P.S. I Hate You, page 18
“You’re a pig.”
He slides his fingers into his mouth and pulls them out with an mmm. “And you’re a fuckin’ snack I intend to enjoy later.”
I glance his way with a smirk. "Just a snack? Pretty sure I'm the whole damn meal."
"You mean, like, off the children’s menu?"
I smack his arm as his laughter flows like music.
“Watch the guns, baby.” He rubs his bicep with a broody pout.
He may be faking hurt, but the pain in my heart is all too real. What are we even doing? We fight, we fuck, we fight some more, and between are slivers of sweetness he allows me to sample before closing the door in my face. He’s too unpredictable. Every day is a new version of Jace Wilder, and I never know which one I’ll get. “I should go get ready.”
“Or you can stay.”
I stop short, my heart hammering hard against my ribs. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you’d rather be with me than him.”
I glance over my shoulder. “What do you want?”
His chest rises. “I want you to turn around and get in my bed.”
His words are a razor reopening wounds that just won’t heal. I can’t go on like this. I wasn’t built for casual sex. It hurts too much.
“That’s not enough for me,” I admit before walking away.
***
By the time I finished my shower, Jace was gone. Now I’m sitting beside Troy on our way to the party, but it doesn’t feel right. I’m one guy’s fairy tale and another guy’s fuck toy. This is not how I envisioned finishing out my senior year. I’m torn between two worlds. Missing the life I’d always known and loving the one I’ve just begun living.
Troy can offer me everything—money, power, privilege. He’s my ticket back to where I thought I belonged, but it’s not what I want anymore. I was dragged to this state against my will, but the months I’ve spent here changed me for the better. I’ve grown in ways I never thought possible and done things I’ve never imagined myself doing. My old life was a lie, so it’s time I start living my truth.
The car slows as we come to the country club. He punches the code into the keypad, and the wrought-iron gates welcome us in.
“I thought we were going to Robbie’s?”
“We are. I just have to do one thing first.” He steps out, then rounds the hood to open my door next. Impending doom sits in my gut. I force it down, letting him thread our fingers as we go inside. A frigid blast of air prickles my bare skin. I move closer to Troy for warmth. He offers smiles and nods as we travel through the foyer and past the great hall to the stairs in the back.
Panes of glass enclose the staircase, the outside heat battling the air conditioner for control. The Elite Gym takes up the entire third floor. Troy pushes through the heavy doors. I’ve been here before to watch him fight. However, this time, the room is drenched in black, the blinds drawn tight on the floor-to-ceiling windows. I blink my eyes, trying to adjust my sight, but Troy seems to know the way by heart.
“What is happening right now?”
He stops and sets his hands on my arms. “Wait right here, okay?”
“Where am I supposed to go? I can’t see anything.”
A half laugh ricochets off his tongue. His footsteps grow progressively faint until I can no longer hear them at all. Alone in the dark, my other senses heighten. The sound of my breath fights the rhythmic beat of my heart as I wait for Troy to return.
Light floods the space. I wince, my hand springing to my face to shield the sudden stinging brilliance stabbing my eyes. When they finally adjust, I realize I’m standing in front of the MMA ring.
A tight feeling burns in my chest. Flowers entwine the cage. On the inside mat, rose petals spell out the word PROM? encased in a meticulously placed heart. And beside the garish display stands Troy holding a sign that reads, You must be a knockout because I fell for you.
My jaw drops. Troy’s dimpled grin spans from ear to ear, but I feel as if I’m standing in front of a firing squad. I thought Troy and I were on the same page. Clearly, I was mistaken. He wouldn’t have done this if he had thought for a second I would say no. Troy doesn’t know me at all.
Hope sparkles in his eyes. “What do ya say? Will you go to prom with me?”
What can I say? This elaborate statement of his affection stole my ability to speak. Advertisements for the prom have begun popping up all over the walls of Hell’s Bend High. I’ve witnessed dozens of promposals over the last few weeks, from small and simple to romantic and sweet, but nothing like this. I hadn’t planned on attending. I have no friends here, and there’s no reason to celebrate. My intent was to spend the night with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s while streaming Carrie on Amazon Prime.
“I know you want to be friends, and that’s fine, but there’s no one else I’d rather take as my date than you.”
I lick my dry lips to build up enough moisture in order to reply. Jace’s face flickers behind my eyes, his rugged frame filling out a tuxedo as he whirls me around the dance floor. I blink it away and force my attention on Troy instead. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to me that Red Drum’s prom would coincide with ours. In hindsight, I should have anticipated the question long before he asked it, but I didn’t. The thought never even entered my brain. If that’s not fate telling me Troy’s not the one, I don’t know what is.
Still, his confident stare tugs on my heart. How can I say no to him? I meet his smile with my own and whisper the word he’s expecting to hear. “Yes.”
Chapter eighteen
I roll out of bed to the usual Saturday morning thwap, thwap, thwap. The smell of coffee carries me into the kitchen. Cindy’s already at the table nursing a mug of joe and reading the Hell’s Bend Herald. “Mornin’, sugar.”
“Hi.” I pull a mug from the cabinet and fill it up to the brim. Robbie’s party ran late into the night, Troy refusing to leave until the last person passed out. I feel like the walking dead and probably look like it, too.
The constant banging rings in my ears like a five-alarm fire drill. “Does he have to do that in the morning?”
She smiles. “After a while, you just drown it out.” She folds her paper. “You wanna take this on the porch?”
“Please.”
The morning humidity is worse than the noise, but I suck it up and choose a rocker. “Whatcha got planned for today?” Cindy asks.
I pull a leg up and rest my heel on the edge of the seat. “Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing.”
She lifts a questioning brow.
“Well …” I blow away the steam before taking a sip. “Troy invited me to the prom, and I need a dress. I thought, maybe you’d want to go shopping?”
“Wouldn’t you be happier goin’ with a girlfriend?”
I grin, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “I don’t really have a lot of those. It was just a thought. You don’t have to.”
She reaches out and touches my arm. “I would love to go shoppin’ with you.”
This time, my smile is genuine. “Really?”
“Absolutely. You’re the closest thing I have to a daughter. I’ve always wanted one.”
“Why didn’t you and Jackson have more kids?”
“Just wasn’t in the cards.” She drains her cup and sets it on the table between us. “I lost so many babies tryin’ that I just gave up after a bit. Jace was my blessin’, and he was enough, believe me.”
“He was a handful.”
She flutters her lips. “Jace was two handfuls. That kid almost put me in an early grave with the shit he pulled.”
He comes around the corner as if we summoned him by saying his name.
“Speak of the devil. Mr. Happy in the flesh,” she says with a giggle, then taps me on the knee. “Imma go get ready. Meet you out here again in an hour? We can stop for lunch, too. Make it a day.”
All my warm and fuzzies dance. If I can’t have my actual mom, I’m glad I have Cindy with me. “Sounds perfect.”
“What are y’all plottin’?” Jace lifts the bottom of his tee to wipe the sweat off his face. The glimpse of his taut stomach makes mine clench.
I lift my cup by the rim with the tips of my fingers and stand. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yeah. That’s why I asked, smart-ass.”
“Well, it’s none of your beeswax.” I stick out my tongue and saunter inside. The feel of his stare sears into my flesh, but I don’t turn back. I can’t do this with him right now. Backsliding into Jace’s web of bullshit is too damn easy. For now, I’m hoping to ride this meager slice of joy out as far as I can.
“This one’s purty.”
Cindy unlatches the hanger from the rack. Fragments of light shoot off the turquoise gown like miniature laser beams. I wrinkle my nose in a scowl. “Too much glitter.”
She cocks her head to give it a second look. “I like it. Stands out.”
“Human disco ball is not the impression I want to make.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m afraid we’re runnin’ outta options, hun. You’re gonna have to pick one.”
My gaze scans the rows of gowns. Shopping was supposed to be fun. I’ve tried on an endless number of contenders, but nothing has wowed me yet. They’re all just so … generic.
“Is it too much to ask to find a dress without sequins?” I snatch the bottom of a bedazzled gown and hold it out as an example. “I want something simple.”
“Simple,” she parrots with a sigh. Her stare moves to the other end of the store. “Maybe we’re just not looking in the right place. C’mon.”
She hooks her elbow around mine and drags me away from my rhinestone nightmares. A sea of white surrounds me. “These are wedding gowns.”
“Welp.” She shrugs. “Way I see it, brides need bridesmaids, and bridesmaids need gowns.”
The salesclerk pounces the second we cross the threshold. “Can I help you?”
“We need a dress with no sparkles, sequins, rhinestones, upper thigh slits, corset bindings, or too much cleavage …” Cindy looks over at me to see if I have anything else to add.
“I think she has it covered,” I say.
The clerk purses her lips. “I think we can find something to accommodate that.” Hangers clink as she rifles through the racks. “This would look lovely on you.” She lifts her arm like a game show hostess gesturing to a prize, and from what I’m seeing, she’s found one. Champagne-pink tulle over lightweight satin. The deep V sweetheart neckline plunges to a wide waist that drapes in a perfect A-line silhouette.
A sharp breath hits my lungs. “That’s beautiful.”
The clerk smiles. “If you’d like to try it on, I can show you to the dressing room.”
She spins on her heel and saunters toward a curtained-off space. She drops the hanger on a hook and steps out so I can move in. I make quick work of changing my clothes, then glide into the mirrored alcove where Cindy waits.
“Oh, Ellie.” She touches her hand to her chest, her gaze softening around the edges. “That dress was made for you.”
I step onto the platform and survey myself in the 180-degree mirror. The soft color complements my skin tone, now bronze from months of biking around town. The molded cups hold my breasts instead of pushing them to my throat, and the boning on the inner bodice hugs my curves in an elegant fashion. It’s sweet and divine; everything I was looking for.
I spin around, watching the way the airy fabric swirls about. “I think this is it.”
Cindy grins. “I think you’re right.”
My attention drops to the price tag next. I hiss. Two hundred dollars. It wasn’t that long ago that I’d have rung this up without a second thought. A couple of hundred bucks was nothing. Chump change. I’d buy this dress, then saunter into Jimmy Choo for matching shoes. But having invested all my cash in my new business venture, this dress will cost me almost every penny I have left.
“Everything okay?” Cindy asks.
“Maybe I should keep looking.”
Her expression flattens. “What’s the problem?”
I spin toward the mirror again to give myself a last look. “It’s just a little pricey. I’m sure I can find something else.”
Cindy rises from the chair and comes toward me. She peers at the tag as the salesclerk returns. “How’s everything going over here?”
“She’ll take it.” When I open my mouth to protest, she slices the air between us. “Don’t argue with me. My mind’s made up.”
“I can’t. It’s far too much.”
“Didn’t I just tell you not to argue?” She takes me by the arms and twists me toward the mirror. “You’ve worked too hard to let somethin’ like a little money stand in the way of getting everythin’ you want. Your mama would be so proud. Let me do this. For her.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I feel too beautiful to cry. “Fifty-fifty.”
“Stubborn,” she says with a snicker. “Okay. You’ve got yourself a deal and a dress.”
After ringing up the purchase, we head back to the house. We find Jace sitting on the steps in his usual cloud of smoke when we get there. With the dress bag draped over my shoulder, I stroll up the stairs, but Jace grabs me by the ankle. “Whatcha got there?”
“A dress.”
Darkness falls over his expression. “For what?”
“If you must know, it’s for prom.”
“You’re actually letting that pompous asshole take you to prom?”
I scowl. “Jealous?”
He flicks his cigarette into the yard and stands. “I don’t give a shit what you do.” He stomps down to the yard and struts toward the garage.
“There you go again, running off to pout like an oversized toddler.”
He stops short, then slowly turns. His gaze is a razor slicing me open right here on the porch. “I don’t pout.”
I cock my head. “Oh no? Then what do you call this? You drop hate, then storm away. That’s not how adults communicate.”
The vein in his neck throbs. “Let me remind you that you were the one who did the walkin’ last time. I asked you to stay.”
“No. You asked me for sex. It’s not the same thing.”
“What do you want from me, Ellie?” His arms go up in defeat as he slams against the house frame. "What more can you honestly fucking expect?" His booming voice scares a flock of birds from the trees above. They caw as they fly overhead, drowning out the heavy thump of my heart.
He advances, pushing me back against the house. The bag slides off my arm and pools between us. I stave off the fear coursing my blood and match his stare. If he expects me to wilt like a flower at his feet, he can think again. I'm not that girl anymore. I won’t give in to his foolish games. I tried to do it his way but realized too late that he had the home-court advantage. I was never meant to win. From here on out, I simply refuse to play.
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Really?" he challenges. "Fine. I’ll fucking tell you what I want, then.” He drops his hand to the prominent bulge in his jeans and gives it a squeeze. “I want to tie you up and lick every inch of your body.” He moves in closer, his ragged breath cascading my ear. “I want to taste the last shreds of your innocence on my tongue until you beg me to fuck you harder.” He noses up my jaw and tugs on my lobe with his teeth. "But you know what, princess? I won't. I'll fuck you slowly, so slowly you’ll rage with want and hate, so much that when I finally do shove my stiff cock so deep inside you, you cry out real tears until your face is as wet as your pussy.”
My body trembles from within. The fact that I still want all of this, all of him, makes my skin prickle with heat. My body edges toward him in an act of ultimate betrayal. “That’s really all I am to you, isn’t it? Tears and a hot lay?”
He fists my shirt with both hands, burying his face in my neck. “Just don’t go with him.” His husky whisper wobbles like a choppy sea. I’m stuck on a life raft, trying my best not to get swallowed by the waves, but each one is more violent than the last. All I can do is cover my head and pray I don’t get sucked into the undertow.
It takes every ounce of willpower I can to pull myself from the warmth of his body. I know as soon as I do, the ache inside will eat me alive. “I’m sorry, Jace.” I twist the handle until the door pops open, then back into the house, closing the door on Jace the way he closed the door on my heart. With a silent prayer for strength, I leave them both on the other side.
Chapter nineteen
“What do you think?”
Jolene lifts a flutter-sleeve blouse with her fingertips and cocks her head. “Honestly? I think they’re great.”
Warmth pools in my belly. Over the past several days, I’d sewn my fingers to the bone. Late nights and early mornings. I hid in my room until I’d used up every last scrap of fabric. “I tried to make pieces that coordinate together so nothing is random.”
“You did some damn fine work here. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.”
“Course, now we gotta see if the rest of the population agrees.”
My chest tightens. The real moment of truth will be in the sales. I remind myself that Hell’s Bend, Texas, isn’t my target demographic. This is my first attempt at a designer line, and if people don’t like them, I will try again. Yet as I attach the anti-theft tags, I can’t help but leave a tiny piece of my soul dangling off the rack.
The fear of failure sits at the base of my skull, chipping away at my self-confidence.
What if no one buys my stuff?
What if they hate it?
What if it falls apart after the first wear, and I’m a laughingstock?
I take a deep breath and shove the what-ifs aside. Doing the work is the first step, and I’m proud as hell of what I’ve accomplished so far. I love my designs, even if no one else does, and that’s what’s important. My conviction will make me a success.
“Excited for the prom this weekend?”
“Yes,” I say with a smile. I’d convinced myself that I didn’t want to go—I even believed it—but my anticipation grows with each passing day. I can say with full honesty that I can't wait. “I found this great vintage purse at the thrift store down the block.”
