I Need You To Hate Me, page 23
Ace forces a laugh, the sound fills the space around us and my heart clenches. “You got that right.”
“Ellie is lucky to have you,” I say. “She looks up to you.”
Ace brings his mouth to mine and kisses me. His lips are soft and gentle. The kiss is different from all the others, slower, deeper—passionate, like he’s afraid that I’ll disappear.
I’m here, Ace. I’ll always be here.
“Calla, there’s something I’ve wanted to tell you about that night.”
“Hmm?”
“When I got drunk—”
The phone ringing startles me, and I almost fall off Ace’s lap. He steadies me with his hand, and I wait for him to answer it until I realize it’s my phone.
I quickly take it out of my pocket and glance at the screen, half thinking it’s Nate or Mia wondering where I am. But I’m surprised to see that it’s my dad. I look apologetically at Ace, silently conveying that I have to take this.
He gives me a reassuring nod. I stand, walking towards the back door.
“Hey, Dad, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything is fine. I was just calling to check up; I haven’t heard from you in a while, and your old man is getting worried,” he says.
“About to get your SWAT team here?” I joke.
“Do you need one, Cals?” he asks, seriousness in his tone.
I laugh. “No, Dad, definitely not.”
He asks me what I’m doing, and I lie to him. I tell him I’m camping with friends. There’s no way he’d be okay with me being alone with a guy, even though I’m eighteen. Especially when I haven’t even mentioned Ace to him.
After assuring my dad that I’m okay and letting him know I’ll come to visit in a week or so, I finally get off the phone.
“You wanted to tell me something?” I ask Ace when I get back.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says, standing up. “Wait here.”
Ace gets a few blankets from the closet and heads over to the back porch. There’s a large bed that hangs from the roof.
“I always slept outside when we came here. My dad hated it.” He puts the blanket down and lies on his back with his hands behind his head, waiting for me to join him.
His eyes catch the moonlight, sparkling. How have I ever known a world without him? How have I ever kissed other people, touched them?
Ace and I are so alike, yet so different in many ways. We’ve both lost a parent, but mine was taken away from me, and his walked out. We both blame ourselves for the mistakes that were, perhaps, out of our control.
He starts a fire inside of me, and I’m like the ice for his underlying ire. I’d like to believe we were made precisely for each other, to balance one another.
Tonight, the moon is more beautiful than the stars around it, like it’s taking all the energy from them. I sit on the swinging bed, kicking my shoes off and putting my feet under the blanket.
“Do you think a parallel universe exists?” Ace asks me.
I lay my head on his chest, and his arms around me are like everything I thought I could never have. I’m addicted to the way they make me feel—the way he makes me feel. He takes my hand and brings it above us, intertwining our fingers together.
“I believe there has to be something…life outside of Earth itself. Look at the sky and all the stars and tell me we’re the only ones here. It’s impossible,” I say, looking up, watching everything above us.
Ace squeezes my hand in agreement.
“Why stars?” I ask Ace, looking up at him. He looks at them like he wishes there’s another life out there for him: another chance, or something else to believe in.
There’s silence for a moment, as if he’s trying to think of the right answer.
“Look up and tell me you don’t feel a greater sense of power, like nothing else matters. Like everything that we’ve been taught to believe in doesn’t exist when you’re looking at the never-ending constellations. Your pain and everything you feel turns into numbness, and you begin to question everything,” he explains.
“I’ve done things that I’m not proud of. I’ve made mistakes that might catch up to me in the future. But lying here with you and looking up at the sky that holds so many unanswered questions and offers no answers in return, it feels like this is where I’m meant to be at this point. Everything I’ve done has brought me to this moment,” he says.
And just like that, we lie there for hours, talking about absolutely nothing, but to me, it means absolutely everything.
I wake up to the chirping of birds, but the spot next to me where Ace was last night is empty. The smell of coffee leads me inside.
“Sorry, there’s no food. We’ll stop on the way home to get some breakfast,” Ace says, handing me a cup of coffee and kissing my cheek. The shirt that he slept in last night drapes over the kitchen table, and if waking up to a shirtless Ace isn’t heaven, then I don’t know what is.
“It’s okay. Coffee is okay.” I smile.
We drink coffee together and leave shortly after. This time he drives the bike, and I’m grateful for that.
“What are you doing?” I ask when he pulls up next to an old building.
“Getting a tattoo.” He winks before taking my hand and walking towards the narrow pathway.
We walk through a painted blue door. A heavily tattooed female in her twenties meets us. “Ace.” Her face brightens in recognition.
“Becky.” He returns it and faces me. “This is Calla.”
“Hey,” I say awkwardly.
Her eyes travel to my hand, which is still in Ace’s, and her smile grows wider. “Glad to see you finally found someone worth bringing here,” she says. “What can I do for you today?”
Ace tells her he wants another tattoo, and she walks us through to the back, seating him in a chair. Ace shows her something on his phone, and they whisper back and forth for a few seconds.
“Don’t look at it until it’s done,” Ace says to me. Becky takes the tattoo gun in her hand after wiping his arm with an antibacterial wipe.
“Does it hurt?” I ask when it touches his skin.
“No, I’m used to it by now.”
Of course he is—black ink covers his arms and chest. I keep my eyes on his face the whole time, and he doesn’t flinch.
He shows me his arm when he’s done. There are four stars, and in the middle of them is a moon. The crescent of the moon is in the shape of a C, and from the smile on Ace’s face, it was intentional.
He got a tattoo for me, and it’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done. The moon. The stars. The whole freaking universe. It somehow became our thing.
“I want one,” I say.
“You want a tattoo?”
I nod, and he tilts his head to one side, considering my answer. “Okay.”
“Can you wait at the front? I want it to be a surprise.” I know what I want, but I can’t explain it to Becky without Ace hearing it.
He raises his eyebrows, and I give him a pleading look.
“Fine,” he says, raising his hands in defense and walking away.
The tattoo hurts more than I expect, and Becky tells me I picked the worst spot for pain. She’s done within a few minutes, and I glance in the mirror before thanking her.
“Are you done yet?” Ace calls impatiently before walking back into the room.
I lift my shirt high enough to show him, on the side of my rib, near my left breast, is a small ‘A’ with a heart underneath it—ace of hearts.
Some people say it’s stupid to get a tattoo of someone’s name on your body, and I didn’t go that far. Maybe the initial of someone that you’ve only know for a few months is stupid enough. But I never want to forget Ace, no matter what happens between us.
He has utterly consumed every part of me and made me believe in everything I never thought existed.
23
Black Hole
I’VE SLEPT MORE this past week than I have in the last few months. No nightmares. I’m smiling more, laughing more. I don’t have to pretend that I’m okay, because I am okay. I finally might be more than okay.
“I still can’t believe you ditched me last weekend and slept in an actual bed while my blow-up mattress kept going down,” Mia says, eating a sandwich. There are only a few people left in the café, and I subtly stretch my body.
“Didn’t seem like you minded sharing a tent with someone else.” I wink.
It didn’t take long for Mia to tell me that Theo slept in her tent. She texted me on Sunday morning, demanding to know where I was, and didn’t fail to pop that minor detail in. She was adamant that nothing happened. “What do you mean nothing happened?” I asked her on Monday at work.
“You know, just kissing.” She waved her hand like it’s a small detail that seemed pointless to mention.
I guess kissing for Mia means nothing—my mind wanders to the day in her room. I doubt Theo thinks that it’s nothing. He’s been acting strange all week. Asking more questions about Mia. And she’s not ‘that weird girl’ anymore, as he used to say when referring to her.
“You know, someone has a crush,” I tell Mia.
“I don’t think so.” As if on cue, Theo wanders into the café, heading straight for us. I smile at him, and he echoes it, but his focus is set on something else. Someone else. I wonder who it could possibly be.
“Hey, guys.” Theo leans against the front counter. His large muscly figure takes up most of the space. I look over at Mia and raise my eyebrows, conveying that Theo does indeed have a crush. She ignores my glance.
“Hey, Theo,” Mia replies.
Theo shifts from one foot to the other. “Uh, did you want to go to the movies or something next week?” he asks Mia. His usual confident, playful self is nowhere to be seen. I haven’t seen Theo like this…nervous.
Mia considers this for a few seconds. My and Theo’s eyes don’t leave her. She looks at me, scrunching her eyebrows together, before looking back at Theo. “Sure! We can go to the movies. Calla would love to come too,” she adds.
“I would?” I ask, confused. I glare at Mia, trying to silently tell her that this isn’t what Theo had in mind. She ignores my subtle glances once again.
“Yeah, of course. Invite Josh. Maybe Liv and Zach could come too, and Ace?” Mia says to Theo.
“Uh.” Theo scratches the back of his head. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something but dismisses it. Instead, he replies with, “Um, yeah, sure.”
“Cool, it’s a plan,” Mia chirps and stuffs the remainder of her sandwich into her mouth.
Theo stands at the counter, glancing around, and turns to head out. “I’ll see you later, then. I’ll go tell the others.”
“Yeah, see you,” I say, giving him an apologetic smile on Mia’s behalf.
“What was that?” I ask Mia when Theo leaves. He’s obviously confused by what happened, as am I.
“What was what?” she asks.
“Is he not your type?” I persist.
“Mm, he’s everyone’s type, Calla,” Mia replies nonchalantly like it’s a no-brainer, and it isn’t. Not with Theo’s looks.
“Then what’s the problem? He was clearly trying to ask you out,” I tell her, but I’m positive she already knows. She’s not stupid.
“And I agreed.” She locks the front door after the last customer leaves.
“You invited the whole damn squad, Mia. I don’t think that classifies as a date.”
She shrugs. “Baby steps.”
Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.
It’s Friday, and Ace has gone to see Ellie for the night. His mom is working a night shift—I would’ve loved to go with him, but I’ve already skipped two weekends of work. Even though Brody hasn’t said anything about it, I don’t want to seem unappreciative of this job.
Tomorrow is the big fight between Ace and Logan. Even thinking about it makes me nervous, and I’m not the one participating in it. Everything could go wrong.
I lie on Ace’s bed, since I’ve practically moved into his room. It’s more realistic, as I’m always in here. His room is much bigger than mine, and don’t get me started on the size of his bed. It also means I don’t have to share a bathroom with Liv and Zach—who knows what kind of stuff they like to do in there. I’ve witnessed them coming out together with red faces. It was either a steamy shower or, well…a very steamy shower.
My phone lights up with Ace’s name. “Hey,” I answer the Facetime call.
“Callaaaaa,” Ellie says into the phone, her bright green eyes looking into the camera, and she moves it so I can see her pajamas.
“Ellie, I love your onesie!” It’s bright purple with a unicorn hoodie.
“It’s my favorite. Acy bought it for me,” she says. Ace takes the phone off her.
“Go get ready for bed. It’s late. I’ll be there in a second,” he tells Ellie, his tone softening for her. She pouts but obliges, waving bye to me. I wave back.
“Are you in my bed? Wearing my shirt?” Ace asks when Ellie is not in the room anymore.
“Mm, yeah.” I gently bite my lip.
“Are you doing that on purpose? Do you have any fucking idea what that does to me?” Ace asks. His hair is dripping wet, and his body glistens with the droplets. I assume he had a shower.
“How about you tell me?” I smile and lean back onto the headboard. I slowly pull up the shirt, watching Ace’s face tense in anticipation.
“Acyyy, I’m ready for my bedtime story,” Ellie calls, and a smile forms on my face. She’s so cute.
“Fuck,” Ace swears.
“Goodnight, Ace.” I end the call before he has time to respond. I’m certain that he’ll be calling me back later—once Ellie is asleep.
I’m bored, and I find myself not ready to go to bed yet. I pick up a book that’s on Ace’s desk and read the back of it.
Looking out into the darkness through the sliding doors, I’m unable to see anything. It’s peculiar how my life used to be precisely this way. I wasn’t able to grasp anything beyond the dimness of the past. Even though everyone kept signifying things would improve, I couldn’t comprehend how it could possibly get better.
I was trapped in the inscrutable shadows, looking back on it instead of seeing the future. And now, I accept the past. I find myself welcoming what the future holds for me. Perhaps, I can even say that I’m excited about it.
I turn and spot a scrunched-up piece of paper next to the trash, like Ace threw it here from his bed but missed. I pick it up off the floor with the full intention of putting it inside the trash. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I unfold it, careful not to tear the page.
When I realize it’s a page from Ace’s journal, I want to throw it in the trash—I don’t want to invade his privacy. But that changes when my eyes unintentionally skim over his writing.
I read the page once. Twice.
Three times.
I don’t register it at first, not wanting to believe it. There must be an explanation—this can’t be real. I’m being sucked into one of my nightmares. Sucked into a black hole.
My body shakes, and my lungs contract, not letting any air through. I physically cannot breathe. My mind runs at a million miles per second, thinking of every single scenario, of every single damn clue. This must be a mistake.
The last few months race through my head at full speed, and my vision blurs.
Stay out of my way.
Breathe in.
I need you to hate me.
Breathe out.
I’m not good for you.
The floor spins beneath me. I struggle to keep my balance.
I don’t drink.
I squat down and place my head in my hands. I close my eyes in hopes that I’ll wake up. But I don’t, because this isn’t a dream. It’s much worse.
I’m a monster.
Ace’s words hurtle through my head as I piece bits of the puzzle together. Everything makes sense, but I try to find another explanation. Anything that may vindicate this.
My heart hammers inside my chest. I keep reading the page that’s filled with Ace’s handwriting over and over until my hands are shaking so much that I can’t focus on it anymore. My stomach flips with each and every word.
I reach for my phone and fumble with the screen. I can’t control my shaking hands, so it takes me a minute to find Ace’s contact.
“Did you miss my voice already?” he picks up. His voice, which usually provides me with solace, now delivers anguish.
I try to breathe so I can form words. Anything. The only way for me to believe this, is to hear it directly from him, and I can’t wait until his return. I need to know now.
“Is everything okay?” he asks when I don’t reply.
Everything is far from okay. “Is it true?” I finally manage to ask.
“What? Calla, are you okay?”
I open my mouth, but I can’t say it. The words are stuck deep in my throat. Instead, I say, “I found a page from your journal.”
Silence—a clear indication that he knows what I’m talking about. I want—no, I need him to tell me that this is not what it seems. I need him to prove me wrong.
“Fuck, Calla…”
“Is it true?!” I’m frantically begging for an answer.
“Let me explain…” Ace begins. But there’s nothing to explain—it’s a simple question.
“Answer me.” My voice breaks. I hope with everything I have that this is a misunderstanding.
The silence is killing me, and Ace’s breathing deepens. A whole minute feels like an hour.
“Yes.”
My heart shatters. I collapse onto my hands and knees, my breathing shallow and quick. I hear Ace’s voice through the phone, but I can’t focus on anything he’s saying.
I need to get out of here, out of his room. Anywhere but here—away from everything that’s him.
Without full control of myself, I manage to get to the front door without collapsing. I step outside, and the chilly breeze wraps around my skin—dragging me into its despair. The air out here is easier to breathe. Nevertheless, my lungs burn with every inhale and exhale. I don’t realize I’m crying until my vision goes blurry again.
