I Need You To Hate Me, page 7
“Fuck! I can’t do this with her here.”
I’m so drained from this situation between us. One day he’s fine with me, I can even say that we’ve been getting along, and the next, he makes it an issue.
“Why don’t you leave, then?” I don’t understand what he’s talking about, and frankly, don’t give a shit anymore.
He laughs, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, they are hard and narrowed. “I can’t fucking leave. It’s my fight, Calla.”
Great! I’ve completely embarrassed myself. Why didn’t anyone tell me this? I glance at Liv in question, and she shrugs innocently in a way that says I thought you knew.
“Everything about this is illegal,” I say.
Ace’s eyes travel to Liv and then Theo as if silently communicating that he told them so. He’s pissed off, it’s clear from the way he towers over us with distinct male dominance, but when isn’t he?
If my dad knew that I was here, participating in illegal activity…he wouldn’t be impressed. I can picture him ordering a whole SWAT team to shut this place down. Oh god.
Ace’s name is called from the stage, and he turns to face me. “Just stay out of trouble.” For a second, his voice softens. When our eyes meet, I wipe the sweat from the palms of my hands on my jeans. Ace is looking at me like he knows all my secrets. I don’t know anything about him, except that he’s a lawbreaking asshole—that sums it up.
“You brought her here. Make sure she doesn’t leave your sight,” Ace says to Theo before walking away. Why does Ace care what happens to me all of a sudden? But this isn’t the first time he’s done this.
“Alright, alright,” a familiar voice booms through the place, and the loud voices surrounding us dim. The only noises left are the breathing and occasional whispers of the crowd. “You all know the deal, so let’s start off by introducing our first competitor.” My eyes scan the crowd for the source of the voice.
I can’t believe what I am seeing—it’s the university chancellor, Mr. Howley. This gets better and better. I turn to Theo. “That’s the school—” I begin.
“Shh.” He looks around, making sure no one overheard me. “His name is Dean, and I don’t think he wants everyone knowing his day job.”
I wonder why.
Ace’s opponent steps into the ring, and my stomach sinks. The man is twice the age of Ace, and he towers over Ace by a mile. I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly anxious, and my heartbeat quickens. Does Ace have a death wish?
I glance at Liv, then Zach; they’re talking amongst themselves and making jokes. I can’t say that I like Ace, but I didn’t assume that his best friends would want to see him end up in a hospital. Or worse, much worse.
When the fight starts, it’s clear that age and size don’t have anything to do with skill. Ace is in his element. His opponent attempts to throw punches, but Ace dodges every single one of them. Ace jumps on the balls of his feet, challenging his opponent—wearing him out.
I’m unable to peel my eyes away from Ace. The way his body strains, exposing all his muscles, is almost sinful. Well, I guess I figured out what he does to stay fit. Ace’s eyes land on mine through the crowd. It’s as if he senses me checking him out, and his mouth screws up into a cunning smirk.
The crowd grows restless, catcalling, and shouting. Ace notices this, and he finally throws his first punch, forcing his opponent to stumble back into the despair of the ropes. He doesn’t have the time to recuperate before Ace follows through with another blow, and then another. It’s clear who the crowd favorite is when the words of encouragement spill, bellowing at Ace. “Finish him!”
I have the urge to look away. The opponent’s blood is splattered on the floor and smeared over his face. Ace’s hands are covered in it too. Nevertheless, it’s as though someone is holding my eyes open and compelling me to watch. Ace doesn’t stop until Dean, who I assume is the referee, pulls him off the slumped body.
The crowd erupts into cheers, and I’m getting pushed and shoved in every direction. I turn to look around for Theo or anyone to grab onto. Shit. There are hundreds of people here, and I stand on my tiptoes, scanning the crowd for my friends with no luck.
“I had a feeling I’d see you here,” a voice to my right says. I turn around to find Logan leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. I’m able to make out his features better now that we are under a reasonable amount of light, instead of the shadows.
“Your boyfriend is quite the fighter,” he says with a feral grin.
“Ace is not my boyfriend.” Far from it.
“No?”
I shake my head and purse my lips together—the same feeling as last time washes over me, telling me to get the hell away from him.
“What’s the deal with you two anyway?” I dare to ask. Ace wasn’t thrilled to see Logan at the bonfire.
Logan chuckles. “Ace and I share… history. Perhaps this isn’t the best place for me to tell you about it. Let’s get out of here?” He stands upright and moves closer to me.
My breathing accelerates as my hands shake, and my eyes scan the place for the group. Logan doesn’t look like the type to take no for an answer, so I quickly race through ideas in my head.
He takes another step forward, smirking in a challenge, and I take a step back into something warm and hard. A hand glides around my waist and pulls me closer—I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Ace.
“Logan, get the fuck away from her.”
“We’re just talking.” Logan shrugs and looks from Ace to me. I don’t dare to glance back at Ace, but I know the way his jaw is ticking.
“Next time, don’t even look at her,” Ace says. He turns away and pulls me with him before Logan has the opportunity to reply. I’m appreciative of Ace—who knows what would’ve happened in that situation—but also irritated. What if I actually wanted to talk to Logan? Who does Ace think he is? We need to have a serious conversation about his contradictory behavior.
I shrug him off and spot Theo and Josh heading towards us, along with the others. We push past the crowd towards the back door and climb the stairs to meet the night’s fresh air—I inhale deeply and relax my shoulders for the first time since entering this building.
Ace’s motorcycle is parked across the road—how did I miss it when we arrived here? That thought is immediately erased when a much bigger dilemma hits me. It’s dark, and I didn’t drive here. I can’t be a passenger in the car when it’s dark.
What was I thinking earlier when I agreed to come? Oh, that’s right, I wasn’t thinking. I must have been too caught up in Liv’s invitation.
I glance at the car, and I notice out of the corner of my eye that Ace is observing me—he knows I screwed up. He raises an eyebrow at me and pauses, waiting for me to come up with an excuse. I can ask the group if I can drive, but that would prompt more questions than I’m ready for.
“Hey, Liv,” I say, and everyone turns to face me. I clear my throat. “I don’t think I’m feeling too well. I might walk to the house. You know, the fresh air will make me feel better, I think,” I babble, not grasping what nonsense is spilling from my mouth. All I know is I can’t get in that car. Ace’s lips twitch into a smile.
“Are you insane?” Theo says, chuckling. “It will take you hours, and we’re not going to let you walk at night by yourself.”
I clearly didn’t think this through.
Ace is in the middle of the road, between the car and his motorcycle; luckily, it’s a quiet street. “Calla is coming with me,” Ace says casually. My mouth gapes open along with everyone else’s.
Not long ago, he didn’t want me here, and now he’s offering to help me. I didn’t ask for his aid, and frankly, I’m over his behavior. “I’m not coming with you, Ace,” I say, and he stares at me like I told him the world is ending.
“You are,” he states in a definite tone.
“I’ll walk,” I say to everyone, but mostly Ace. I throw an apologetic glance at the group and set off in the direction that I assume we came from. Everyone is still too stunned about Ace’s offer to follow me.
After a few minutes of walking, I pull out my phone and type the address into Google Maps. Two and a half hours. Can this day get any better? This is the exact reason why I don’t do everyday things that people my age do. However, I would argue at this moment that going to an underground fighting arena isn’t a regular thing.
It isn’t long before the sound of a motorcycle approaches behind me. Here we go; here comes the whirlwind of mood swings. “Get on the bike, Calla,” Ace says as he pulls up next to me.
“No.” I keep my eyes ahead and continue walking. Ace struggles to keep up with me and balance on his bike at such a slow pace.
“Are you always this stubborn? I’m trying to help you. Just get on the bike.” He gets off and walks it next to me. I roll my eyes at the irony.
“Why do you care what I do?” I ask, not really anticipating an answer.
“We’re friends,” he states.
I have the urge to laugh, because we certainly aren’t friends. I don’t even know what it means to be friends with Ace. Since we’ve met, he’s been nothing but disrespectful to me, speaking about me like I’m not there, communicating only when it accommodates him. “I’ll walk.”
“Fuck, Calla. I thought you wanted to be friends?” Ace runs his hand through his hair in frustration—he’s got to be kidding me. He’s behaving like I’m the one giving him mixed signals.
I halt and face him, narrowing my eyes. “Are you sure you don’t have a personality disorder? I can’t keep up with you! One minute you feel nothing for me, and the next, you act like a possessive boyfriend. Then you tell me to stay away from you! Now, you want to be friends?!” I’m almost yelling in the middle of the road. I may appear psychotic to innocent bystanders, but I can’t keep up with him.
He kicks the side stand of his motorcycle more forcefully than necessary and crosses his arms. “I’m trying to save you from disappointment.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He exhales deeply and shakes his head, unable to provide an answer. I don’t care anymore. “Whatever.”
I turn to walk away, but his fingers curl around my wrist, pulling me towards him. My feet topple over each other, and I stumble into his chest. Ace encircles his arm around my waist to stabilize me, I hold my breath as my cheeks burn.
The corners of his mouth arch as if he knows what he’s doing to me. It’s an unusual feeling, one that I’ve never felt before, especially not with Nate.
With Nate, it was innocent. Our relationship was built on friendship and familiarity more than anything else. We had sex because it was something everyone else was doing, and when I tell you my first and only time was horrible, I’m not exaggerating.
Nate claimed to have slept with lots of girls before me, but I think that was only his ego talking. He skipped foreplay and went straight for the big bang; the pain was unbearable, and Scooby-Doo, which played in the background on the large plasma TV, wasn’t helping me relax. To make matters worse, Nate’s poodle was attempting to hump his leg the whole time.
Fortunately, it took less than five minutes for Nate to finish, and I didn’t have the urge to try it again since. Thinking back on it now, I’m surprised that we proceeded to date for another month after that unfortunate event.
I peek up at Ace through my lashes—he’s already watching me. For a second, and only for a second, my gaze trails to his lips, and I envision what it would be like to welcome them against my own. Snap out of it! Ace is not someone I should be getting tangled up with, for many reasons.
“Let’s start over—as friends?” he says.
There’s that word again, and I still don’t know what it signifies. I deflect my attention from his mouth, striving to better understand what the word friends means to him.
He sure doesn’t act like this with Liv or any of his other deemed friends. “You’ll have to elaborate on that. I’m struggling to keep up with you.”
Ace pauses for a moment with his arm still around me, and his eyes scan my expression for clarification.
“You want to be friends…like you and Liv?” I prompt.
He closes his eyes briefly and shakes his head, which makes me even more confused. I attempt to turn away from him—there’s only a certain amount of Ace I can handle in one day, and that limit has already lapsed.
Ace gently places his hand on my jaw, turning me to meet his gaze again. “Like you and me.” I’m still confused about what that means, but the way he says it makes me feel something, something that I shouldn’t. Am I reading too much into this? Is this another one of his games?
“Is this just another act, Ace? Because if it is, then I don’t want to be a part of it. I’m exhausted with the way your moods abruptly change.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. I stare at him, perplexed at the words that come out of his mouth. I never expected an apology, even though I damn well know his actions merited one.
“An apology? Wow, who would have thought we would come so far?”
He shakes his head with amusement. “Now, get on the bike.”
I shoot him a look of disapproval, and he adds, “Please get on the bike, Calla.”
9
The Game
ACE DISAPPEARS FOR the remainder of the weekend. He drove me home on Saturday night after the club, and I haven’t seen him since. I spend the weekend with Liv, helping her start on the cheer squad uniforms.
There’s a lot I don’t know about her. She grew up competing for the spotlight amongst her four younger siblings. Her parents divorced when she was only five years old, and although she says she doesn’t remember it much, her countenance tells a different story.
On Monday, after classes, I come home to find a pink sticky note on my door with a CD taped underneath. My favorite is track 3. There’s no doubt in my mind that the note is from Ace. I peel it off and take the CD in my hands. The only place I can listen to it is in my car. Ace is either very observant or simply assumed that I have a CD player—which no one does these days.
I go downstairs to thank him for it, maybe even listen to the CD in his room, where he’s bound to have a CD player. However, I find the house empty. Instead, I grab a pen from my room and a sticky note from my stationery. Why autobiographies? All of his books are some kind of autobiography. I could never quite get into one myself. I stick to fiction.
The next morning, I find his reply stuck to my door. Everyone who writes them finds the good out of every seemingly dire situation—an interesting way of perceiving things.
Ace and I communicate through sticky notes for the remainder of the week. I don’t ask where he disappears to or why he’s barely in class—our assignment isn’t due for another three weeks, so we have time.
We open up more than we would have in person. The distance between us serves as a safety barrier that we can lean against. Yet, neither of us pushes too far, afraid to spiral down into the unspoken shadows and ultimately destroy the pathway we have built.
The university football team—which Theo is a part of—has their first season game on Thursday night. Theo suggested I come with Liv and Zach to watch. It’s only a fifteen-minute walk to the fields from our house, and it’s “sure to be a rowdy game,” as Theo put it.
I walk downstairs to meet Liv and Zach once I get ready, only to notice that Ace is leaning on the open-door frame. He wears black jeans and a dark t-shirt that match his persona exceptionally well. In some ways, he’s an enigma that’s impossible to solve, and yet, I notice a part of myself when I look at him. A piece that’s bitter at the world and striving to push everyone away who tries to help.
Pausing on the stairs, I allow myself to watch Ace as he stares out into the distance—his tattooed arms folded over his chest, closing himself off.
The wooden stairs creak beneath my feet, and his head turns in my direction. His eyes roam me once—twice. I force myself to not quiver underneath his mysterious gaze.
“I suppose that’s better than your pink slippers.” He gives me a knowing smile, showing his prominent dimples off.
Oh god, the towel incident from two weeks ago. He decides to bring that up now?
Heat charges to my cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” he asks, taking a few steps in my direction. I’m still on the stairs, watching him inquisitively. One would think Ace’s tall and strapping figure weighs him down; however, his movements are anything but that. On the contrary, they are oddly graceful.
I shake my head in response, keeping my eyes on him. A playful smirk dances on his enthralling mouth, and I put my foot out to take another step towards him. I misjudge the distance of the stairs and stumble forward, grabbing the wooden stair rail.
Once I stabilize myself, my eyes land on Ace. He’s on his knees at the bottom of the stairs—ready to catch me. “What were you going to do?” I ask, furrowing my eyebrows.
“Soften the blow, so I could make a joke about you falling for me.” He grins.
I roll my eyes. “That’s unfortunate.”
Ace opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted.
“Ready?” Liv says from the top of the stairs. She looks from me to Ace, and her jaw drops as she raises her eyebrows in question.
“Waiting on you two,” Ace answers, standing up, grinning. Liv and Zach make their way down the stairs, and we set off towards the university campus.
The night sky is covered with a blanket of clouds that float above us at a rapid speed. Occasionally, there’s an opening where a group of stars peeks through, fighting for air, but the shadows that follow swallow them up again. The atmosphere is muggy with the promise of rain later on.
Ace and I end up walking behind Liv and Zach. They’re grossly in love, and it shows. Their arms are draped over each other, and Zach says something that earns a burst of laughter from Liv. Occasionally, his lips brush her temple, and I notice how Zach pulls her closer to him.
“How did they meet?” I ask Ace.
Liv overhears me and turns around, her smile widening. “It was love at first sight. Isn’t that so, babe?” She tugs on Zach’s arm.
