Page 39 of The Boy I Hate

“Oh God,” she whispered. Only to herself, but that didn’tmatter.

He stopped dead in his tracks. Turned around, and looked her dead in the eye. “Do you have aproblem?”

She clenched her jaw, telling herself to be quiet, but she couldn’t. “Yeah. Actually, I do.” She lifted her chin, higher than she felt confident, and took a step toward him. “I’m supposed to be at my best friend’s bachelorette party in two days.Two. And you’re giving me the cold shoulder and saying things like, ‘I knowmycar.’”

He laughed under his breath and pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eye sockets. “What do you want me to say,Samantha?What?”

“I don’t know! I want you to give me a real fuckinganswer!”

He snapped! Picked up a rock, and threw it into the dark forest—so hard that the sound echoed through the secluded night. He took a breath, as though frustrated and out of control, as though he was trying to compose himself enough tofaceher.

He finally turned around, his jaw tight and clenched, but so much emotion was etched on his face that her eyes immediately went blurry with regret. It was as though a thick blanket smothered the Tristan she’d known all her life. His confidence, his smile, his easy nature. “It’s my fault, is that what you want me to say? That it’s my fuckingfault?”

Tears rushed to her nose and throat. She couldn’t bear to see him this way. “No,” she said. “No, that isn’t itatall.”

He gripped his forehead and turned around again. “I should have never agreed to this. I should havesaidno.”

She froze, her heart thumping. “Agreed to what?” she asked, standingstill.

He turned around, squeezed his eyes shut as if not realizing the words had come from his mouth. “Nothing.”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around her belly, not letting it go. “What did you agree to,Tristan?”

He remained silent, giving her all the answer she needed. She looked down to her feet, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. “Renee talked you into this, didn’t she? You don’t want to be here any more thanIdo.”

“Samantha—”

But she shook her head,stoppinghim.

“Look—I’m frustrated, too.” He moved toward her. “But we’re in thistogether.”

Emotion quickly gathered in her chest, and she clenched her arms at her side. “Iknow.”

“I didn’t mean toscareyou.”

She nodded, her chinquivering.

But scared wasn’t the feeling that was cutting her like a knife. It was something else. Something heartbreakingly difficult for her to admit to. Because hearing that he didn’t want to be there sent a chill over herentirebody.

He came closer still and draped his heavy jacket around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Samantha.” He tightened the jacket around her shivering body, fastening it at the bottom before zipping it up to her chin. But he didn’t move away. He stayed there a second too long, his thumb by her chin, causing all the air to expel from herlungs.

She looked up to his throat, only inches from her lips. She wanted to kiss it, to wrap her arms around his large body and have him hold her. To hold him. It was so cold she could see her breath. So cold their breaths mingled together, and for some reason, she steppedcloser.

She wasn’t sure if it was his warmth that drew her in. The heat that radiated from his muscles and bones. Or if it was the pain in his eyes. It seemed to say a thousand words all on its own. That he was sorry, that he was scared, too. But it wasn’t an average “I’m sorry.” It was a sorry from a man who carried the world on his shoulders—who took the blame for everything, even when it wasn’t his fault. Her mind screamed to move away. To not get too close to the man who had shattered her heart after only one night, to get away before it was too late, but she couldn’t. She craved to be close to him, even though she knew it would bring nothing but pain to too manypeople.

He placed his hand on her hip, wrapping his fingers around her lower back and exerting pressure. As though he needed her just as much as she needed him. As though he’d given up on resisting her and the gravity that pulled themtogether.

She lifted her chin, knowing it was wrong, but knowing she couldn’t stop it. Whatever was between them was stronger than her will. Stronger than her conscious. But as their lips touched for the briefest moment, a set of dull headlights began to shine in the distance. As though a higher being had rushed in to save her fromherself.

Tristan turned around, clearing his throat as if he himself had been caught in the same spell. He took his phone out of his pocket and waved it overhead. “Hey!” he yelled. “Hey!Overhere!”

A moment later, down the long flat road, came a beat up old van with a million stickers on the windows. The door opened, and a woman with a large pregnant belly hopped down to the road. She rested her hands on her lower back, exaggerating the ripe, swollen shape, and shined a bright flashlight over their faces,blindingthem.

“Now what in the devil’s name are you two doin’ all the wayouthere?”

16

ChapterSixteen

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