I Need You To Hate Me, page 11
I hate how he makes me feel like nothing matters when I’m with him. I hate that even though he orders me to stay away, he’s always the one who finds me. He’s always there when the only thing I’m seeking to do is fit in and start over.
But most of all, I hate that somehow, during all these weeks of Ace being an asshole, I find myself wanting to spend time with him. I find myself liking him. He understands me in a way no one else has. I grasp him for who he truly is—and we’re not so different after all. Both of us push away everyone who aims to help. Both of us have a tremendous amount of healing in front of us.
But I don’t need complicated. I don’t need this.
“Fuck, Calla. Just wait.” He touches my arm.
“What?” I twist around, facing him.
“That shouldn’t have happened—” He runs his hand through his hair. I can’t shake the feeling of it through my fingers moments ago…No, no, no. I want to rip it out.
This is the last thing a girl wants to hear after kissing someone. It shouldn’t have happened. I’m convinced he doesn’t say it to his other companions.
Was it that dreadful for him? Oh my god, what am I doing with Ace? My heart is thrashing out of my chest. I’m livid at myself for allowing this to happen.
“Why? Because you’re bored with me already? Because you disappeared for a week after a girl called you? Because we’re friends?” I’m not yelling, but it seems like it because everything around us is silent.
“No, Calla. Because you were drinking and you’re not in the right emotional state. I’m not good for y—” he starts, but I’ve had enough. I can’t allow him to finish that sentence. I’ve had enough of him determining what’s good for me and what’s not.
“Ace, I swear if you say what I think you’re about to say, I will…I will—” Ugh! I place my hand on my forehead, rubbing it, and the sharpness of a headache forms.
His lips twist into a grin, the one that causes both dimples to emerge, and I’m inclined to smack it off his face. He’s so infuriating. No one has ever made me feel this much anger, irritation, and apparent yearning all at once.
“You’ll what?” he challenges.
“I—I—Screw you, Ace,” I stutter.
His smile grows, and he raises his eyebrows. “Is that what you want?”
I can’t believe the words that are deriving from his mouth. Why does he think he can say things like that, and most of all, why do his words make my heart race more than it already is?
“Absolutely not.” My voice betrays me and comes out with a hint of uncertainty. All I can imagine is his hands on me…his mouth on mine.
Ace takes a step closer. It’s like he knows what he can do to girls with a single word, a look, a touch. It’s like he’s playing with my feelings—one minute he wants me, the next he doesn’t.
“Ace,” I whisper, stepping closer and setting my hands on his hard chest. I glimpse at him through my lashes and bite my lip, putting on the innocent act.
“Hmm? Did you change your mind?” He smirks arrogantly, his mood shifting once again. The asshole is smirking, and I do my best to keep it together. To not punch him—not because I don’t want to, but because his face is made of steel. He’s been hit too many times to feel anything.
I step onto my tiptoes and lean closer. The inviting scent of Ace lures me in. His eyes widen, and he thinks he’s got me wrapped around his finger like everyone else. He’s wrong. And I do like him. I like him a lot, but I’m not stupid, and I’m not a game.
My lips brush his cheek before whispering, “Stay the fuck away from me.” It takes everything I have to leave him standing there dumbfounded, questioning what the hell just happened.
When I get back into my room, I slam my door harder than necessary and instantly regret it. I hope I didn’t wake Zach and Liv. I glance at the time, and it’s three in the morning. I’ve been out for hours. I turn the light off and collapse on my bed.
It’s evident when Ace comes into the house, because he slams his door even harder than I slammed mine. He’s pissed off, but I am too. He’s been temperamental with me from the start. And from the start, I knew that he was someone I didn’t want to deal with.
But here I am.
I toss and turn, unable to fall asleep, because Ace is downstairs—only a floor away. Hours later, when the light seeps through my window, I finally drift off, but I wish I didn’t, because my dreams are filled with everything I’m endeavoring to escape.
Everything that’s him.
12
The Carnival
MIA PREPARES A coffee order, her head bobbing to the beat of the music that’s playing through the old stereo on the paint-peeled wall.
“Do you believe in fate?” I ask her. A question that’s been running through my mind all day.
I’d like to believe fate is real, mainly because the thought of everything being a coincidence is a terrifying one. The belief that everything happens for a reason makes the terrible things in our lives a part of something greater. Maybe I’m overthinking, once again.
“Have you been spending time with Brody? I swear, if he’s trying to get crazy ideas into your head about his theories, you have to be blunt with him.” She shakes her head.
I like Mia. She has grown on me and is one of the minimal friends I have. She’s different, and she doesn’t worry about what people think of her, which I find vastly refreshing, especially when I’m the complete opposite.
I laugh. “It’s just a thought.”
As if on cue, Brody steps out from the green door at the back. I still haven’t seen inside it, and I’m not sure if I want to. It almost feels like an intrusion because he spends a great deal of time there.
“Well, then…” Mia pauses and turns to Brody. “Brody, thoughts on fate? But please make it quick. We do have customers.”
Brody assesses Mia—he seems surprised by her question. A spark flickers in his eyes. It’s like he’s been waiting for her to ask him a question like this his whole life. He’s passionate about this stuff.
Mia mentioned that she finds all this absurd, and she’d rather go on with her life without unrealistic theories. But I am intrigued, I always have been. I can sense that Mia is as interested as I am, even though she may say otherwise.
“Not everything is defined by fate, and fate is almost always cruel and unfair.”
What did fate do to him?
With that, Brody throws his denim jacket over his shoulder and marches towards the door. That man constantly behaves like he’s on a mission, and I guess he is—his whole life is a mission, by the looks of it.
I’m about to probe Mia further about Brody, like how he ended up in this small town when he visibly comes from a place far from here, but when I turn to face her, she’s staring behind me. Her eyes widen—an indication that there’s a certain someone there. I don’t like the feeling. I slowly turn and pray it’s not who I think it is.
Nate. Thank god.
His caramel locks compliment his blue eyes, and he’s unpleasantly happy. Almost too happy. He removes his keys from his pocket and deposits them on the counter.
“Hey, Calla.” He sits down on the stool in front of me. He doesn’t seem to screen what we both know; he’s not here for his daily milkshake. He’s here to see me. I don’t mind as long as he comprehends that our relationship is purely platonic, and I think I’ve made it crystal clear.
“Hey,” I say, before taking the coffees that Mia prepared to a couple at the corner table. Nate’s eyes are on me, and when I return, he doesn’t waste an opportunity.
“I was thinking, you know…” Nate begins. I’m trying to concentrate on what he’s saying, but the café door opens, and I can feel him before I see him. The atmosphere shifts. I don’t have to glimpse behind Nate to know that he is here.
Ace.
It was easy to keep my distance from him over the weekend—he wasn’t at the house. It’s like he’s living two entirely separate lives, one during the week where he attends university and does ordinary things and then the other…well, he fights some weekends, but that doesn’t justify his disappearance the rest of the time.
Ace trails behind Liv and Zach. From the corner of my eye, I notice he turns his head in my direction. I don’t acknowledge him, but my heart doesn’t hesitate to skip a beat. How long will this senseless crush last?
“Calla?” Nate calls.
“Hmm?” My attention snaps back to him. I have absolutely no knowledge of what he’s been saying.
“So, what do you say?” He leans closer. I lean away from him.
“About?”
“The carnival…” he says. I stare at him blankly. The carnival?
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I say, agreeing without giving it a thought. My heart is still thumping inside my chest from seeing Ace.
Nate smiles at me wholeheartedly, and I’m unable to return his smile because all I can see is Ace. I turn around, Mia is looking at me, wide-eyed. I told her all about Ace over my shifts on the weekend. It’s hard not to when she can see right through me.
I sigh and walk over to collect some cups from the table behind Ace. “Hey, did you want to come to the carnival with us?” Liv asks.
“I would, but I think I just agreed to go with Nate.” I look over my shoulder at him. He’s still sitting behind the counter. He grins when he notices me looking at him.
When I turn back to face Liv, I can feel Ace’s gaze piercing through me. I try to withstand the urge to look at him. However, I fail, spotting the way his hand curls around the side of the table so brutally that his knuckles turn white.
“That’s cool. We can meet up in there,” Liv says, and I nod in agreement. It will be better to go as a group, so Nate doesn’t get any funny ideas. “It will be just Zach and me,” she adds.
“I’m going,” Ace interrupts.
“But you just said you’re—” Zach begins.
Ace glares at him. “I’m going to the carnival.”
Of course he is.
Nate arrives at the house earlier than I expected. “Hey, come in. Just give me a minute.” I open the wooden door to let him inside.
“Take your time,” he tells me as I rush back upstairs to grab my bag, the old stairs creaking beneath my feet.
I let my hair out of my braid and untangle it with my hand. There’s no time to style it, so I leave it down, it hangs in waves halfway down my back. I glance in the mirror, taking in my appearance: washed-out denim jeans with a white spaghetti-strap bodysuit. I grab a light gray knitted cardigan out of my wardrobe, throwing it over my shoulders before heading back downstairs.
Nate has made himself at home. He’s lounging on the sofa with his legs stretched out on the coffee table. I’m glad everyone has already left for the carnival, and it’s just me here. This would be extremely uncomfortable with Liv and Zach.
“You ready?” Nate stands abruptly when he hears me coming towards him.
“Yeah.” I nod while I slide my feet into my black boots.
It’s a little past five, but the sun is already setting. It’s my favorite part of the day. There’s something magical about sunsets—the way the entire sky changes color and transforms into this fairy-floss pink.
It’s only a fifteen-minute walk towards the carnival across the parklands. When we get closer, music faintly sounds in the distance.
“How’s your dad?” Nate attempts to make small talk.
Nate and my dad get along, but I feel it’s only because our dads are fishing buddies. They go out almost every weekend on his beloved boat. “Yeah, he’s doing good,” I say, staring at my feet as we walk.
“And you? How are you?” He comes to a halt in front of me, forcing me to arrive face-to-face with him.
“I’m good,” I say. Nate raises an eyebrow. I offer him an assuring smile. “Really, I’m fine.”
It’s not a lie, not really—I’m fine. I’m not crying anymore. I’m getting on with my life—like everyone expects me to. I can even say that a few times in the last month, I felt happy, but I only felt that when I was with him. I refuse to think about that.
The parking lot is already crammed with cars. The closer we get to the entry, the smell of popcorn and candy intensifies, filling the atmosphere. When I was younger, my parents took me to every single town fair. They let me go on every ride I desired. It was the only time I could eat as much sugar as I was able to fit into my small belly. Those memories seem like a lifetime ago.
I can see why sugar isn’t a good idea—children run past us, giggling and screaming. I can almost feel the parent’s headaches as they carry their children back inside the gates and scold them.
The gravel crunches underneath my boots. I wrap the cardigan tighter around my body when the cool breeze sweeps across my cheeks.
We step up to the booth. “Two people,” Nate says to the man behind the counter. He pays for both of us, and the man hands him two wristbands, which obtain our entry into the carnival. We step out of the way to let the people behind us through. Nate takes my hand, placing the wristband on.
There are rollercoasters and stalls in every direction I look, but the tall Ferris wheel stands out the most, with the enchanting lights fluctuating in colors. Teenagers are walking around in small groups, and the game stalls are crowded with people tossing balls at targets or desperately trying to hook a duck to their rod to win prizes.
From a distance, I locate the whole group—even Theo and Josh are here. So is Ace. Theo sees me and grins, motioning for me to come over. Liv and Zach share cotton candy while Josh attempts to pick some of it off for himself, which results in Liv smacking him.
Once we get closer, Nate does something that makes me think he doesn’t get the platonic thing. He grabs my hand in his—it’s cold and uncanny.
Confusion spirals inside of me. He gives me a smile like he doesn’t believe there’s anything wrong with his actions. I remove my hand from his, but not before Ace notices. His jaw tightens as his eyes flicker from me to Nate. Why is he even here if he’s going to act like someone kicked his puppy the entire time?
“Hey.” Theo wraps me in one of his big bear hugs, snugly embracing me.
“Can’t—breathe,” I manage to mumble into his chest. He releases his grip on me.
I introduce Nate to the group. Apparently, Nate already knows Josh and Zach, as they share some classes together. Everyone appears to like him, except for Ace, of course—that goes without saying. I ignore Ace’s demanding glances and attempt to enjoy myself.
“What flavor do you want?” Nate points to the candy stall, which has various sour straps on display in clear tubs.
“Strawberry,” I say. Nate nods, staggering towards the stall.
Ace seems to be gravitating towards me. I stand next to Theo, and Ace stands next to Theo. I talk to Liv, and Ace somehow gets involved. I glower at him, trying to remind him to stay away. He grins, showing off his adorable dimples—my stomach fills with these imprudent butterflies that I can’t relieve myself of.
Nate gets back and hands me the sour strap. I take a small bite. “This is cherry,” I say, disappointed.
“Yeah, you said cherry, didn’t you?”
No, I said strawberry. I hate cherry-flavored anything, but I don’t mention it—Nate already knew this from all the years we’ve been friends, but I guess he must have forgotten.
“She hates cherry,” Ace says, voicing my thoughts. All eyes go to him. I didn’t realize he was listening to my and Nate’s conversation. I recall telling Ace that small fact somewhere throughout the weeks, but I didn’t assume he’d remember.
Nate glares at Ace and takes my strap, swapping with his forcefully. “Uh, thanks,” I mumble under my breath, feeling the uneasy shift in the atmosphere.
We head towards some games that Josh and Theo want to play—they’re like children. Nate walks on one side of me while Ace on the other. If this isn’t awkward, then I’m unsure of what is.
Nate notices Ace’s actions, and throws his arm around my shoulders. I roll my eyes and keep in mind that I must have a serious conversation with him later, regarding where we stand. Before I have the chance to move his arm off me, Ace moves closer, grazing his arm against mine.
Shifting from one foot to another, I watch Theo and Josh shoot basketball hoops to win a plush toy. Josh pushes Theo lightly when he goes to take his turn, and he misses. This results in a wrestling match in the middle of the carnival.
An arm wraps around my waist, and I’m ready to ask Nate what he thinks he’s achieving. The smell of Ace fills my lungs, and my breathing accelerates hastily.
He drags me into a narrow, restricted gap between two stalls. Ace places his hands on either side of me, against the wall. I glance up, meeting his consuming stare. If this is his definition of staying the fuck away from me, this guy has some grave issues.
“What are you doing, Ace?” I hiss with my back against the coolness of the metal.
“Are you trying to piss me off? Make me jealous?” he asks.
“What?” I ask, perplexed. Make him jealous? “What are you talking about?”
“You and Nate?” he growls, hurling goosebumps up my arms.
“We’re just friends.” It’s not any of Ace’s business. His jaw clenches. “You know, like you and me,” I say, adding fuel to the fire. His eyebrows furrow together, and his eyes darken before he closes them—slowing his breathing.
We stand like this for a moment, and I absorb all his features. The dark circles under his eyes seem to have worsened since the last time I saw him. I guess mine aren’t any better—I simply do an excellent job of covering them up. His soft lips are carved into a thin line, and my chest heaves when the memories of the enticing kiss we shared stream through me.
Ace opens his eyes, ensnaring me. He’s calmer; his eyes are softer. He cocks his head to the side and challenges me. “Are we just friends?”
My eyebrows crease in puzzlement. I want to voice that we’re not even friends, but all I’m able to do is nod.
Ace scoffs at that, shaking his head. A cunning smirk arises on his face, and he skims his thumb down my cheekbone. “If we’re just friends, then why do you act like this when I touch you?”
