Hate to Love You - Chapter 53: Chapter 53

Hannah
"Hannah?" Bailey's voice sounded from upstairs, jolting me from my wallowing.
Taking a steadying breath, I quickly pulled myself back together with one last whole-body shudder, roughly wiping at my wet cheeks — but my eyes were red, my nose was running and I couldn't stop shaking. I was a mess, and there was no hiding it.
As she descended the stairs, I managed to muster a sad smile, sniffling. She knew instantly what had happened, and her face dropped. Without another word, she rushed down the remaining steps, dropping to her knees beside me, and enveloping me in a warm hug. The comfort of her arms threatened to unravel the fragile composure I had barely managed to maintain, but I clung to it with all my strength.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie," she murmured, her arms tightening around me as she stroked my back.
I shook my head against her, pressing my lips together to hold back the tears. "It's okay. I knew this was going to happen, I was prepared for it. I mean, I was the one who ended things — why should I be the heartbroken one?"
"Oh, darling, how could you have prepared for this? You love him." Bailey's voice was soft, her eyes solemn as she pulled back and gently pushed some loose strands of hair clinging to my wet face.
My heart jerked painfully in my chest, prompting another pained noise from me, and I curled further into myself. I was still on the floor against the door, and I didn't know if I'd be able to get up any time soon.
"Please don't say it," I whispered.
"That you love him?"
"Yes."
Bailey hesitated, the weight of her reluctance visible in the furrow of her brows and the subtle tension in her body. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders sagging in resignation. "Okay. Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," I mumbled, my bottom lip trembling as I dropped my head, resting my forehead on my knees and allowing my pants to absorb the stray tears that escaped.
She didn't say anything more, but she settled down next to me, leaning her back against the door as she wrapped an arm around my shoulders, offering me quiet support while my heart shattered into a million pieces.
°•°•°•°
Tristan
I drove away feeling like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life.
The road stretched out endlessly in front of me, the landscape blurring into a haze of passing scenery. I didn't know where I was heading, I just drove.
I felt everything when I wanted to feel nothing.
A heavy weight settled in my chest, dragging me down into a pit of bitter regret and helplessness. It was never meant to be this deep. She used to just be this walled-off blonde with an attitude and an even better ass. She fit the mold of my ideal type, the kind of girl I usually went for without any emotional entanglements.
So why the fuck was she different from the rest?
My hand left the steering wheel to rake through my hair as I let out a hollow breath. I was fighting the constant urge to turn my car around and go back to her. But every time I considered it, I reminded myself that this was for the best — for both of us. This way I was protecting her from me. It sucked knowing I had to shield her from myself, but it was the right thing to do. I didn't want to hurt her any more than she already was. I already hated myself for adding new scars to her already fragile heart.
And as much as it pained me to admit it, I knew she was right. I was messed up, broken in ways I couldn't even begin to unravel — I couldn't blame her for ending things. She didn't want someone as fucked up as me in her life, and I had to respect that. Hell, I'd run from myself if I could.
For now, I'd stay away from her, for both our sakes, and avoid our usual meet-ups, even if it meant skipping a few classes. I considered sitting far away from her if I did show up, but who was I kidding? I'd never be able to resist the need to look at her.
Our only silver lining was that no one had said those three little words that would have made things a whole lot more awkward and painful. She would heal. She was strong enough and mature enough that she was going to get over me and that cum-stain of an ex, as much as it pissed me off to imagine. I didn't know if I'd ever get over my shit, but I knew I'd keep going regardless.
Leaning my head back against the headrest, I let out a heavy sigh. If we weren't working out now then we were never going to work out in the long run. I just needed to power through the next couple of days, almost like a detox. And then things would go back to how they used to be. I would go back to how I used to be.
I was strong, I was stubborn — and I never gave up.
I'd be fine.
°•°•°•°
Hannah
"I'll be fine," I mustered the biggest smile I could manage. "You don't have to worry about me."
Bailey's brows knitted together in concern, her expression pained. "Oh God, that makes me worry even more. I wish I could stay, but I can't." She clasped my hands between hers, gripping them tightly. "Promise you'll answer all my calls."
"I really will be okay. I've gotten it all out of my system. Now I just need to focus on moving on—and my internship. That's my priority." I nodded, trying to convey my resolve.
But deep down, I wondered who I was really trying to convince.
"That's good, but promise me you'll answer my calls. Otherwise, I'll hop on a plane and come right back. And then you won't be able to get rid of me until I've sucked every bit of sadness out of you."
I laughed, and while it sounded genuine, I couldn't feel it. "I promise."
Her smile brightened, satisfied with my words. Promises held weight for us, so she believed I would keep it. And I promised myself I would.
"And promise you'll call me if you freak out."
I was sure I wouldn't freak out, so I repeated, "I promise."
"Okay." She nodded, then sighed, her lower lip jutted out in a pout. "I'm going to miss you. It's going to feel like I'm missing a limb again."
"Aww," I said, managing a real smile as she pulled me into a tight embrace. "I love you too. We'll see each other soon, okay? Maybe at Christmas."
After all, our parents lived near each other, although hers resided in the more affluent part of town. That fact alone was why my mother allowed me to keep my friendship with Bailey, even though she wasn't part of our church community.
"Definitely."
She gave me one last squeeze before getting ready to walk to her taxi, but something made her stop. She spun around and exclaimed, "Shit, I almost forgot to tell you something." Indicating for the driver to wait a few more minutes, she returned to me. "Remember those messages you were telling me about? Well, I was thinking about them this morning, before... everything, and I think I know who it is."
When she gave me the person's name, I didn't react. Not even when she gave me her reasoning behind why she thought it was them. If I could bring myself to care, I might have agreed with her. It certainly made a lot of sense. But I just thanked her for telling me and accepted one last hug.
Opening the car door, she yelled, "Remember, call me if anything goes wrong... and answer all my calls! And my messages!"
I hugged myself, nodding as she waved. She shouted a few more goodbyes and blew me several kisses through the window until eventually, she disappeared from sight. I remained rooted in place, staring at the empty point in the street where her taxi had vanished, a sinking feeling settling in my stomach. It always hurt to see her go, but I knew I needed to be alone for a while.
Turning to head inside, I closed the door behind me and found Jenny waiting in the entranceway, her expression sympathetic. It seemed like she had been waiting for me.
"I'm sure you'll miss her," she spoke softly, her eyes searching my face for any signs of distress. "How are you doing?"
Tanya and Jenny had stumbled upon Bailey and me at the front door when they returned. She must have seen my red eyes and wet lashes during our brief conversation. After that, Bailey had ushered me upstairs, and that was the last they saw of me. But she had to sense that something was wrong with Tristan and I. Stepping into her motherly role, she offered her concern, which was sweet, but I wasn't ready to talk or even think about it. Not yet.
"I'm okay," I replied, forcing out a weak smile as reassurance.
Her expression softened with understanding, and she nodded. "Alright. Just wanted to check in."
"Thanks," I said, redirecting my gaze toward the stairs. "I'm going to head up to my room. I didn't get much sleep."
"Sure. Call if you need anything."
With one last smile, I hurried up the stairs, striving to maintain my composure until I reached my door. Once there, I opened it gently and closed it just as softly, wanting to keep my presence hidden from the other girls who had returned after Jenny and Tanya. Penelope and Amanda were pointedly avoiding me — and each other — but I didn't have the energy to care.
Once I stepped into the familiar space of my room, I let out a sigh of relief, though it was short-lived as the ache in my chest returned. I peeled off my hoodie, leaving me in a grey T-shirt and my black pants. Collapsing onto the soft mattress, I pulled the warm blankets over me.
The weight of the weekend settled heavily on my shoulders, and I wrapped myself tighter in my blankets. I tried to push back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me, but it was a losing battle. Memories of the last couple of weeks played out in my mind like an unending film reel, forcing me to relive each moment until the tears flowed freely. The lingering scent of him on my pillows was a cruel reminder of what I could never have again.
Late nights spent tangled in his sheets, the warmth of his body pressed against mine. The early mornings in mine, our voices low and intimate to avoid detection. Then there were those times when he'd find me in the library, his constant banter and sneaky touches disrupting my concentration — and how I secretly loved it.
And then there were the long debates that morphed into passionate discussions, laughter echoing through his apartment as we argued and joked about everything and nothing. Quiet movie nights where his arm wrapped around me, sharing whispered commentary before we inevitably forgot the film altogether, consumed by each other and the need to tear each other's clothes off.
It was as if the very walls of my room were closing in around me, suffocating me with their silent presence.