Page 53 of The Boy I Hate

She swallowed hard, knowing this wasn’t a good idea. “She’s going to know the second she sees them. She’llsenseit.”

He only shook his head, gripping the base of his skull between thumb and forefinger. “That’s what I keep telling Mom, but she’s stubborn. She thinks they’ll be fine. I’m just waiting for everything to fallapart.”

He then looked to her face, searching her eyes. For what she wasn’t sure, but the vulnerability she witnessed made her want to give him everything. A moment later he stood, lifting her up from the floor and into his arms. He sat with her again in the chair beside the bed, gently rocking her. “Don’t ever lie to me, Samantha,” he whispered. “Promiseme.”

There was something so heartbreaking about him. So sad. Because she could almost see the little boy who lived inside him. The boy who was sorrowful to learn that his father wasn’t the man he’d always idolized. That he’d cheated on Tristan’s mother. Cheated on their family. “I promise,” Samanthawhisperedback.

There were tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over. He grabbed her face, his fingers wrapping around her neck. He looked like he wanted to say something. To do something, but he wasn’t sure what. She searched his eyes, silently asking him what he needed, because in that moment, she would doanything.

He finally settled his mouth upon hers, hard, rough, and crushing, as though he needed her body to pull him back from his grief. From the sadness inside that was too hard for him to bear. She kissed him, giving him everything she had. All her hope, all her strength, allherlove.

He made love to her again, this time with his whole body. He kissed every inch of her, spilled his seed inside her belly, until his entire weight collapsed on top of her. Heavy, strong, beautiful. She wrapped her arms around him and took all of it. Because something between them had shifted. He’d shared a part of himself that he’d never shared with anyone else. He’d shared his secret, his burden, and she grabbed hold of it knowing she’d never letitgo.

They fell asleep a moment later, tangled in each other’s arms. Exhausted. Wasted. And everything between them foreveraltered.

22

ChapterTwenty-two

It was still darkwhen she opened her eyes again. The bed was cold beside her, and she instantly knew something was wrong. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she found Tristan sitting on the edge of the bed, looking off into the distance. She instinctively reached out to him, and he turnedaround.

He looked tired, thoughtful. “Did I wake you?” hewhispered.

She pushed herself up on her elbows, yawning “What timeisit?”

“Four in the morning,” he replied. “Go back tosleep.”

But there was something in his voice that frightened her. Something soft, uncertain, that told her what he said wasn’t at all what he wanted. “Is something wrong?” she asked softly, sitting forward to gently rubhisback.

“Nah,” he whispered. He hesitated, only a second, but it was long enough. It was as though he had made up his mind about something. He turned around to face her, laying his knee up on the mattress to get comfortable. His face was partially covered by shadow, and he cleared his throat before he began. “I’m going to ask you a question,” he said seriously, “and I want you to be completely honestwithme.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she froze, because she didn’t have the faintest idea what had brought this on. What had made him wake so late at night and look so heavy. She nodded though, because the tone of his voice told her it was important. Because the tone of his voice told her that how she answered meant a whole lottohim.

“How have I ever made you look like a fool?” he asked then. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t emotional, but there was something in his voice that was somewhere inbetween.

She pulled in a breath, then looked down to her hands and shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talkingabout.”

He turned completely around, his face now illuminated by the moonlight coming in from the window. “You said it in the car. On the side of the road. You said not to make you look like a fool again. What didyoumean?”

She hesitated, but he grabbed hold of her hands, forcing her to look up at him before letting go. “If we’re going to do this, I don’t want anythingbetweenus.”

Her throat was so tight she could barely swallow, but she knew he was right. She had to talk to him, to get everything out in the open. Because if their past wasn’t put out there, they had no shot at afuture.

She met his eyes, forcing herself to look at him even though it terrified her. “After the cabin,” she said, playing with the edge of the sheet between her fingers, suddenly feeling all the emotions of a broken sixteen-year-old girl come crashing to her shoulders. “I saw you with a girl at the pool table. I thought you sawme,but—”

He suddenly closed his eyes, then made a noise, deep in the back of his throat, cutting her off. His head fell back to his shoulders, and he made a sound that could have been a laugh, or a cough. “That,” he whispered. “That.” But this time it was with a hint of amusement. He was quiet a moment, then he lifted his head to look at her, his blue eyes brilliant even in the faint light of night, as he stared straight into her soul. “I’m a jealous man, Samantha,” he finally stated, as though that simple sentence was all that wasneeded.

She reached for his face, trying to understand what he meant, but hecontinued.

“I wanted to make youjealoustoo.”

She shook her head, not comprehending why he would do that, but then she replayed the night over in her head and she remembered. She covered her mouth with a hand and her throat went dry. “You saw Steven kiss me, didn’t you?” He didn’t respond, but the look in his eye told her that was exactly what happened. “Oh,myGod.”

“Samantha…” But he said it in a way that dismissed their past. He said it in a way that said it didn’tmatter.

But it did. “When he kissed me, I was shocked, but I let it happen. Partially because I was young and didn’t know how to push him away. He was my friend. One of my best friends, and I didn’t want to hurt him. And partially because I wanted to know if kissing him felt even half as good as it felt kissing you. It didn’t. Itneverdid—”

He grabbed hold of her face, his eyes penetrating hers, his lips millimeters away. “If he didn’t kiss you like I did, if you didn’t feel with him the way you did with me, why were you still with him when I came back to visit? Why were you still with him six yearslater?”

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