P.S. I Hate You, page 17
“Oh, shut up.” I laugh. My stomach rumbles.
“You’re hungry. Why don't we get outta here and grab a burger or something?”
I stare up into his olive eyes, hoping to see a spark, some tiny connection that keeps me coming back, but there’s nothing there. I don’t love Troy. I think I’m falling in love with Jace.
If that’s true, I better find a way to un-fall in love with him, stat.
***
The whisper of Cindy’s sneakers pads down the hall. Her shadow darkens the crevice of my open door. “It’s past three, hun. What are ya doin’ up so late?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
The edge of the mattress dips under her weight. “You the one responsible for all those purty flowers out front?”
Warmth pools in my chest. “I wanted to do something nice for you after the way I acted.”
She dismisses me with a wave. “Already forgotten.”
I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my back along the wall. “How was work?”
“Usual crowd having all the same usual conversation.” Her gaze roams my face. “What’s troublin’ ya?”
“How do you know something’s troubling me?”
She cocks her head. “It may be hard to believe, but I too was a teenage girl once.” She pushes her palm into the soft comforter. “I know I ain’t your mama, but you can talk to me about anythin’. I hope you know that.”
“It’s just boy stuff. It’s stupid.”
“Lay it on me anyway.”
A heavy breath blows from my lips. “I’ve started to have feelings for someone, and I know he doesn’t feel the same way about me.”
“Troy?”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and shake my head.
“Ah.” Her eyes go wide. “So someone not Troy.”
I nod. “Me and this other guy … we’ve had this tumultuous relationship from the start. He’s said and done things to me that were downright cruel, and I think I hate him. But then he’ll do something so unbelievably sweet that I just can’t help but fall for him. I just have all these feelings stirred up inside me, and I don’t know how to compartmentalize them into one specific feeling, ya know?”
“Sounds like you’re on the verge.”
I lift my gaze. “Of getting my heart broken?”
“Of your first great love story.”
“He doesn’t feel the same way about me.”
She leans in, holding me in her warm gaze as if she can read my thoughts from the inside. “Believe me. He does.”
Butterfly wings flap in my stomach. “But how can I know for sure?”
“A man in love tells you straight. A boy in love tells you with actions. A boy in love who’s tryin’ to deny it, welp, that boy’s gonna drive you to the brink of insanity and back.”
“But why deny it?”
She shrugs. “Some boys are just bred hard. My Jackson was like that. Lord, I was a fool for that young man, and he just kept throwing up roadblocks in our way.”
A small smile sits on my lips. “What do you mean?”
“He’d tug on my braids or steal my purse. This one time, he ran my panties up the flagpole for all to see. He was such a little shit, but when no one was lookin’, he’d kiss me like he was goin’ off to war. It was enough to make my head spin.”
“But how do you fall in love with somebody who’s mean to you? It just sounds so toxic.”
She stares off into the distance, bopping her head back and forth. “Yeah, a little. But it was what he did in between that I fell in love with. When I started at The Great Notch, he sat in the corner of that bar, making sure I was okay. He’d walk me home and do it all again the following day. He taught me how to drive. He went up against my English teacher, Mr. Hyland, for making me cry and almost got kicked out of school.
“Ya see, he was hard on the surface, but underneath it all was someone who I knew would do anything for me. And the minute Jackson stopped denying what was in his heart, everything changed. With his defenses down, I was able to see the real him. The sweet, caring man he was hiding behind all that bluster.” She reaches out to caress my cheek. “Jace will come around, too.”
My heart stops. “What makes you think I’m talking about Jace?”
She cocks her head with a tight-lipped grin. “You think I don’t see the way you two look at each other? Y’all remind me so much of Jackson and me. My boy may like to think he’s tough, but you soften all his rough edges smooth as a cue ball.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. He’ll figure it out. Just gotta give him time.”
I stare down at the faded comforter, trying to organize my thoughts. “You’re not gonna tell him, are you?”
“Course not.” She stands, the mattress springing up in her absence. “It ain’t my story to tell.” She heads for the door but stops and turns back just before walking out. “I do feel compelled to warn you, though. The boy’s a walkin’ hormone. Don’t let him talk you into anythin’ you ain’t ready for.”
I bite down on my inner cheek and force a grin. “Thanks for the tip.”
“Get some sleep,” she says, closing the door behind her.
Chapter seventeen
“What are you watching?”
I tear my gaze away from my iPad screen and cock my head to look back. Jace stands over me, his brows clipped as he peers at the tutorial playing on my lap. I pull out my earbud. “I’m learning how to make clothing patterns on YouTube.”
I hit pause, then press the butts of my palms into my burning eyes. I fell down a sewing rabbit hole two hours ago and forgot to come up for air. Chucking the tablet onto the couch, I stretch my weary muscles. “You got plans tonight?” I ask.
“What do you want?” he deadpans.
“If you’re not planning on leaving the house, I was wondering if I could borrow the truck.”
He lifts a brow. “My truck?”
I swivel to face him and tuck my legs under my butt. “I need fabric to put together a few designs for the store. The closest fabric store is all the way the hell out in White Tail Creek. It’s too far to bike.”
A slow smile creeps along his face. “You wouldn’t be asking me for a favor, now, would ya?”
I roll my eyes with a sigh. “What do you want?”
He rubs his chin like an evil villain plotting destruction and doom. “I’ll have to think about that one.”
“Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?”
He just laughs and walks away. A few moments later, he reappears, keys in hand. “We goin’?”
“We?”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “No one drives my truck but me.”
I offer another irritated eye roll as I step off the couch. “Do you have to be such a blowhard all the time?”
He cups his crotch with a scowl. “I’ll give ya blow hard.”
A yech sound lodges in my throat.
Thirty minutes later, I’m humming along to Ed Sheeran while perusing the various racks of wall-to-wall fabric. I run my fingers along the edges, my heart filled with peace. It’s exactly how Holly Golightly describes the feeling she gets when she walks into Tiffany’s. A sense of calm, the notion that nothing bad can happen in a place like this.
Jace’s boots scuff behind me. “How long is this gonna take?”
“I didn’t ask you to come with me,” I reply, tugging on a beautiful jacquard weave. “Do you like the pearl or the snow?”
“You mean the white or the white?”
I look up in horror. “‘White’ is merely a jumping-off point. There are many, many different variations. For example, that dingy, pit-stained tee shirt you picked up off the floor and put on was likely a bright white when you brought it home from Walmart.”
He scowls. “Bitch.”
“Swine.”
He pauses for a beat before pointing at a bolt of alabaster. “I like this one.”
I raise both brows. “Not bad.” I check the price on the bolt before lifting it out of the rack. “Make yourself useful,” I say, shoving it into his arms.
Together, we traverse the entire store. He traipses behind me like Frankenstein’s monster, occasionally grunting while carrying all my intended purchases. I hate to admit that it’s kind of cute. In a store full of housewives and old ladies, he sticks out like a sore thumb. Tall and swarthy, with a body chiseled from stone and the face of a Roman god.
I catch the girl behind the cutting counter stealing a glimpse of him more than once. A possessive streak I didn’t know I had slices up my middle. I wind my arm around his and rest my hand on his bicep. “The alabaster was a good choice, babe.”
A lazy grin sits on his lips. “Thanks. Babe.”
Regret instantly flushes my cheeks. That was a mistake. The words flew from my mouth like vomit. Now they’re out, and there’s nothing I can do but watch the damage unfold.
“Fabrics make me horny,” he says to the girl.
The flush deepens as it spreads. I squeeze his arm, hoping he takes the hint, but he just lays it on thicker and heavier.
“I dunno if I’m going to be able to wait to get it home. I may need to fuck you on top of the pile right in the parkin’ lot.”
It’s honestly hard to tell who’s more uncomfortable—me or her—when Jace pulls me against him and asks, “Do you have a back room or something we could use?”
The girl’s eyes widen. “Um … I’m not sure …”
“He’s kidding,” I assure her, but she averts her gaze when he starts humping me from behind.
“Excuse me. There are children present.” The stern voice floats in from behind us.
Jace chucks a look over his shoulder. “How do they think they got here?”
When I elbow him off, he steps to the side laughing. “We’re sorry.”
“No, we’re not.”
The old woman storms away in a huff.
The girl finishes cutting my fabrics and folds them into neat and manageable piles for me to bring to the register.
“Can you please behave?” I scold.
A pfft sound leaves his lips. “You know you loved it. Babe.”
“God, I hate you.”
“Sure you do,” he mutters, falling in step beside me in line. Impulse buys line the shelves on either side as we shuffle to the front one shopper at a time. The toddler in the cart behind us begs for a lollipop, but his mother doesn’t cave. She’s too busy looking at coffee mugs with ironic phrases to pay him any mind. Jace whispers over his shoulder. “What’s your favorite flavor, kid?”
“Red.”
He winks and clicks his tongue. I set my cuttings on the desk and dig through my bag to find the coupon I’d clipped from the paper. I never even noticed the red lollipop sitting on the counter until I spy Jace pass it to the little boy. The kid smiles a mile wide, but Jace just keeps walking as if it never happened.
“That was sweet,” I say in the parking lot.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He gets into the truck and slams the door. He can play the tough guy all he wants, but he can’t lie to me. I know the hard candy shell has a gooey center inside. I’ve seen it firsthand. It’s what drew me to him in the first place, and it’s what keeps me coming back.
“Thanks for the ride.” With my new purchases dangling from my fingers, I head for the kitchen and grab the kettle. After filling it with water, I set it on the stove.
Jace takes a beer from the fridge. I try not to notice the way his throat moves as he tips his head back to take a sip.
When the kettle cries, I pull it off the heat. Tea steams up from my mug. I squeeze in a dollop of honey, then stir it around until it’s well combined.
“How do you drink that piss?”
I bring my cup to the table and set it down. “You can go now. Your services are no longer needed.”
But the wooden legs screech on the tile as he pulls out a chair and plops down beside me. “I’d rather annoy you.”
Ignoring his snide remark, I slide the bag toward me and pull out my fabric. Ideas swirl in my head. I’ve bought enough to make several tops, plus a leftover cut of leather I got on clearance.
"It gets too hot in Texas to wear that much leather."
I unfold it and lay it flat on the table. “I intend to make shorts out of it.”
Jace takes another sip of his beer. “Leather shorts, huh.”
I can already see them in my head as I nod. A high-waisted wide leg with deep front pockets and bow detail. They’re going to be amazing.
The shrill ring of my phone muffles up from underneath. I throw back the corner in time to see Troy’s name light up the screen for the third time today. “I’ll text him later,” I say, silencing the sound.
“Answer it.” The low cadence of his baritone sends shivers up my spine. He pushes it toward me with one finger, his denim gaze darkening. “You still owe me a favor.”
My stomach clenches. “You want to waste your favor on that?”
“Pick it up.”
I hit accept and bring the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“Hey! There you are! I’ve been trying to call you.”
Jace’s piercing stare burns a hole clear through me. I rise from the chair and step out of his line of sight. “I’ve been running errands.”
“On your bike? You should have called. I would have picked you up.”
Heat hits my back. Jace’s body pressed against mine makes the tiny kitchen feel even smaller. “It’s okay. It’s good exercise.”
“You don’t need the exercise. You’re already hot.”
The irony pulls a breathy giggle from my lungs. Jace brushes my hair off my neck, making the remainder stand on end. “You’re sweet,” I say, but my voice cracks as Jace’s tongue traces up the shell of my ear.
When his fingers dip below the waistband of my shorts, I press my palm flat on the counter to hold myself steady. There’s a method to Jace’s madness, after all. This isn’t just a favor, it's a slow spiral into madness. A test of my will and a silent fuck you to Troy both at once.
“What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?”
Jace slides beneath my panties and cups my mound. “Go ahead,” he whispers, nipping my lobe. “Tell him what you’re doing.”
Once again, my body betrays me, and I grow damp against his palm. Why does he have to have this effect on me? A little is too much but more is not enough. I’m addicted to his touch. An adrenaline junkie looking for bigger, better height than the last. It isn’t fair.
Jace rubs the pad of his middle finger hard across my entrance but doesn’t venture inside. I cover his hand with my own, silently begging him to stop, soundlessly aching for him to continue. “I have some things to do around the house.”
“What about after?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
He slips into my sodden core, and my muscles weaken. I drop my head to his chest, a muted moan puffing from my cheeks.
“Are you okay? You seem distracted.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth. Jace slides through my wetness like a hot knife through butter. He pulls out just far enough to tease my clit before diving back in and taunting my inner walls with the crook of his fingers. “Just cleaning the kitchen.”
“Yeah? You sound out of breath.”
Jace’s free hand finds its way under my shirt next. He tugs on my bra until my breast falls free.
“Can you hold on a second?”
“Yeah.”
My thumb hits mute as I drop the phone from my ear. Jace stills. “Put him back on,” he growls.
“I can’t do this, Jace.”
“You stop, I stop.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
I roll my hips to stoke the fire, but his tight hold makes it impossible. He rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger making a stiff, aching peak. “I want Troy to hear what I’ve already had.”
“You’re evil.”
“I’ve never claimed to be a gentleman.”
I swallow hard, bringing the phone back up to my ear. “Hey. Sorry about that.”
“So Robbie’s having a get-together at his house later. How long do you think you’ll be?”
“Oh, you’re just about there, ain’t ya?” Jace grumbles.
“Not too long,” I breathe into the phone.
“Great! You want me to come pick you up in about an hour?”
“Make it two.”
My leg muscles quake. I rest the full brunt of my weight in Jace’s arms as he goes harder and deeper, his voice rumbling in my ear. “Did you know your pussy clenches when it gets excited? It’s squeezin’ my fingers.”
Troy blathers on about the party at Robbie’s, but I’ve stopped paying attention. I crush the phone in a white-knuckle grasp, biting down on my lip to keep from crying out. My clit throbs under the precise tension. Jace rubs in slow, tight circles, then dives back in only to return his slick fingertips where they started.
I’m unraveling slowly. Coming apart like a used piece of twine. It won’t be long until I’m shredded out, a tattered pile on the kitchen floor.
“This is mine, right? No one touches what’s mine.”
I nod.
“Say it.”
“It’s yours.” It tumbles from my lips as a wanton sigh.
“What was that?” Troy asks as I come undone in Jace’s hands.
Jace holds me in a possessive grasp. Our chests rise and fall together until I’m back on earth, back in the kitchen. “Sorry. I was talking to Jace.”
“Oh.”
Jace’s smile grows against my neck.
“Let me finish up here. I’ll see you in a little while?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
We say our goodbyes with Jace still inside my body. “I can’t believe you made me do that.”
I shoulder him off, and he pulls himself free. “Made you? I don’t remember you askin’ me to stop.”
I press my lips into a thin line. “Why do you keep doing this to me?”
He shrugs. “You got a bomb pussy.”
I cup my jutted hip. “Excuse me?”
“What don’t you understand, princess? You’ve got a bomb pussy,” he repeats. “If I could take it off you and play with it anytime I wanted, I would. Too bad it’s attached to all this.” He waves his palms in front of my body.
