Dare You to Hate Me, page 6
Taken by yours truly.
Ivy clears her throat. “As fun as this spat is to watch—” Her tone says the exact opposite, which makes me shake my head in amusement as I go back to making dinner for myself. “—I have places to go after we’re done here, so can we please finish this?”
DJ drops back into his chair obediently. Can’t say I’m too surprised. Ivy has that touch, that edge to her that people usually listen to when she means business.
“Hot date?” I press, stacking some of the roast beef onto the bread and slapping a few slices of cheese on next. “I’m sure the guys are lining up at your door to experience that shining personality of yours.”
Through my lashes, I see her shoulders straighten. It’s an asshole thing to be sarcastic about, but I am curious. The guys say nobody sits by her in class because she scares them off with her expression. Even Number 81 looks slightly curious, which I’m not as enthused about.
Ivy ever so slowly turns around, resting an arm on the back of the chair. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I do have a hot date. Tangled sheets and all.”
My nostrils flare when we lock eyes, and she smiles innocently at me. “With whom?”
“None of your damn business,” she snaps back quickly.
I stop what I’m doing and lean my palms on the edge of the counter to hold myself up. “I’d say it is considering you had my cock in your hand only days ago.”
DJ quietly murmurs, oh shit under his breath, but otherwise stays silent as he looks over his notes.
“Well tonight is somebody else’s turn.” Again, she shrugs, unabashed over the simple statement. Her eyes show no mercy, no shame, and I don’t know what to think. Gone is the girl I used to know, and in her place is a total stranger with a fiery personality she only could have gotten by the shit she’s experienced in the last few years. “Don’t be greedy, Hot Shot.”
A slow smirk stretches across my face, and I won’t lie when I say the next words out of my mouth make me cringe a little. “Everybody gets a turn with you, huh?”
Even my teammate winces at that.
Ivy clicks her tongue and turns back around, closing her notebook, then the textbook in front of her. “I think it’s time I left. I have a busy night of fucking the entire campus, so I need to get an early start.”
DJ tries stopping her. “Iv—”
“Bye,” she says, cutting him off, collecting her things and walking out the door without a look in my direction. I hear Caleb tell her goodbye and a muffled response in return.
I drop my head forward between my shoulders and heft out a sigh. “Don’t,” I warn the only other person in the room when the front door slams shut.
“Dude,” he says anyway.
“She pissed me off.”
“So you say that?”
“She was egging me on!”
“And she won,” he points out matter-of-factly, eyebrows raised. “Damn, Griff. Never seen you like that with anyone before. That was…something else. Kinda hurt to watch.”
I shake my head again and angrily finish making my sandwich, even if I’m not hungry anymore. “You don’t know shit about her or me, 81. I suggest you stop butting into my business for once.”
He catches on quickly. “There’s a ‘her and me’ suddenly? Didn’t seem that way to me. It’d make sense why you’ve been in such a mood lately, I guess.” I cut him a look, causing him to raise his hands in surrender. “Fine. All I’m saying is that you owe her an apology. Might get you out of the doghouse if you ever want to act on that little proclamation.”
Do I? I put all the ingredients back into the fridge and pick up my sandwich. “And you’re an expert on pissing women off, I suppose.”
He grins at me. “Voted most likely to get divorced by the time I’m twenty-five. My mom was so proud.”
Sarcastic douche. “I’ll be downstairs. Tell everyone not to bother me.”
He chuckles as I start walking out of the room. “Going to jerk your frustrations out of you? Good luck with that!”
I flip him off and jog down the stairs.
He’s right about one thing.
I need to apologize to Chaos.
Matt Clearwater and DJ horse around in the athletic advisor’s office as she gathers paperwork for them. I smack them both upside the head as I pass by the chairs they occupy before dropping onto the small sofa off to the side. “Quit it. Rach doesn’t need your bullshit today.”
The woman in question is a twenty-something new addition to Lindon’s athletic department. Coach Pearce told HR he didn’t care who was hired as long as they could get the job done. And if for no other reason, the guys show up when Rachel Holloway sets a meeting because she’s petite, got big tits, and doesn’t take any of their crap.
“Thanks, Aiden,” she muses, passing the boys two separate pieces of paper. “But I’m used to it by now.”
DJ looks around Matt at me. “Yeah, lighten up. Not even Cap is this uptight about having a little fun.”
My lips flatten. “That’s because Justin is more focused on getting into med school than dealing with your dumb asses all the time.”
Our adviser stifles a laugh. “Matthew, you’re all set. Pick up that Spanish grade if you want to keep playing. Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a wink, standing up and shoving DJ one last time. “And consider that one-on-one tutoring. I’d love all the help I can get.”
I’m trying to hold back from rolling my eyes at his cheesy line when I notice Rachel’s cheeks tinting red. She tries hiding it, but unlike the two idiots who high five over the remark, I’m paying attention. Rachel moves a piece of hair behind her ear and looks at Matt through her lashes like she’s considering it.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Matt and DJ work well together on the field because they’re basically the same person. Dedicated wide receivers, but easily distracted when it comes to women. And the last thing Clearwater needs is to get involved with the damn adviser because he’s got loose lips about his conquests.
As if he knows what I’m thinking, he shoots me a devious grin that I return with a warning shake of my head. Because he and I don’t get along as well as I do with the others, he looks back to Rachel and purrs, “I’ll see you around, Ms. Holloway.”
He smacks a laughing DJ on the shoulder before leaving the room without a second look in my direction. I move over to the seat he took and bump fists with the other Dragon in the room who turns to me. “I haven’t seen any bags of dog shit lit on fire on our front step, so should I assume you made up with Ivy?”
Rachel perks up. “Aiden, did you get a girlfriend?”
The asshole beside me howls. “That’s classic, Rach. This guy? He barely even lets the jersey chasers near him, even when they’re throwing themselves his way. More for us though.”
Our advisor shakes her head but can’t help but smile. “Some people want more than that, Daniel.”
DJ makes a face at her. “Aw, c’mon. You know I hate when you call me that.”
She crosses her arms on the edge of the desk and gives Daniel an amused look. “That is your name, isn’t it?”
DJ grumbles under his breath.
I snort and drape an ankle over my opposite knee and prop my arm up on the back of DJ’s chair. “Could be worse, Danny Boy.”
My friend huffs. “Don’t start.”
Grinning, I remember the first time I heard his mother call him that when she visited for our championship game last season. She yelled out his childhood nickname and made him groan while I laughed from the sidelines where I was grabbing water and a towel. “Can’t help it. It’s fitting somehow.”
He glowers, I grin.
Rachel shakes her head at us. “Well, I think it’s nice if you found a girl who isn’t going to throw herself at you.”
That pulls DJ out of his stupor. “If anything, he’ll wind up on a case of Forensic Files because of this chick. She’s awesome, but intense as hell.”
I can’t refute him there, but I don’t offer any information on my old childhood friend like they’re both expecting. “Coach said you wanted to see me,” I redirect instead.
DJ rolls his eyes and looks to Rachel. “I can go now, right? Pass classes or else blah blah blah. I feel you. I’m hungry.”
“When are you not?” I remark.
He shrugs. “I’m a growing boy, Griff. I need the proper nutrients to dominate on the field.” When his sly eyes focus on Rachel, I already know his next line is going to make me groan. “And off the field.”
Unlike with Matt, Rachel offers a small, uninterested laugh at the flirt and gestures toward the door. “You’re free to go. You know what we talked about.”
One more fist bump later, it’s just me and Rachel left in her office. I lean back in the chair, resting my elbows on the armrests. “Matt is persistent, you know. He doesn’t give up easily when he puts his mind to it.”
Her eyes go from the file in front of her to me, a flush back on her face. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Aiden.”
We both know she’s full of shit, so I don’t bother calling her out on it. “My grades have been good this semester, so I’m not sure why I’m here. Pearce mentioned a check-in.”
She seems appreciative of the subject change. “It’s mandatory to meet up a few times a semester to make sure everything is okay. Bill asked me to talk to you about next year since you were invited to the combine.” Her manicured fingers open the file folder and eyes scan the page. “Your stats this year have been stellar, and your grades are perfect. You want to be drafted, right?”
When she meets my eyes, I offer a tip of my chin in confirmation. “Coach says the combine will open that door for me. He suggested ending after this semester.”
“Is that what you want? You’re on top of your courses and in the top three of your class. It’d be a shame to see you stop right before getting your degree.”
“It’s just a piece of paper,” is my reply, even though I think of Mom’s face when I say it. She wants me to earn it because she knows I enjoy school. And with one semester left after this one, it seems stupid to drop out now. But Coach Pearce wants me to train hard to be on my A game for the combine. “I’ve never cared about college that much. It was only about football for me.”
Her nod in understanding doesn’t ease the crawling feeling under my skin. Wilson Reed would have gotten me on this path sooner, but Lindon was still offering me the same opportunities even if it was later than I’d planned.
She leans back in her chair. “I saw what ESPN was saying about you after your last game. They seem optimistic that you’ll be a first pick.”
I lift a shoulder. It’s not new news.
When I don’t offer her a reply, she chooses another topic. “What about this girl? Bill seems to think you’re one of the few he can invest the most time in because you’re never distracted by the wiles of college.”
Wiles of college. “Clearly that didn’t work out so well for me when I tried it. I was booted and brought here, which is why Coach is so willing to invest his effort. He knows I won’t fuck it up again.”
“Wilson Reed,” she concludes.
She knows the story. It’s all laid out in the file in front of her. “I fucked up and refuse to repeat the same mistakes. The girl…” I want to say she doesn’t matter but I’d be lying. “She won’t be a problem.”
Rachel lifts her hands. “I never said she would be. And we both know that Bill wants what’s best for you.”
“He wants what’s best for the team,” I correct dryly. “And so do I.”
The sigh she lets out is soft. “Aiden, you do understand that it’s okay to have more than football in your life, right? There’s more than playing the game. Dating, especially at your age, is perfectly natural. It won’t mess you up.”
I give her nothing in return.
Her head shakes in defeat. “Fine, we won’t talk about it. It looks like Wilson Reed will be one of your competitors this season with how you’re both playing.”
“So?”
“You didn’t come here on the greatest terms. It may be hard to see some of your old team. I know a few of them graduated—”
I grip the armrests. “Can we just tell Coach we had this talk? I don’t need a therapy session. No offense, but I have better stuff to do with my time then gossip about my old college or personal life.”
Her frown makes me feel a little bad, but I brush it off because the last thing I want to be doing is getting lectured by another woman in my life telling me that it’s okay to be upset. Mom has that handled on our weekly calls when she checks in.
It’s okay that I’m pissed over Wilson Reed.
It’s okay that I’m irritated with Ivy.
It’s okay that I’m stressed over my future.
But it’s not. Because all of those feelings will ravage my mind if I let them take over.
Closing the folder, she puts it on the pile with a few others. “I only want to help, but if that’s all you want to say today then head out. I know you’re busy.”
Rubbing my lips together, I grab my bag from the floor and haul it over my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to be a dick.”
“You weren’t. I get it.”
“And about Matt…” I’m the last person to tell someone what not to do with their lives, but I can see where things are going with our wide receiver and it won’t be pretty when shit hits the fan. “He doesn’t always think about others when he goes after things. Keep that in mind. You both have a lot to lose.”
There’s a long pause between us before she nods once and forces a tight smile. “Thank you, Aiden. Have a good day.”
I hum and walk out, not feeling bad for planting that in her head. We can’t afford to lose Matt to an impossible endeavor like screwing school faculty. She may not be that much older than us, but the school won’t see it that way. His bragging record will get her canned and him kicked off the team for misconduct, then we’d be fucked. Most second-string players are nowhere near as good as first, and we need a steady winning streak to keep us getting noticed.
As I pass by Coach’s door, I see him on the phone with somebody through the narrow window. Whatever conversation he’s having looks intense, and as if he knows I’m walking by, he looks up to lock eyes with me.
Tipping his head once, he turns his chair to face the wall and scrubs his face over something the other person is saying.
I promised not to let him down when I transferred here, and he’s never doubted me. But there are other people I made that promise to in the past that I failed.
There’s no way in hell I’m making that mistake again.
Chapter Six
Ivy
I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of dripping water. Sitting up in bed groggily, my ears twitch as I blindly reach for the cheap lamp I found at a garage sale and flick the light on. Wincing as my eyes adjust, I blink a few times before searching for the cause of the sound.
“Shit.” I bolt out of bed and almost eat ass when my foot gets tangled in the blanket. Stumbling, I catch myself on the floor and rush over to the water pooling in the ceiling right over my clothes.
The clothes that are all out because I have no dresser or closet in this shitty room. Besides my poor pieces of unwanted furniture there’s nothing else but a broken washing machine and other junk they have no reason to store.
Grabbing my last dry towel, I curse to myself knowing I’ll have to go to the laundromat sooner than expected. I’m already short on cash, which means what I do have will have to go to this. Though based on the poor perception of Lindon’s tight end, and probably half his teammates by now, he probably wouldn’t be surprised if I walked around town in nothing but my skin.
It’s been almost a week, and I’m still grinding my teeth over the encounter. The only date I had that night was with my bed, and I slept even shittier because of what he’d said to me. I’m usually good at ignoring what people think.
Until Aiden.
Since the day I met him, I’ve always held a high regard of what Aiden thought. Anything he liked, I quickly followed suit—watching the clouds in the large yard behind our houses even though I could never figure out the shapes, playing basketball even though I rarely got the ball into the hoop, and exploring in the woods even though I hated bugs.
But having his attention meant not having my mother’s or dealing with Porter when he threw temper tantrums. Instead of being trapped inside my pink room with stuffed animals taking over the twin bed and dolls scattered on the floor, I was able to listen to the crunch of sticks and leaves under my dirty shoes while Aiden pulled me to some new destination where we could hide out just the two of us.
Whenever he’d ask why I never wanted to hang out at my house, I’d give him the same, mundane answer. I like yours better. And over the years, he stopped asking why and made his own conclusions, especially when I found myself in his room more times than I slept in mine.
Having no other option but to brush off the thought, I rush upstairs when the worst of the water is cleaned up. My knuckles rap against Sydney’s bedroom door. She made it clear that nobody was allowed to use her own personal bathroom inside, and everyone’s smart enough to heed the warning.
“Sydney?” I call out, knowing she’ll more than likely hate me for waking her up. My knuckles hit the wood harder.
I hear something ruffling and a loud thud against the door. After a few seconds, there’s nothing else.
Sighing, I try again. “Sydney, I think your bathroom has a leak. The water is coming through my ceiling.”
This time, I hear her muffled scream of annoyance. By the time I blink, the door swings open. It’s not Paris Hilton’s clone on the other side, who’s had a scowl on her face since the day we met like she’d already decided we’d be enemies, but a guy with dark tussled hair covered in nothing except a sheet.
