didn't mean to hurt her."
"You didn't hurt her, Hannah. Well, not permanently — she'll be fine. But she was asking for it, getting all up in your face like that. If you hadn't done it, I was about to step in and do the same thing." Her touch was a soothing balm on my back.
Once we slipped out of sight, hidden behind a large white truck, Bailey pulled me into her arms. I collapsed into her embrace, feeling the tension bleed out of my body.
"You've had a hard day, huh?" she asked rhetorically, continuing to rub my back in slow circles.
"I'm not strong, Bay. I know I might seem that way, and maybe Tristan thinks I am, but I'm not," I admitted, releasing a shuddering breath. "I always feel like I'm on the brink — like it wouldn't take much at all to return to that dark place. And it terrifies me. I can't go back to that, Bay."
"You'll never go back there, Hannah. You are stronger than you realize. You won't let yourself fall back into that place — and I won't let you. I made that mistake once, but never again." She squeezed me tighter.
I pulled back slightly, shaking my head. "That wasn't your fault. I'm the one who pushed you away. I hurt you, Bailey." The guilt I'd been holding onto hit me all over again, and what felt suspiciously like tears made my nose sting.
She offered a tender smile, pure love and understanding in her eyes. "I don't blame you, sweetie. I never have, so don't beat yourself up about it. Dylan is the one who deserves all the blame — direct it at him. Next time you want to hit someone, make it him. Preferably in the face."
A soft chuckle escaped from my lips, the thought of doing just that breaking through the sadness.
"But if that means you have to see him again, then maybe not. We'll just have to go on cursing his name for the rest of our lives. Karma will take care of him." She grinned, scanning my face. "Feeling better?"
I nodded, pulling back, feeling a lot more composed. I still didn't know how I'd handle Amanda, but Bailey was right — we'd figure it out.
"Okay... now on a scale of one to ten, how good was Bryson in bed?" she teased.
A laugh escaped before I could stop it. Leave it to Bailey to turn a tense situation into a joke. She always had a knack for pulling me out of my head at just the right moment.
"Zero. Non-existent. Basically, he left a lot to be desired." I shrugged.
"Ugh. Aren't you glad you broke that off?" Bailey laughed.
I giggled again, nodding. "He was seeing other girls anyway, so it wouldn't have worked out. That — and I literally can't remember what his face looked like."
She grinned, eyes softening as she looked at me. "Let's get you cleaned up. Your mascara got smeared in the chaos and it makes you look like a raccoon."
Oh God. Raccoons... Tristan. I hadn't seen him all day, and he had to be wondering where I was. My phone had died hours ago, and I had no way of reaching him. I was ready to just fall into his arms and soak up all of that abundant warmth he always seemed to radiate.
"Let's head back and try to find everyone." I sighed, my body sagging with exhaustion. "I'm just ready for this day to be over."
"Amen to that," Bailey agreed. "The night has always been better anyway."