Page 4 of Love to Hate You

Carter scratches his shadowed jaw. “Well, that was certainly odd. Why do you think he took off so quickly?” A smile hovers around the edges of his lips, and I grit my teeth. It takes everything I have inside not to grab the lamp on the end table and heave it in his direction.

“Yes,” I bite out. “Him leaving was definitely the odd part of the evening.” I tap my chin a few times. “Whereas you prancing around in your underwear with your cock on display was not.”

His shoulders tremble with silent mirth. He clears his throat and admonishes, “I hope you’re talking about the roosters and not—”

“What are you even doing here?” I snap. There’s only so much I can take before I totally lose it. And I’ve just approached the limit. I’ll never understand why Carter enjoys messing with me. It’s maddening.

“Umm, I live here.” He arches a brow as if I’m slow on the uptake. “Remember?”

“It would be impossible to forget.” I fold my arms across my chest and scowl. “Why aren’t you out with Noah?”

Noah is my cousin. He’s also Carter’s friend and teammate, which is how I got roped into this disastrous living situation in the first place.

Think about how awesome it’ll be, Daze. Senior year will be a blast.

Yeah…not so much.

Carter shrugs, looking perfectly at ease lounging around in his super-tight, leaving-absolutely-nothing-to-the-imagination undies. “Guess I wasn’t feeling it.”

I snort. Yeah, right. “Since when?”

I’ve known Carter for three years. When isn’t he up for a party or heading to the bars and dragging home a one-night stand?

All right, fine. There’s usually no dragging involved. Women flock to him in droves. His short dark hair, piercing gray eyes, and athletic build honed from years of playing football and lacrosse is college girl catnip. And the fact that he’s headed to the NFL only ups his hotness factor.

According to other girls.

Not me.

Carter takes a moment to study his blunt-tipped fingernails as if they’re extremely interesting. “Maybe I wanted to spend the evening at home, relaxing in my Calvin Kleins.” His gaze shifts toward mine.

A sizzle of unwanted energy zips through my body as they collide. I clench my teeth against the onslaught, desperate to ignore the sexual tug I feel for him. It’s been there, simmering in the background, since freshman year and has yet to wane. I’ve told myself repeatedly that it’s not a big deal to feel attracted to someone you’re barely able to tolerate. But secretly, it bothers me on a deep level because I don’t want to feel it. Carter annoys the hell out of me. My reaction to him is always instantaneous and visceral.

For the hundredth time, I curse my cousin, Noah. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be stuck sharing space with Carter. But there’s nothing that can be done about it now. I’m locked into the rental agreement and the academic school year has only begun. I’ve got eight long months ahead of me…

To not kill him.

With my bare hands.

We’ll see if I’m able to get through it.

I tap my foot against the polished wood floor and scowl. Humor flashes in his eyes as he unfolds himself from the chair and stands, stretching his arms overhead. All of his muscles ripple and tighten. My mouth dries, and I force my eyes away. It’s not quick enough, and I catch an eye-popping amount of chiseled strength.

Ugh. Why does he have to be so good-looking?

Carter isn’t even my type—he’s really not—and a throbbing ache has already taken up residence in my lower region. It’s frustrating.

“I think I’ll get dressed,” he says.

My head snaps up. “What?”

He shrugs, a smirk hovering around the edges of his lips. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to head out after all.” The smirk broadens into a grin. “Looks like your plans fell through for the evening. Any interest in tagging along?”

This time, I don’t give it a second thought. I grab the television remote from the coffee table and hurtle it at his head.

Without breaking eye contact, he catches the sleek black controller in his hand. “I take it that’s a no?”

I growl in frustration as he drops the remote onto the recliner and retreats to his bedroom.

Goddamn it!

I knew he stayed here on purpose. He wasn’t tired or wanting to spend an evening at home chilling out. He was lying in wait, hanging around the apartment, ready to pounce. And I fell right into his trap.

I shake my head and bury my face in my hands.

Deep breaths, I tell myself. I need to take deep breaths, or I’m going to commit a felony and go to prison for second-degree murder.

I’m less than a month into this living arrangement, and already I know it’s going to be a long year.

---