Page 18 of Hate To Love You

She’s late. She’d texted earlier and told me to meet her in the library at ten. I was here at exactly nine forty-five, it’s now ten fifteen and there’s still no sign of her. I’ll give her ten more minutes before I leave. I’m not one to be stood up, and Gwen would be the first woman to do it.

Just as I’m about to call it, a petite blonde woman strolls up to the table I’m sitting at. Amber, or Ashley, or was it Amy. Fuck, I don’t remember. She holds a stack of books in her arms and her lips are curled up into a big smile.

“Ryker, hey. I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Amber/Amy says. I offer a small smile as to not be a complete dick.

“Hey…”

“Amy,” she doesn’t even look offended that I don’t remember her name. Right, Amy. I knew it… kind of. Amy continues to smile; she looks slightly nervous which is something I’m used to when it comes to women.

Any woman that speaks to me usually seems a bit on edge, unless they’re plastered. Then they’re a lot more confident. I’d like to think it’s because I look intimidating which could definitely be part of it, but mostly I think it’s because I’m an Elite.

The only woman I know that hasn’t acted like they were scared to talk to me is Gwen. She only ever looks at me like she’s pissed off or like she wants to set me on fire. Clearly, I’ve made a great impression the few times we’ve actually spoken.

“You busy tonight?” Amy asks, shifting from one leg to the other as she looks anywhere but at me. I gesture to the table where Wuthering Heights sits in the middle.

“Studying,” I say tersely. Amy nods, but she doesn’t leave which is what I was hoping she’d do.

I don’t normally sleep with the same woman twice; it makes them think we’re more than we are. I’m not looking for anything serious, and I’m certainly not looking to be tied down to some chick right now. Most of the women I’ve slept with know this about me, but there’s always a few that think they’ll be the exception.

“Maybe when you’re done, we can…” Amy begins, but she’s interrupted by a familiar snarky brunette with long curls framing her face as Gwen steps up to the table. Amy looks from Gwen to my face, likely trying to gauge my reaction to some girl sitting at my table.

Gwen looks up at Amy, then to me, her face falling into an emotion that looks close to disgust.

“Am I interrupting?” Gwen asks sardonically.

“No.”

I keep my gaze locked on Gwen who’s looking at me with a bland expression on her face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Amy look between the two of us before hiking the stack of books up in her arms and holding her head high.

“Right, well, see you around, Ryker,” Amy says, almost in the form of a question. I don’t even answer as she slowly slinks away.

Sure, Amy is hot. But she’s clingy. I knew the morning after we fucked, and she wouldn’t leave when I told her to. I figured that would be the last time I’d see her, but here we are.

Gwen finally peels her eyes away from my face, setting a copy of Wuthering Heights in front of her, along with a notebook and a pen. She sets her phone next to them, face up as she stares at the display, likely already counting down the minutes until we’re done with this.

“Can we get this over with? I’d rather be,” she pauses as if thinking of her next words carefully, “anywhere else.”

Damn, if one things for sure, Gwen will always say exactly what she’s thinking. No bullshit.

“You’re the one that was late. I’ve been sitting here for a half hour,” Gwen shoots me a glare.

“I’m here now, aren’t I? So quit whining and let’s just begin,” she opens her notebook and clicks her pen, writing something on the paper before looking back at me, flipping her long brown hair behind her shoulder.

The thin strap of her tank top catches my attention as the cardigan she’s wearing slips down her tan shoulder.

Her blue eyes stick out in contrast to the black tank top she’s wearing, along with the brown of her long hair. Even though she looks like she wants to rip my eyes out of their sockets, she looks calm. Annoyed, but tough. Like nothing bothers her, except for me of course.

Setting the pen down, Gwen opens her mouth to speak but I interrupt her.

“Are you going to act like you hate me the whole time, or are you going to drop this little façade?” I ask, enjoying the rage that is so obviously building inside her.

“It’s not a façade. I actually hate you,” she states tersely, looking so sure of herself, and I don’t know why it’s so attractive.

“Really? Because-” she cuts me off.

“As much as I’d love to sit here and discuss the list of reasons I despise you, can we move on and start this stupid project?”

Her eyes don’t leave mine, and a small smirk plays at my lips. I nod.

---