Page 22 of The Boy I Hate

The realization left her questioning everything. Could she like a boy who had more friends than he knew what to do with? A guy who was never alone, not even for tenminutes?

She continued pulling sleeping bags and pillows from the back of the van, anxious to be done with the task so she could go inside, but it was difficult when the other side of her was hanging on every wordtheysaid.

The Tristan she’d met alone in the woods wasn’t like this. He was honest and open, and so much deeper than the guy leaning against the van. She didn’t know if she could take it. If she could stand by and watch girls wrap themselves in his arms. Because right now she felt insecure and vulnerable, and that wasn’t a feeling she liked very much. She was a girl who prided herself on being reasonable, on being mature. But one kiss from Tristan Montgomery had her insides screaming “bitch” when a tall brunette stretched up on tiptoe to whisper inTristan’sear.

“It’s my birthday,” she said rather loudly. “My parents bought a keg. Come overlater?”

Tristan only laughed, but he did something interesting. He looked over at Samantha, their eyes locking for brief time and he shook his head. “I don’t know, I’mprettybeat.”

If she hadn’t been looking for it, she would have missed it, but it was long enough for her heart to soar. For the message to be clear. He wasn’t interested in keg girl. Whatever happened in the woods had meant as much to him as it hadtoher.

She took the last piece of luggage from the van feeling comforted, but very much needing togetaway.

Mr. Montgomery was her saving grace. He came to stand by the van, and pulled down the back to slam it shut. He rested his hand on Samantha’s head and ruffled her hair. “I got this kiddo. Why don’t you run inside and findRenee?”

She only nodded, still too shaken by the shared glance to trust her voice. Without looking back, she turned toward the house and walked up to the steps, leaving Tristan and his party crowd reluctantlyalone.

9

ChapterNine

Six yearsearlier

As promised,Mr. Montgomery ordered pizza as soon as everyone was finished unloading the van—enough to feed a small army—or half of West Valley’s senior class. But that was how it was at the Montgomery home. Sometimes it was over half the football team, more than twenty-five jocks and their girlfriends, filling the great-room and lounging on the sectional in the corner. Today, however, there were only ten, which filled the home with rowdy laughter that sounded liketwicethat.

Renee sat at the bar with Samantha and Steven, wrapped in a purple blanket she’d taken from the cabin. It was far too noisy for any of them to hold a conversation, so they sat in silence, trying to ignore Tristan, and his friends who seemed to monopolize theentireroom.

Samantha didn’t mind—because it took the attention away from her. Away from the guilt, the jealousy, and the desire she was sure could be seen on her face. Because her mind was preoccupied with something else. Two somethings, actually. One: she needed to figure out what to tell Renee. Because “I let your brother stick his tongue in my throat” didn’t have the right ring to it. And two: she needed to apologize to Steven. Because that’s what it would be. Anapology.

She couldn’t be the girl he wanted her to be. She couldn’t like him the way he wanted her to, and she knew that fact would hurt him. She would say it as gently as she could, hoping with all hope they’d still have a friendship when it was over, but she was worried. It was all too much for a girl to take. Too much responsibility, too much stress. So much so that she thought she might have a nervous breakdown, right there in Mrs. Montgomery’skitchen.

She picked up another slice of pizza, hoping to dull her emotions with carbohydrates, but Steven’s phone buzzed on the counter at that moment. He slid open the call, and held one finger to his ear as he excused himself to the front porch. Everyone was distracted, watching TV or playing pool, and Samantha knew it was the perfect opportunity to talk. She picked up her plate from the counter, then tossed it into the trashcan, intending tofollow.

She found Steven sitting on the front sidewalk, still on the phone. Far enough from the house that the distance offered privacy from the rest of the party. Samantha sat down beside him, her feet stretched out to the road, waiting for him to finish hisconversation.

“Okay, okay…” He held up one finger. “Yeah, I’ll wait outside.” He said goodbye, looked over at Samantha, and slid his cell back into his pocket. But he didn’t say a word for a good moment. Just stared at her. As though they both waited for the other to speak. A moment passed, and he turned in her direction, resting his elbow on his thigh. “Sorry, that wasmymom.”

She nodded, though her throat tightened with anticipation of what to say next, because she had no idea where to begin. She’d never had a boyfriend before, but she imagined this felt much like breaking up. Ironic, considering they’d never even had afirstdate.

She worried her bottom lip, unable to pull the words from her tongue. But she finally turned to face him, her eyesintense.

“How long have you been here?” she asked, her hands in the warmth of her hoodie’s pocket, pulling at bits of lint to calm her nerves. She closed her eyes, knowing she’d messed things up already. Feeling the tension rush in all around them. “I mean, before wegothome?”

He shrugged a little, but his brows furrowed slightly as if sensing her discomfort. “About an hour. I walked here from Mr. Chavez’s class—he wanted help setting up for fallsemester.”

“Oh.” She nodded, taking a deep breath before looking down to the asphalt. Not surprised, because this was such a typical Steven thing to do. He was the only kid she’d ever met who still went to school during summer. But she admired that about him. She admired a lotabouthim.

He turned to face her, swallowing hard before opening his mouth again. “Did you give any thought to myquestion?”

She looked straight into his eyes, knowing without a doubt he was referring to the proposition he’d given her before she’d left. About becoming his girlfriend junior year, about crossing the bridge from friends, to so much more than that. She looked down to the pavement, to the rocky texture that blurred through unshed tears. This was her chance to speak up, to say she was sorry if she hurt him, but that she couldn’t do it. Because she was falling for someone else, someone who was unexpected, but the exact opposite of everything she ever thought she wanted. She chewed her inner cheek, unable to think properly. “Aboutthat—”

“Samantha,” he interrupted, taking her hands in his and squeezing. “Before you say anything, know this—you don’t like me as much as I like you. I know that. But you haven’t really given me achance.”

“Steven,I—”

But before she could finish her sentence, he grabbed hold of her face and kissed her. Firm and hard—urgent…messy.

The exact opposite ofTristan.

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