Page 19 of The Boy I Hate

“Thank you,” she whispered, but before she reached the top of the stairs, she turned around and looked back to the living room. He still had his suitcase lifted to the top of his shoulder, his hair shining from the sunlight that came in through the opened door, and she thought he might be the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen inherlife.

* * *

Presentday

“What are you writing?”Tristan asked, his voice breaking through the silence of theMustang.

Samantha’s heart lurched in her chest and she slapped the laptop closed. She turned to face him, panic in her face as she tried to comprehend his words. “What was that?” She put her feet on the floor, wishing the top was still down so she could stand and clear her head, but she was trapped. Trapped with the only other man she’d ever kissed besidesSteven.

He doesn’t remember.He doesn’t remember any of it.The thought should have comforted her, but it did nothing. It did nothingatall.

He lifted his chin to her laptop, likely curious by her odd behavior. “What are you writing?” he asked again. “You’ve been staring at your laptop for overanhour.”

She cleared her throat. “Have I?” But her voice pitched a little higher than usual and she took a drink of water. “I was just…thinking.”

“About?”

She bit her bottom lip and glanced out the window. “About Renee.” It was a lie, but it sounded reasonableenough.

He immediately nodded, but took his sunglasses from his face and threw them to the dashboard. “Tell me about it.” But there was a tone in his voice that caught her attention—he was worried about something—what? Shewasn’tsure.

Samantha’s shoulders relaxed a little and she leaned forward to put her laptop away. “She moved to New York only last November, and now she’s getting married. It’s all happening so fast…” Her words trailed off, because she’d already said more than she intended. She hadn’t talked to anyone about Renee since she heard the news. Even Steven, because he was never interested in anything to do with her best friend’s life. But why she felt compelled to talk to Tristanbaffledher.

“I guess they’re in love,” he said, causing her heart to lurch before she turned aroundagain.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Have youmethim?”

“Yeah.” He looked over his shoulder, changing lanes, then met her eyes for the first time the whole trip. “A couple of months ago. He’s a good guy, Iguess.”

“Youguess?”

“Yeah, Iguess.”

He didn’t say more, and she didn’t press it. She turned toward the window and adjusted her seat belt. Nervous flutters beat against the inside of her stomach, but she took a deep breath, and tried toignorethem.

“What about you?” he asked. “Are youinlove?”

She squared her shoulders, surprised as hell by the question. She hated relationship talk. Hated people butting into her love life… But she lifted her head and looked him dead in the eye, almost asking him to challenge her. “Yes. Actually,Iam.”

He squinted slightly and reached up to pull down the sun visor. “And where is your knight in shiningarmor?”

There it was. The judgment that was unmistakable. She turned to the window, hating the way it made her feel. Because it made her feel insecure. Made her feel slightly angry with Steven for the first time since he’d told her about his internship. She pulled in a deep breath and tried to sound confident. “Work,” she confessed, her stomach dropping a fewinches.

“Well that’s unfortunate,” Tristan stated, but there was a tone in his voice that almost sounded like he waspissedoff.

She turned back around, slightly confused. “How so?” she questioned, disturbed by the fact she’d been so consumed with the conversation she hadn’t realized they’d pulled off thefreeway.

He pulled into a parking space, pushed down the emergency brake, then turned to face her, his expression hard. “His priorities are in the wrongplace.”

She shook her head, uncomfortable with the lecture-like tone he was using. Her chest inflated and she grew a little taller in her seat. “He landed one of the most coveted positions of his graduating class. I would say his priorities are right where they needtobe.”

Tristan shrugged, unbuckled his seat belt, and got out of the car. “If it were me, there would be no way I’d let the woman I was in love with drive cross-country with a man I’d never met.” He slammed the door behind him and moved in the direction of therestaurant.

“Where are you going?” she shouted through the rolled-downwindow.

“To eat,” he said without turningaround.

“But I havesnacks!”

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