Page 3 of The Boy I Hate

2

ChapterTwo

Samantha grabbeda can of sparkling water out of her fridge and looked around her apartment. It felt… empty. Even though it was smothered in drawings, and cluttered with a mishmash of furniture. She pulled in a breath, downing half the can as she kicked her shoes to the center oftheroom.

In a way, she was grateful Steven wasn’t going on the trip. Not that she wouldn’t cry with relief if he suddenly changed his mind- but she could really use some time tothink.

Her gallery opening hadn’t gone at all as planned. A month had passed, yet she still didn’t feel herself. Sure, plenty of people had attended, making it appear to be a huge, beautiful success to all who were watching. Reporters were sent out to cover the event, even a local photographer who was highly regarded for his skill. They were all singing her praises, taking pictures, and telling her how much they admired her creativity. But not a single person had actually wanted to purchase her art. Sure, there were a couple of offers from passersby—a couple of lowball offers that would barely cover the cost of the materials it took to create them… But each piece took more than a month to complete. More than a month of all the free time she could spare after her waitressing job at Donovan’s. She needed more than that. More than a lowball offer and some flattery… She needed real money, a huge “fuck you” in the form of a paycheck, to everyone who doubted her andherwork.

Herworth.

Even Steven. She’d known for some time that he didn’t agree with her chosen career… and granted, he’d been the ear to her frustrations for the past two years…but a slab of concrete? The words still pinched at her heart and made herfeelill.

Without thinking, she set the half-drunk can on the table and walked down the hall to stand at the door to her studio. She turned the handle, letting the door crack open before giving it a firm shove to swing wide on its hinges. Her eyes landed on the clay-spotted sheet that hung over the sculpture in the center of the room. The one she’d worked on for three months without coming upforair.

It began the day her best friend called to say she was getting married. No hello, no greeting of any kind before the words exploded like a bomb through the receiver. “We’re gettingmarried!”

The news hit Samantha in a weird place. That grumpy, raw spot in the middle of her chest that she never wanted to admit existed. The place where jealousy, hurt, and discomfort twisted in intricate knots. She didn’t know why, because it wasn’t as though she begrudged Renee’s happiness, but she would be lying if she said the first emotion that rolled around in her stomach wasn’tsadness.

Renee and Phin’s engagement happened so fast. Renee had only moved to New York six months before, and now she was getting married. Which meant that, as Samantha knew all too well, Renee was never coming back to LA. Their friendship would dwindle, the way relationships always did when people moved apart, and Samantha would lose the only friend who ever really understood her. The one person she could be herself with, who knew her battle with a wild heart, and all the things she dreamed ofdoing.

She hung up the phone that day in shock. Almost with grief, as she made it back to her studio. But she didn’t pick up the pieces where she’d left off. No, she started something new. The sculpture took on a life of its own. Samantha’s hands moved through the clay with a passion she hadn’t felt in years, and the fire inside her didn’t stop formonths.

Every day she continued to work. Adding, sculpting, and perfecting it…and working through all the emotions and disappointments that had been churning through her blood for thepastyear.

She spent more time on that one sculpture than she any other piece she’d ever created.Slab of concrete.She pushed the words down to her stomach and flicked off thelight.

Her home, which was once filled with the constant commotion of her best friend’s personality, was now empty. Renee’s bedroom across the hall would never again be filled with laughter, nor the stinky ballet shoes Samantha always complained about. It was funny how the thing she thought she disliked most about Renee could be one of the things she longed for most when she was gone. But in her heart of hearts, she never thought they’d be apart. Never thought she’d be more than a thirty-minute drive away from resting her head on her best friend’sshoulder.

Samantha grabbed the suitcase out of the closet and dragged it down the hall, determined not to think about it anymore. Sulking wouldn’t bring her friend back, and in truth, she was happy for Renee. It was time to face the sad reality that at the tender age of twenty-three, her childhood days were over. Her best friend was gone, would be married in a couple of weeks, and Samantha’s dreams of supporting herself through her art werefading.

She needed to come up with a plan for her future, a real plan—because making a living doing something she loved was a fool’s quest. She never believed it before, but after last month’s opening, she realized her sculptures were a fluttering dream, and when she came back from NY she would pack up her studio and begin working on a real career… The thing that would pay her bills, ‘something grown up andrespectable.’

“It’s time to grow up, Samantha.” She squeezed her eyes shut as moisture threatened to seep from her faulty lids. “It’s now ornever.”

She unzipped her luggage, muttering under her breath that she should be happy. She had a boyfriend who loved her. A hard working, driven man who’d been dedicated to her happiness since middle school. But there was a sort of loss that settled deep in her gut when she thought about this beingtheend.

Steven was her first boyfriend. Her first love, her first date. She knew all there was to know about him, and he knew most things there was to know about her. She loved all those things about their relationship. She loved the sweet expressions that came on people’s faces when they heard they’d been together since high school. She loved his stability. Hisdedication…

But there were times she hated all those things. Times when she longed for what Renee had. That sweep-you-off-your-feet, irresponsible love she’d seen in movies. The love she heard in Renee’s voice every time her friend spoke about herfiancé.

A soft breeze washed across Samantha’s face, causing the sheer white curtains to flutter and the tears to cool and dry in place on her cheeks. She placed her bag on the center of her bed, wiped over her face, then fished her cell from her pocket. She needed to call her best friend and break the news. It was late, yes, past one in the morning in New York, but the news would eat her alive if shedidn’ttell.

She dialed the number, dreading the conversation ahead of her. Dreading the fact that she’d have to defend Steven’s choices—even when she wasn’t sure she liked themherself.

“Sam!” Her best friend answered on the third ring. “Hang on! Let me get to someplacequiet.”

Samantha nodded, thankful for her best friend’s fast-paced life so she could compose herself. “Sure.” She walked across the room, listening to muffled noises that sounded like they came from inside a bar. Laughter, clinking glasses, and chatter. She toyed with the tattered edge of her dresser, as her heart fluttered with anticipation of how this conversationwouldgo.

“Hey!” Renee finally said, out of breath. “Sorry. Opening weekend, things are crazy here! How are you? Your dress finally came in! I can’t wait for you to tryiton!”

Samantha smiled as the words flew from her friend’s mouth. Loving, enthusiastic, even so early in the morning. She sat gently on the side of the bed and took a breath. “It’s good! I’m packing right now, getting everything ready for the long trip.” She licked her lips. “But that’s actually why I’m calling. There’s been a change of plans.” She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the action would give her strength. “Before you go all crazy on me—I’m still coming—I mean, of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, rising from the bed before she lost her nerve. “It’s Steven. He got an internship with Connor and Associates. It’s a dream come true. A once-in-a-lifetimeopportunity—”

“Sam, what are you trying totellme?”

Samantha cringed, biting her nails. “I’m coming alone.” The line went silent, and she could almost feel Renee gritting her teeth. “I wanted to tell you so you could changereservations.”

“Are youkiddingme?”

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