Hating You, page 7
“Perfect. As long as the background check comes back clean, then the job is yours. If you have any questions, you’re welcome to speak with me or Miss Swenson.” Artie motions to me with a look of pride that nearly knocks me on my ass. “She’s being considered for the vice-principal position next year, you know.”
Wait. What is happening right now?
“Really?” Owen asks, intrigued.
“She’s young, but we think she has a great deal of potential,” Artie explains like I’m not standing two feet away from him. “I’m sure she would love the opportunity to demonstrate her value in regards to it, so don’t hesitate to reach out to her if you need anything.”
Are you freaking kidding me right now?
Owen smirks as he looks me up and down. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Our current VP, Ms. Rasmussen, can get you the official application as soon as the Fun Run concludes. Once everything is filled out, and your background check comes back clean, you should be able to start on Monday.”
The whirlwind makes me nauseated, but I swallow it back. “Wait. Are you sure you’re interested?”
Artie’s nostrils flare. “I thought we already discussed this, Miss Swenson––”
“It’s fine,” Owen interjects, offering his hand for Principal Wells to shake. “I look forward to working with both of you.”
Artie takes it with a firm grasp before Owen turns to me and does the same. Which means we have to touch. And I’m not sure I can handle it. Not after everything we’ve been through. I’ve been avoiding this very moment like it’s the plague. I look over at Principal Wells, who’s staring right back at me with a look that says, What’s taking you so long?
Just shake his stupid hand, Saylor. It isn’t rocket science.
Tingles race up my spine as soon as my palm touches his while I say a silent prayer that he doesn’t notice the way I’m shaking like a leaf.
This can’t be happening.
This can’t be happening.
This can’t be happening.
The chant gains momentum inside me as my vision starts to blur with the severity of the situation I just witnessed. I can barely stand to be in the same room with this guy, let alone being asked to work with him on a weekly, if not daily, basis. I’ll be screwed.
Royally.
Epically.
Irrevocably screwed.
I should’ve never messaged him last night. I should’ve never bitten his head off today for asking a simple question about my family. And I sure as hell should’ve never mentioned the fact that he hasn’t even bothered to look for a real job since he moved back.
But one thing’s for certain.
Karma’s a bitch.
6
Owen
I don’t know what I’m expecting when I climb into my car, then check my phone after finishing the paperwork for the new gym teacher in the school’s office, but a message from Slytherin4ever isn’t it.
Slytherin4ever: Sounds like you dodged a bullet to me. Maybe two, if you include the girl you’re still pining after. What’s she like? Do you really think she’s worth the effort? And I think the most important question is: what house does your kid belong to? Or has he not received his admission letter to Hogwarts yet?
My amusement mingles with regret as I reread the message.
What’s Saylor like?
She’s stubborn. Sexy. Soft. Patient.
And she’s hurting. Bad.
Because of me and what I put her through.
With a sigh, I turn the key in my ignition, then drive home without replying. But the question runs through my mind for the rest of the day. Once an exhausted Grady is tucked in bed with the lights off, I give in and answer Slytherin4ever.
OD: Unfortunately, no. A wise woman once told me to wait until my son’s at least ten before taking the sorting hat quiz online, and I’d be a fool to argue with her logic. After all, he won’t be receiving his admission letter until then, anyway, and it could jinx it.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Wise, huh? Sounds controlling to me. Would this woman be the same one you’re refusing to tell me about?
* * *
OD: I’m not refusing.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Just deflecting.
Someone’s touchy today, I note.
Collapsing onto my bed, I roll onto my back and press my weight against the headboard.
OD: I’m not trying to. It just feels a little weird to talk about her to you.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: It SHOULD feel weird to you. If she means so much to you, you probably shouldn’t be talking to me at all. You should be talking to her.
* * *
OD: I’ve tried.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: And?
* * *
OD: And I keep saying the wrong things.
The conversation from earlier today replays in my head like a bad movie before I shove it aside and type another question to Slytherin4ever.
OD: So why are you on here wasting your time talking to me when you’re obviously good at keeping a conversation interesting?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: I’m not sure why I’m on here anymore.
* * *
OD: What do you mean?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Exactly what I said. I shouldn’t be on here. And I definitely shouldn’t be messaging you.
I can’t disagree with her. She’s probably right. Whatever we have isn’t going to go anywhere. I want someone else, and if she’s looking for a relationship, or anything other than a platonic friendship, she won’t find it here. But it’s the animosity in her message that piques my curiosity enough to push her.
OD: Why not?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Isn’t it a waste of time? Personally, I think it’s a little weird that we’re still talking when you say that you’re interested in someone else. Either you’re not that interested in the mystery girl, or you know you don’t have a chance with her, and you’re keeping your options open.
Is that what I’m doing? Keeping my options open?
I scoff as the questions filter through my mind.
Not even close.
Saylor’s it for me. I might not know how to show it to her, and I might not know how to voice it aloud to my sister, Nora, but it’s true. She’s the one I want. She’s the one I’ve always wanted. Even time and distance couldn’t change that. I just don’t know how to convince her to give me another chance. Scraping at the scruff along my jaw, I type my response.
OD: Or maybe I could use your advice.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: About mystery girl?
* * *
OD: Yeah. Like I said, I keep saying the wrong things. How can I earn her trust after I wrecked it into a million pieces?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Maybe you can’t.
* * *
OD: Gee. Thanks.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: It might not be your fault, though, Owen.
How the hell does she know my name?
Maybe she’s a bigger football fan than I’d initially pegged her for? And maybe I’m naive to think that I can fly under the radar by not mentioning my real name while still posting pictures of myself. It wouldn’t take a genius to do a quick Google search, especially when I’ve chosen my initials for my username.
Satisfied, I reply.
OD: Then, who’s fault is it?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: No one’s. It’s just…a repercussion from choices. She isn’t going to forget the pain you put her through. If she’s wise like you say she is, then she learned from it, and she’s determined to never let herself feel that pain again.
Well, shit.
OD: You say that like you’ve experienced it.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Maybe I have.
* * *
OD: And?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: And it isn’t something you come back from.
Knocking the back of my head against the headboard while feeling just as lost as before I started this conversation, I sigh.
OD: So…because I broke her, she’s destined to stay that way? Even though I’d give anything to fix it?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Anything is a strong word, Owen.
* * *
OD: Well, I mean it.
She doesn’t respond, and her silence grates on me.
OD: You doing okay today?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Fine. Why?
* * *
OD: You sound grouchy. And…distant, if that makes sense.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Sorry. Had a bad day at work.
OD: What do you do for a living?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Nothing personal, remember? How was your day?
* * *
OD: Strange. I got a job.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: What kind of job?
* * *
OD: I thought we weren’t discussing specifics.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Touché. Are you excited?
* * *
OD: Yeah. I think I am. I’m hoping I’ll be able to right a few wrongs I’ve made. It’ll give me plenty of opportunities, that’s for sure.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: And that’s good?
* * *
OD: I think so.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Then, I wish you luck.
* * *
OD: Thanks. So what made your day so bad?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Just…a blast from the past, I guess.
* * *
OD: Good blast or bad blast?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: I’m not sure anymore.
* * *
OD: Anything I can do to help?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Nope. So, what did you say?
My brows furrow.
OD: About what?
* * *
Slytherin4ever: You said that you always say the wrong things. What did you say today?
* * *
OD: I asked how her family is, and she pointed out that I don’t have a right to that information anymore. She’s right, though. I don’t. Not after the way I ended things.
She doesn’t respond right away, and I almost fall asleep with my phone in my hand before it buzzes a few minutes later. My eyes pop open, and I scan her message.
Slytherin4ever: Maybe she was being a bit harsh.
* * *
OD: Debatable. I just…I want to be the person she talks to. That she opens up to. But that’s selfish. I haven’t earned that right yet.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Yet? You sure you won’t get bored with her even if she DOES decide to open up to you again? If it happened once, who’s to say it won’t happen again?
* * *
OD: I didn’t break up with her because I was bored.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Then, why did you break up with her?
I run my hands through my hair before tugging on the wavy strands. I need a haircut. But Saylor always liked my hair when it was a little on the longer side. Blowing out the oxygen from my lungs, I type my response.
OD: It’s complicated.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: You like that response.
* * *
OD: We were young.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: So?
* * *
OD: So, I didn’t want to hold her back.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: Sounds like a cop-out to me.
Ouch. I don’t know what else I expected her to say, but her response still stings. Because it sounds like something Saylor would say. She was never afraid to call me out for stuff. Apparently, she and Slytherin4ever have that in common.
OD: Call it what you want. I was a stupid kid who thought he was being selfless when all I wanted was to keep her for myself.
* * *
Slytherin4ever: I gotta get some sleep. Night, Owen.
My brows furrow as I read her message.
Night, Owen.
Not goodnight. Just night.
The words are eerily familiar.
It’s official. I’m going crazy. Because Slytherin4ever is starting to sound a hell of a lot like my ex. Or maybe I’m just imagining things.
7
Saylor
“Um, I’m sorry, but why is he here?” Skye challenges beside me as we both watch a very sexy Owen press the lock on his key fob in the teacher’s parking lot before grabbing Grady’s hand. The last weekend was spent grading papers and planning the new week while pretending the Birds and Bees app doesn’t exist. Unfortunately, it called to me like a siren every single minute of every single freaking day. But by some miracle, I stayed strong, and I plan on keeping it that way.
I tear my gaze away from Owen’s tight backside and dig into my purse, though I have no idea what I’m looking for. A distraction, maybe? A magical button that will delete the memories I have of him? A mythical eraser that can expunge our conversation from my stupid phone so that I stop analyzing the message he sent me before bed a few nights ago that I’ve read a thousand times?
Unfortunately, but not to my surprise, I come up empty and puff out my cheeks before looking up at Skye to reveal the truth. “He’s the new gym teacher.”
Skye’s jaw drops. “I’m sorry. I must’ve heard you wrong.”
“You definitely didn’t.”
“He works here?” she screeches.
Eyes popping, I slap my hand over her mouth. “Will you be quiet?!”
She shoves my hand aside but drops her voice low and apologizes, “I’m sorry, but you can’t be serious.”
“Dead serious.”
“How the heck did that happen?”
“You can thank Principal Wells. He saw Owen at the Fun Run last week and offered him the job.”
“But…why?”
“Because Owen was being adorable with a bunch of the kids, teaching them how to stretch and stuff,” I grudgingly admit before tossing my hands into the air. “Or I dunno? Maybe it’s because he’s the famous homegrown athlete that everyone loved to worship while we were in high school.”
“Probably a combination of both,” Skye surmises with pursed lips. “Sorry, Say.”
“It’s fine.”
“Why didn’t you tell me over the weekend or something?”
I shrug. “I don’t know? Maybe I was kind of, sort of hoping that if I ignored the problem, it would go away, and he’d change his mind.”
She lifts her chin toward Owen as he disappears through the front doors of the school. “Apparently, luck isn’t on your side today.”
“You have no idea,” I mutter under my breath. “Come on. Let’s go inside. And play nice,” I add, my eyes narrowing with silent warning.
“No promises––”
“Skye––”
“Fine. I’ll try to keep my mouth shut, but if Wells puts me in his class to TA for some reason, I make no guarantees.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Speaking of helping out with school stuff…any chance you wanna help me plan the Boo Bash?”
“For sixth grade?” she asks before swinging the school’s front door open.
I step through it and answer, “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Wells wants me to come up with some fun ideas. He thinks it would be good for my résumé.”
