I Need You To Hate Me, page 9
Ace is lounging against the headboard of his bed; he changed into light gray sweatpants, and, you guessed it, he’s shirtless. I glance around his room to his bookshelf, towards the door that leads outside—anywhere but him, but I find my gaze drifting towards him. It’s hard not to when someone looks like that.
Ace runs a hand through his hair, and his muscles contract with every movement. He looks at me and runs his tongue over his bottom lip, knowing exactly what he’s doing. I bite the inside of my cheek.
Oh my god. Stop standing there and staring at him!
I make sure to sit as far as I can from him and bring my knees up, placing my notebook against them. His eyes scan me, and his lips twitch into a smile. He looks away and picks up the TV remote. “Do you want to watch a movie instead?”
My eyes widen, and I’m lost for words. “Are you kidding me? What about the assignment?” Ace leans over to the other side of the bed, where his books lie on the ground, and pulls out a paper, handing it to me.
“What is this?” I ask as my eyes linger over it. “Is this the assignment? You wrote the whole assignment by yourself?”
“Feel free to change things as you see fit. I emailed you a copy as well. I assumed since I haven’t been around, it’s not fair to expect you to do it alone. Plus, you’re stubborn and unwilling to talk about how the issues at hand affect you, so I took it upon myself.”
When I’m too stunned to reply, he nudges me with his elbow. “Don’t look so pleased. Now we have time to watch a movie.” He grins, turning on the TV.
He scrolls through the options before choosing a horror movie. He then proceeds to get up and turn the lights off. I stare at him, dumbfounded. Ace continues to surprise me in every way, and I’m curious to read what he’s written for the assignment.
He shuffles down the bed, getting comfortable. I do the same, my arm brushing against his. Goosebumps accompany the faint contact between us. I don’t dare glance up at him—my eyes are glued to the screen even though I’m too distracted to pay attention.
“Are you always needing to take control of everything?” I ask, finally meeting his inquisitive stare.
“Are you mad that I wrote the assignment? I didn’t think you would mind,” Ace says, tilting his head quizzically while assessing me with those charismatic eyes of his.
I shrug. “I’m not mad about the assignment. Thank you for writing it. However, I’ve come to realize it’s a pattern with you. The constant pull towards requiring to take everything into your own hands,” I say, striving to get a better understanding of his furtive thoughts, even though it may be something he won’t want to answer.
His actions prove to be on the same wavelength as mine—we both feel secure when in charge. Yet, his are heightened. I’ve come to realize, his moods are the driving force for the events that follow. I may be wrong, although I doubt it. “I’m just curious,” I add.
“It’s a sense of stability. I’m not sure why you may be surprised. I know for a fact we’re not so different, since both of us want power of the most fundamental element. Time.”
I refrain from telling him that perhaps, time doesn’t exist. It’s not the point, and Ace is right. With time manipulation, there would be endless possibilities and different outcomes, and I would be at the helm of them—able to change any situation as I see fit.
Tearing my gaze away from his, I don’t move for the next hour as I reflect on our conversation. My body becomes rigid, and pins and needles form in my leg. I wiggle back into the headboard, unable to sit still. My t-shirt rides up, and so do my shorts, exposing the rest of my upper thigh.
Ace’s eyes are on me—I can feel them. The lingering makes my throat dry. I struggle not to flinch away or show him that he affects me in a way that I can’t possibly begin to describe.
Eventually, I build up the courage to face him—to meet the dark, alluring stare that ignites a wildfire inside of me. I want him to touch me, so I can experience the spark that often follows our contact. My eyes trail down to his tempting lips, which part a little—how would they feel against my own? The wildfire flares with need.
Oh my…what am I thinking?
“Is there a problem?” I ask, my voice softer than intended. Ace’s eyes snap away from mine. He mumbles something I can’t quite catch under his breath. His jaw tenses, and he exhales deeply, shaking his head.
“I’m going for a shower,” he states, storming towards his bathroom. I’m a bit taken aback by his suddenness. I continue watching the movie before turning the lights on. Ten minutes later, Ace finally returns.
He sits next to me. His shoulder is cool against my own. “Cold shower?”
“Hmm? Uh…yeah, the hot water is broken,” he replies, not looking at me.
It wasn’t the last time I checked.
10
Solace
I COME DOWNSTAIRS. “Is there a certain plumber that you guys use?” I ask Liv. Our shower is leaking, and the water pressure feels like someone’s peeing on you. It’ll take me at least two hours to wash my hair.
“Already called him. He won’t be here until Tuesday,” she tells me, and my eyes widen. It’s Friday. “We’ll have to use the one in Ace’s room,” she adds.
“His hot water is broken.” Seems like we’ll be having cold showers for a while.
“It was fine half an hour ago?” She spreads butter on her toast.
Oh.
Liv and I’ve been spending a lot more time together. It’s effortless to fall into a routine of familiarity. A routine where my life is reaching some normalcy—no more inclination to isolate myself.
I retrieve a tray of strawberries from the fridge and close the door, turning around. Oh, god. Ace stands in front of me…directly in front of me. How did he get here, swiftly and out of no-where?
“Good morning,” he says. The husky voice draws my eyes up to his perfect mouth. I wonder how many girls he’s kissed and what it did to them to feel his lips against theirs. I want him to—
Stop. I ought to bring these amatory thoughts to an end, especially when Ace is observing me with a mindful eye. It’s as though he knows my precise thought process.
I peer up through my lashes, meeting his penetrating eyes—my cheeks burn. “Good morning, Ace,” I say, but it comes out barely a whisper. My lips are dry, so I run my tongue over them.
Ace coughs, clearing his throat. I use this moment to take a step back, away from him. There’s too much tension between us. Why does he have to stand so close to me? He picks his shirt up off the bench and puts it on, promptly marching out the door without another word.
“You and Ace, huh?” Liv places the butter knife in the dishwasher.
“Hmm?” I quickly glance over to her, and she arches her eyebrows in accusation. “No, no, we’re just, uh, getting along—like friends,” I ramble, retrieving a glass of water.
“Friends? I don’t recall myself looking like that at my friends.”
I groan, taking a sip.
“I wasn’t talking about you, but now that you mention it…” She sits on the stool across from me. She places her elbows on the counter and her head in her hands. “Are you and Ace…you know?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Fucking?”
I spit my water, almost choking on it.
“Liv!” I shoot her a wide-eyed look, grabbing a wash cloth to wipe the mess.
“I’ll take that as a no.” She chuckles while taking a bite of her toast.
“Definitely a no,” I agree, but I gulp loudly, unable to get the idea out of my head.
Fridays are usually long-drawn-out. I only have one lecture and no work. I don’t particularly enjoy not having anything to do. My mind demands to be occupied—if I let it roam freely, I find it pulling me towards the past that I can’t change, no matter how hard I yearn to.
Earlier in the week, Theo asked me to help him study. In order to keep his scholarship and continue playing for the football team, he’s required to get marks above average—something he’s currently struggling to achieve, especially with the classes that require math.
Since my mom was a school teacher, she kept me ahead in my classes and taught me more than was needed. So, it’s no problem to help Theo study, even though we don’t share the same class.
“What’s the story between you and Josh?” I ask, and Theo raises an eyebrow. “You know, since you two are always bickering like old women.” Our textbooks are spread out on his bed and on the floor. We’ve been studying for the last couple of hours.
He laughs, the sound bouncing off the walls. “Josh’s dad is my dad,” he says, and I form an ‘o’ with my mouth. I guessed they were close, but I didn’t realize how close.
“Josh is my half-brother. We have the same dad. He cheated on Josh’s mom,” he explains. “It’s really messed up.”
How hasn’t this come up in conversation earlier? But I guess everyone assumed that I already knew. “Somehow, messed-up things seem to generate something good with them too,” I say. The universe has a funny way of bringing people together.
Theo nods, almost to himself. “You’re right.”
“Have you always wanted to be an engineer?” I ask.
“It was the only subject that interested me in school. I liked to build things and understand how they work. The only issue that’s holding me back is the math side to it,” he explains.
Theo jumps on the bed, and I let out a small squeal. He tickles me, and I can’t breathe; I’m laughing and telling him to stop, but he doesn’t oblige.
“What’s that noise?” I ask in between laughter and catching my breath. The muffled sound of house-party music etches its way through the walls.
“The beginning of a frat party,” Theo says sheepishly, supporting his weight on his elbows.
“Oh. No, I’m not staying for that.” I quickly sit up.
Theo pouts and places his hand on his chest. “Come on, please. Liv will be here, and that weird girl is coming too, I think,” Theo says.
I cock my eyebrow. “Mia?” Theo nods, and I roll my eyes. “She’s not weird.”
“She is a little,” Theo says, I narrow my eyes at him. Mia isn’t weird—people are quick to criticize.
“I don’t know. I’m not really into parties or drinking,” I say, and he gives me another pleading look. “Fine, I guess I can stay for a little.”
Shortly, the music is blaring, and people begin showing up. Theo drags me downstairs and fills a red cup with water, passing it to me. “Thanks,” I laugh, accepting it.
“I’ll be right back,” Theo tells me, walking towards the back door. I stand in the kitchen, shifting my weight from one foot to another, scanning the room for anyone I may recognize.
I stroll outside once the music gets rowdier, hoping to escape this place before Theo notices I’m gone.
My eyes immediately land on Ace; he’s leaning against a tree with the same girl from the bonfire and a few other people that I’m not acquainted with. The girl’s hand lingers up Ace’s arm, and she giggles too much when he speaks. An unusual feeling pierces my chest.
Turning on my heel, I step back inside, but not before I notice Ace’s head snap in my direction. My heart races in my chest, and I have no urge to acknowledge that observing them together makes me feel a certain way when, frankly, I shouldn’t care.
Pushing past a few people, I stand in the hallway, seeking to soothe my breathing. More people are inside now, and the atmosphere strains in on me. I lean my shoulder against the wall, letting the coolness seep through the thin material of my shirt.
A calloused hand snakes around my waist, and I know it’s Ace. Spinning around, I face him. His touch is uninviting, cold—especially after he’s been touching someone else. I shake his hand off and cross my arms over my chest.
Ace sighs and turns around, about to walk away. I’m bewildered. It’s like he wanted to say something but changed his mind. What was the point of him following me inside?
“You’re unbelievable,” I say, taking a step after him. He turns around abruptly, causing me to take a step back.
His eyes darken—an eclipse of irritation. It’s the same expression he carried when we first met. “What’s unbelievable is that you expect something different,” he says, placing his hands on the wall, either side of my head. He leans even closer towards me.
His breath brushes against my lips. “I’m not a good person. I will disappoint you.” But it’s as though his words are merely a distraction. All I can think about is how stable he makes me feel and how envious I was when I saw him with someone else.
“You say that, but you’re also the one who came after me,” I tell him. “If that’s true, then why don’t you stay away?”
“Do you think it’s that easy? You drive me fucking insane.” He sighs, running a hand through his dark, windswept hair.
“I know the feeling,” I say sarcastically, but he doesn’t smile. I bite my lip, almost drawing blood.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me? What that does to me?” He stares at my mouth. I’m perplexed—he can’t be implying what I think he is.
“You can’t say things like that to me,” I say, even though ember emits in me when he does.
“Why?” he asks, and I can see a smirk arising, but I can’t be a hundred percent sure.
“Because… because you were just with another girl.” Because we’re just friends. Because your mood swings are not something I can deal with on a daily basis.
“Do you want me to stop being around other girls?”
“No, I just—” I don’t know what to say, I’m lost for words. What do I want?
“Come with me.”
“Where?” I ask, but Ace doesn’t reply. He grasps my hand, and I foolishly follow him. The house is packed, and we are forced to shove past everyone. Well, I have to—people make way for Ace.
I walk past a guy with a bald cut, and he licks his lips. Gross. Within a second, my hand slips out of Ace’s, and the bald guy is groping me. “Where you off to, sexy?” he whispers in my ear, and I resist the urge to throw up.
My knee collides with his crotch, and he stumbles over in pain. “Feisty,” he says before reaching for me again. I don’t have time to blink before Ace stands between the guy and me. Ace sizes him up, and a dangerous smile crosses his face.
“Don’t,” I warn Ace, resting my hand on his arm. Ace doesn’t look at me, he’s still glaring at the guy who’s not backing down from a fight, daring him to make the first move.
I tighten my grip on Ace’s arm, which finally seems to get his attention. His eyes are shadows in the night, craving a fight, but they mollify when he realizes it’s me. He’s angry—he’s always angry. I’m unsure at what, maybe the whole damn world.
Ace takes my hand and gently pushes my body in front of him. His chest faintly touches my back, and even though I’m in front, he’s in control.
“Ace, what was that? I can take care of myself. You don’t need to come to my defense all the time.” I spin around when we’re finally outside, away from everyone.
“Don’t start, Calla.” He tugs on his hair, not looking at me.
“Don’t start? Don’t start what?” I ask, annoyed. He’s the one who was about to instigate a brawl in the middle of a party, and he’s ordering me not to start.
“Hungry?” he asks, neglecting my question entirely. I narrow my eyes. I’m about to tell him no, but my stomach grumbles in response instead. Traitor.
“We’ll get something to eat.” He takes my hand again, the gesture becoming overly comfortable. I can get used to this, and that terrifies the shit out of me. “Is this okay?” he asks, glancing at our hands. I give him a small nod—it’s more than okay.
Ace is hot-tempered and impulsive. He gets under my skin more than anyone else has. He’s messy and full of hard edges, yet there’s something about him that keeps me coming back for more. Conceivably, it might be the fact that I see so much of myself in him.
It seems as though we’re both trying to find a place in this world. Perhaps, we’re hoping for something that doesn’t exist—a sense of belonging, or maybe something to tell us we’re on the right path.
We stroll through the empty park fields, in no rush to get to our destination. I sneak glimpses at Ace—at the dark stubble piercing his skin around his mouth. At the way his chest heaves with every breath. His eyes flicker towards me every now and then, as though he’s attempting to figure something out.
“Ace?”
“Yeah?”
“Why do you think you’re a bad person?” I ask. His fingers tighten around mine, and I sense this is not a question he wishes to answer. There’s a significant pause, and I assume he’s not going to respond.
“I’ve done immoral things. Things that I can’t bring myself to even talk about. To anyone,” he finally says. His mouth sets into a grim line, and he stares into the distance. My mind wanders back to what Logan said at the game.
“Haven’t we all?” I finally ask.
The silence drowns us in its ubiquity, and I can virtually hear both of our hearts racing in unison. “No, Calla. Not like this.” He halts, turning to face me. His eyes have too much grief and rage. Towards whom? Himself?
Ace opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then he closes it, struggling to talk about his past. I understand. I understand what it’s like to not want to talk about harrowing events. I know what it’s like to blame yourself, because if it wasn’t for me, my mother would still be alive.
I don’t have time to consider what I’m doing before I reach out and trace his cheekbones with my fingers. His skin burns under my touch, and when his eyes meet mine, they are full of immoral promises. “Ace, we all do bad things. But not all bad things make us bad people. Redemption is possible.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. The silence between us speaks a thousand words. “And sometimes the worst things that we do lead us to the best things that happen to us,” I add, recalling the conversation with Theo.
Ace reaches for my hand, the one that’s still on his cheek. He wraps his fingers through it, drawing it to his tender lips.
