I Need You To Hate Me, page 3
The more time I spend with them, the more I understand how they communicate with one another. They act like brothers, but, there’s no resemblance whatsoever—I assume they have known each other for a long time, more than the rest of the group.
“Did you just get a job?” Liv raises an eyebrow at me as I sit down next to Theo. It’s the only space that’s available in the booth. She’s holding a small pocket mirror and fixing her rosy lips with a cosmetic pencil.
“Uh, yeah, but the boss seems a little strange,” I admit, and she laughs like that’s already a known fact.
“Yeah, he is,” she agrees and leans into Zach subconsciously. He gives her a kiss on the cheek and whispers something in her ear. I turn away to give them a little privacy. Theo and Josh are still arguing, unaware of my presence.
My eyes travel across the table and land on Ace. He’s already looking at me. He doesn’t bother concealing it or glancing away, his eyes are lined in dark shadows. I hold his gaze in a challenge. His threatening behavior radiates an enigmatic ambiance, and it intrigues me.
“I didn’t see you there.” Theo beams as he turns to face me, throwing his brawny arm over my shoulder in a friendly gesture, at the same time interrupting the eye contact between Ace and me.
“Hey.” I smile back at him.
“You’re still coming to the party?” Josh pops his head over Theo’s shoulder, a smile that would usually tug at every heartstring on show.
“Do I have a choice?” I sigh, hoping to get out of it. I have some schoolwork to catch up on and an article to write.
“Definitely not,” Liv joins in.
4
Unfortunate Incidents
A FEW DAYS have passed without another dreadful incident. I’ve settled in at my new accommodation and acquainted myself with my class schedule. Every day the group meets at the café to catch up and fill each other in on their days. I find myself joining them when I can—in between classes and work.
Stepping onto the foam mat after a steamy shower, I still myself as the sound of my phone ringing echoes through the house. It’s coming from downstairs, where I must have left it after arriving home from my classes this afternoon.
The only person who reaches me on my number is my dad. Since arriving here on Friday, I haven’t called him. He must be getting ready to get into his patrol car and drive here himself. I’m excited to tell him that I’ve found a job and everything is falling into place. I’m making friends, and the classes are engrossing—maybe it wasn’t such an awful idea to come here after all.
The house is empty. Liv texted me earlier in the day to let me know she and Zach went out to a movie and won’t be home till late. Wrapping a towel around my body, I rush downstairs to answer my phone.
Clutching the stair handrail, I round the corner into the kitchen and collide with something hard. Someone hard.
My head throbs, and I’m convinced I can see stars for a few seconds. The towel that I held onto for dear life has now fallen at my ankles as I struggle to come back to my senses. When I do, I find myself in a situation that I’d rather be unconscious for.
I’m naked—absolutely and utterly naked, except for my fluffy bunny slippers, and staring into a pair of amused eyes.
Ace.
To make matters worse, Ace is shirtless himself. I’m unable to move fast enough—reaching for the towel that I dropped, I cover myself. It doesn’t change the reality of this situation; he’s already seen me naked. It can’t possibly get any worse than this.
My eyes trail down his body; I can’t seem to control myself. He must’ve had a shower in his bathroom as well. His hair is damp, and droplets cling to his chest.
I don’t have to see myself to know that my face has turned a shade of crimson. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out—I’m embarrassed to the point of going mute. This is just splendid!
“I thought I told you to watch where you’re going,” Ace snaps. I’m not sure why I act surprised. He’s rude every time we have the pleasure of interacting.
The shadow of the cloudy afternoon peeking through the kitchen window makes his eyes appear darker, enraged. I get the indication this must be his usual demeanor—some people are just bad-tempered.
“What’s your problem?” I snap back at him, my own anger taking over. “What have I done for you to resent me?”
His face softens a little, but that could be my imagination. “Just stay out of my way,” he warns and strides away from me, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
I groan in frustration; it’s like drawing blood from a stone.
Climbing the creaking wooden stairs back to my room, I press my dad’s contact. “Hey, sorry I missed your call,” I say once he picks up.
“Hey, Cals. I’m just ringing to make sure you’re okay. I can’t help but worry,” my dad says through the phone.
“It’s okay, Dad.” I understand his uneasiness; he’s the last parent I have left, and I’m his only child.
We survived the most challenging time together, but perhaps the trauma left our relationship hindered in more ways than one. We don’t talk about the accident. We barely talk about her.
“I’m doing fine. I’ve met some friends, and I might be doing some articles for the university’s newspaper,” I say. If my dad understands that I’m progressing, then he’ll stop worrying about me so much.
“Oh,” he says, surprised. “That’s great! I’m proud of you for giving this a chance, kiddo,” he says. After a few seconds, he adds, “Your mom would be too.”
My mom was an English teacher, passionate about the world. Although, at times, I wonder if she had been too invested in idealism. She was continuously lost in the presence of words, the consumption of them seeping through pages and pages of her journals. I have yet to bring myself to read her journals, which reside in my childhood home’s attic.
There were times when I sat in my room, staring at them—unable to go past the cover. I’m afraid that I’d finally lose every part of my mom if I did read them. I’m not prepared for that.
“How are you doing, Dad? Is everything okay back home? Are the bills paid?”
My dad has the tendency to leave things forgotten when he gets too overwhelmed with them. We don’t particularly struggle financially, but we also don’t have spare money, especially with only one income and my college tuition that my dad’s paying for. I took out a student loan, but my dad insisted on paying for some of the degree—he’s been putting money away for it ever since I was five.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll manage—you don’t need to look after me. Focus on your studies. Start over, make friends…live a little,” he says, but I’m not convinced. There’s not much I can do except take his word for it.
A few days pass. I attend my classes and work three shifts at the café—I haven’t run into Mia’s uncle, Brody, since the ‘interview’. Essentially, Mia takes care of the front end of the café and Brody does the back-end while also working on a “project”—Mia gave me no clarification on what that project entails. It’s refreshing to busy myself with tasks and get into the routine of being a university student.
Friday afternoon rolls around, and everyone is diverted by the conversation of the first party of the semester.
“Come, sit. I’ll do your makeup.” Liv ushers me to a chair near her dressing table—not giving me a chance to decline. Makeup brushes are strewn on the table with every eyeshadow color imaginable.
“Have you ever been to one of these?” I ask as Liv twirls one of the brushes on my closed eyelid.
I’ve been to house parties before, in my sophomore and senior years. It was something that everyone was doing, and being one of the popular girls in school, it was almost a given that I had to attend.
Liv laughs. “Not a frat party, but I’ve been to plenty of house parties. You’ll be fine. Drink, have fun,” she reassures me. There’s an uneasy presentiment that this is going to be a disaster.
Liv doesn’t let me glance in the mirror until she completes the “masterpiece,” as she calls it. I gasp when she hands me a mirror. “Wow.”
“I know, I’m good.” She laughs again. I’m unable to stop looking at the girl in the mirror—me.
I haven’t worn makeup in a long time, and even then, it didn’t look this good. Liv didn’t go overboard; my eyeshadow is light, but my dark circles are covered. My appearance is vibrant with my light freckles covered; my hazel eyes are the focal point.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I’m reminded of how I resemble my mother. I’ve taken after her looks, but my dad’s personality—cool and calm even when put into questionable situations.
“Thank you,” I say to Liv.
She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Now, do you have something to wear? A dress, preferably?” She raises her eyebrows.
“I’m sure I can find something.” I head for my room before Liv tries to dress me in her significantly over-the-top clothing. It does wonders for her body, but I’m a little more self-conscious and aim to be under the radar.
I pick out a black dress and wear a white turtle neck underneath. It’s chilly outside, and I’m not freezing my ass off for the sake of this party. Pairing the dress with white sneakers, I look myself over in the full-length mirror by my closet. The dress hugs my curves nicely, and I pull the scrunchie out of my chocolate-brown hair, letting it hang loosely down my back.
Downstairs, Liv has two shot glasses lined up. She slides one towards me, and I open my mouth to decline. Liv pouts before I have the chance to say anything. “Come on, please.”
Start over.
Make friends.
Live a little.
My dad’s words echo through me. He gave me a whole speech to encourage me to come here. I’m almost positive this isn’t what he had in mind, but I must start somewhere.
Surprising myself, I reach for the shot glass and throw my head back while pouring the contents down my throat. My instant reaction is to cough and gag, but I hold back the urge, and eventually, the lingering taste of alcohol fades.
“By the way, that’s not my first choice of an outfit…but on you, it looks amazing,” Liv says after taking her own shot and scrunching her face. The boys are already at the party, so it’s just Liv and me.
It’s only a fifteen-minute walk to the frat house through the fields of trees, along the narrow pathway that lacks any sort of lighting. The air is crisp and clean with the imprint of a woodsy fragrance. Leaves crunch underneath our feet, and we move closer together at the sound of any noise.
Once we get closer and onto the road, the blaring music can be made out—this must be why the locals don’t live this close to the university.
People are gathered around the front lawn—some of them are talking to their friends, laughing. Others are already throwing up—I guess they started drinking early. I turn away from them before I feel sick.
Liv takes my hand in hers and pulls me towards the front door. She greets a few people, and they greet her back. We don’t stop until we’re inside and she’s pouring us drinks into two red cups. Bobbing her head to the music, which has the capability to pierce one’s eardrums too close to the speaker, she hands me the cup as her eyes scan the place.
I do the same and spot Josh in a bright yellow t-shirt—next to him are Theo and Zach. I yell over the music to Liv, nodding towards them. “There they are!”
Liv takes my hand, and we push past a group of guys in the middle of what’s meant to be a living room. It’s now transformed into an area for beer pong. A hand slides around my waist. I turn around, coming face-to-face with an older guy. A dark yellow stain covers the top half of his shirt, and he reeks like off-beer.
Swaying from side to side, he clings onto me for support and smirks. “How about a kiss, baby?”
I grimace—has that ever worked for him before? “How about a broken nose, jerk?” I retort, and he drops his hold on me.
Liv and I make it to the group without another incident. Theo takes a few steps to embrace me in one of his bear hugs, but Josh beats him to it.
“I’m glad you made it.” Josh grins. Theo glares at him and shakes his head.
“Didn’t really have a choice,” I joke and look at Liv. She’s already by Zach’s side, making sure the girls around them know that he’s taken—I don’t blame her; they seem to linger.
“That’s not what I want to hear. Tell me you came for me,” Josh jokes back. He’s already had a bit to drink; the alcohol on his breath is overpowering.
Theo stands to the side, talking to a girl with pigtails. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he scratches the side of his head. He notices me looking at him, and his expression changes, the sides of his mouth turning up at the corners.
I unconsciously scan the room for Ace so I can stay away from him—as per his request. A few days have passed since the towel incident, and I’ve done my best to avoid him. The more it crosses my mind, the more embarrassed I get.
Ace, the asshole who despises me, witnessed me naked, and in return, I confronted him. It wasn’t exactly an ideal situation.
We’ve been at the party for less an hour, and I already want to leave.
“Hey, what’s up with Ace? Is he always so…moody?” I ask Liv. We’re upstairs in Theo’s bedroom. Liv didn’t want to use the abhorrent bathroom downstairs, and I can’t say I blame her; it reeks like vomit. Theo said she could use the one in his room, and Liv dragged me upstairs with her. My eyes roam the space and land on the medallions and trophies on his dresser.
“No, not usually. At least not anymore.” Liv fixes her hair. She’s already tipsy from a few drinks and even more talkative.
“Any more?” I sit on Theo’s bed while I wait for Liv to fix her bobby pins.
“Yeah, he went through something a couple of years ago, but he’s better now.”
“He doesn’t seem to like me,” I admit. It’s not that he doesn’t like me—he hates me.
“Ace takes time to warm up to people. I’m sure he’ll come around soon,” she reassures me, but I’m not convinced.
What’s he like with other people? I can’t imagine him being anything but a rude asshole. He has friends; that must count for something. I push the thought of Ace out of my mind—I’m okay with acting like he doesn’t exist.
Liv places the last bobby pin in her hair so it holds the side pieces in place and retrieves a makeup kit from her bag. My mouth gapes open; how that even fits in her bag is beyond me. She spends another fifteen minutes touching up her already-flawless face.
“Do you need anything?” she asks me. I shake my head; my makeup is subtle, and I don’t see the point of adding more to deal with drunken, horny university guys. Once Liv is finished, we walk back downstairs. I grip onto her, afraid that she might fall down the stairs if I don’t.
“I’ll be right back,” I say. She nods and walks towards the back of the room.
I head to the kitchen, pushing through the crowded house. Whoever is going to clean this mess tomorrow has my sympathy. Cups are everywhere; vomit is on the counter, on the floor, and even on the walls. I hold my breath as I empty my cup down the kitchen sink.
It’s my third drink and I don’t know how I got through the first two; Liv insisted. My head spins. I don’t like the way alcohol makes me feel—out of balance with my mind.
I fill up the cup with water and drink that instead, attempting to rid the way my body tingles all over. I refill the cup before turning around and coming face-to-face with the one person I didn’t expect to find here.
Nate. My ex-boyfriend.
His caramel locks curl over his forehead just like I remember, and his gaze is set on me in bewilderment. A feeling of nostalgia washes over me—he’s exactly like I remember him, except drunk. Very drunk.
“Calla.” He says my name like he doesn’t believe he’s seeing me.
“Hey,” I say, aware that this must be a shock to him. At least I knew Nate would be going to this university, but I left him blindsided. I decided to attend almost too late and barely told anyone. I also don’t owe Nate anything. He left me.
“I missed you so much.” He comes closer. I take a step back and stare at him in disbelief. I remind myself this is only the alcohol talking and he doesn’t really mean what he’s saying. At least I don’t think he does.
“You look so good. Did you change your hair?” Nate examines me. I didn’t change my hair. It’s the first time I look put together in a long while. We both know it. I’m getting my life back on track, without you, I want to say, but hold my tongue.
Nate was the popular guy in high school—tall, handsome, and the football team captain. I was the cheer captain. It was inevitable that we would end up together. Isn’t that how it goes, the football captain and the cheerleader?
Nate was my first everything. I thought I loved him. Now, I’m not so sure that was the case. We were young and had only been dating for three months before my mother died. Everything changed after that.
“Nate,” I warn him, but he’s too drunk. His eyes are bloodshot, giving the impression that he either started drinking early or decided to add other stuff into the mixture. He leans into me, and I push him back. “Stop.”
“Don’t be like that. You never looked this good when we were together, especially after…” Nate begins.
Anger bubbles inside of me. He knows precisely how to get a reaction out of me. My fist retracts, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Once I power through, it collides with something—Nate’s face, I hope. When I open my eyes, to my disbelief, Nate’s face is entirely intact. He dodged my punch, and he’s grinning from ear to ear.
My eyes dart to the left of Nate, and I lock eyes with the person I intended to avoid tonight. He’s holding his bleeding nose.
5
Flip of a Switch
THE CUP FULL of water that I had been holding spilled over my dress when I threw the punch. Something that I’ve never done before. How did Ace get here? Was he eavesdropping, or just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?
“I—I’m sorry, that was an accident,” I gasp.
