Page 17 of Hate To Love You

“Well, my sister is roommates with a girl named Guinevere. Maybe that’s her?” Holland questions. I shrug again.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Why?” Pat wonders.

“She’s my partner,” the guys look at me, waiting for me to continue. I roll my eyes. Nosey assholes. “We got into it one day during a debate and our professor seems to think our differing opinions will make for a great project.”

I take another sip from the water bottle in my hand. I still can’t see the logic in it. Our differing opinions are only going to hinder the process, but whatever.

“Is she hot?” Mason asks. Holland slaps the back of his head, causing Mason to rub the spot. “Ow! What the hell?”

Holland shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“She’s infuriating is what she is. She’s got a big mouth and an even bigger attitude. I don’t know whether to be pissed or turned on.”

Pat snorts. “Dude, just tell her you’re an Elite. She’ll fall in line just like the rest of them.”

Yeah, you would think. Except, Gwen isn’t like the rest of them. She knows who I am, and she doesn’t give a shit. Plus, I need her. I can’t piss her off or make her run.

“Yeah, maybe,” is all I say, ending this topic of conversation. “Anyway, I’ll be at the next practice.”

Most of us have been on the Ellington rugby team since freshman year. We needed something to let off steam and distract us from all the shit happening in our lives.

We were interested in hockey, but then we realized none of us can skate. Mason broke his wrist after he fell on it, and Pat left with a broken pinky finger. Suffice to say, we were not built for hockey. So, rugby it was.

Rugby’s a tough sport, but at least it’s on dry land and not on ice. We took to it pretty quickly, and we’ve been playing ever since.

Pat nods, acknowledging my statement. “Good,” is all he says, effectively ending the conversation. Thank God.

—————————

Saturdays are the best. I get to sleep in, and I don’t have to worry about shit. Except today, since I’m meeting with the she devil herself to start working on this project from hell.

I’ve already gone for my run, showered, shaved, eaten breakfast and it’s only nine. The guys are still sleeping, leaving me to my thoughts.

It’s only about eight weeks into the semester, and the weather here in Connecticut is starting to cool down quite a bit. I like the cooler weather. I think I run naturally hot, so the cold weather keeps me regulated.

It’s beautiful here in the fall. The trees are all different colors, vibrant reds, greens, yellows, and oranges. The campus is decorated with Halloween decorations and all of the houses on our block are decked out with extravagant props.

Every year, the Elite throw a massive Halloween party that all the students come to, and every year we regret it the next day. The house is a mess, and there are random objects strewn around everywhere. Last year, I found a used condom and some chicks panties on my bed. I threw those sheets out immediately.

Since then, we’ve decided to lock our bedroom doors at every party so no one can mistake one of them as their own personal sex room.

Each year, we choose a group of freshmen to come up with a theme, get the decorations, send out invites, and basically take care of all the miniscule things while the elder members approve every move they make. It’s a nice system.

Halloween is in two weeks, and I haven’t heard anything from anyone which is causing me to be more on edge than usual. Not only am I thinking about the party, but I’m also thinking about the fact that my first actual session outside of the classroom with Gwen is in an hour.

I send a group text to Mason, Holland, and Pat about the party planning, and pack up to head to the library.

Chapter 12

Ryker

The library is huge, with rows and rows of books of all genres. It’s an old building, and the smell of old books and years of use is strong. There are circular tables scattered around the large space, a row of computers against the far wall, which seem out of place with how new they are.

The cathedral like ceiling is beautiful with old artwork spread across it. The tall windows let in some light, but not much because they are all stained with artwork.

I’m sitting at a table in the corner of the library by myself, waiting for a woman that I can’t stand but also can’t seem to get out of my head.