Page 23 of Hate Me

Everything was in order, on track.

I found myself scrolling to the text from over a week ago.

Ashley: Ashley here. Note to Sebastian: make a date with me. Super chill date, no pressure.

I still hadn’t made that date.

Technically, I had to run it by Caspian first.

With his birthday and then him getting a lock on Caleb, I just hadn’t wanted to add anything onto his plate, so I’d waited to bring it up.

Notifying him was a recovery plan thing. He was my self-appointed sponsor, basically. And embarking on a new relationship, even just a date, was a big deal. It should be fine at this point. But I still wanted to run it by him. Not just because we’d made that agreement for me to be open about things with no more secrets. But, because, honestly, I still didn’t really trust myself when it came to all of that.

It hadn’t exactly gone well the last time around.

In fact, it had spiraled out of control.

I cursed and put my phone away.

As I did, my eyes strayed beyond the golden gates of Luxe and I caught sight of a row of paparazzi in the distance.

I’d been off the radar for a long time, so I didn’t automatically tense assuming they were for me. There were a lot of students here who were on their radar, the children of tycoons, billionaires, celebrities.

Fortunately, as I looked out at them, I didn’t see them focused my way. I’d become too boring over the last while to give them anything of note. It had worked as Caspian had intended, getting them off my back so I could breathe easier.

I just had to keep it that way.

I continued eating, relaxing at that, my gaze straying aimlessly around the fenced-in protection of the grounds.

And then I stilled as something else caught my eye.

Something that most definitely didn’t inspire relaxation.

That shaggy brown hair, that mammoth build, and those eyes similar to mine.

Damien.

He stood there leaning against his Ferrari just out of the eye line of the paparazzi.

And he was looking right back at me.

Watching me.

When he saw me notice him, the corner of his mouth turned up.

He was actually smiling.

I frowned as I noted that it was genuine, nothing nefarious about it.

I saw his eyes dart toward the gates.

Then to his phone in his hand.

I realized it was ringing then, as he swiped it, then put it to his ear.

I saw him arguing, then smashing his fist into a nearby streetlight just after hanging up.

It took him several moments to regain his calm.

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