Page 38 of The Boy I Hate

The server came then, breaking up their conversation to check on their meals. “Everything okay over here?” she asked, topping off their mugs with freshcoffee.

But when neither of them spoke, she left for the back room again, and Samantha turned to face him. It was as though all the anger and frustration she’d kept bottled inside came exploding out of her. “I remember a few more things,” she began, her chin held as high as she could manage. “You were a player. A cheater, and someone who cared about nothing buthimself.”

He took a long sip of coffee, his expression hardening before her very eyes. It was like a Tristan she’d never seen before. A Tristan she never wanted to see again. He pulled out his wallet and placed a couple of twenties on the table before getting up to leave. “You’re right. That’s exactly who I am.Exactly.”

She cringed, her heart aching because she knew she’d hurt him. She’d meant to, even though he’d done nothing but tell her the truth… Though now she felt like a complete bitch. “Tristan,wait!”

But he didn’t listen. His large legs had already carried him halfway across the restaurant, far away from her and her tongue that had lashed outtohurt.

15

ChapterFifteen

When they finally got back tothe Mustang, Samantha was in a foul mood. Partly because she hadn’t slept in days, but also because she deeply regretted what she’d said. The server had meddled so much, all the memories she’d tried to forget about were rising to the surface. Memories she hadn’t thought about for a long time. Memories she’d buried deep for goodreason.

As soon as she buckled herself into her seat, she bent forward to fish her iPod out of her bag and start a new book. It was one she’d listened to at least a thousand times but always found comforting. Like a threadbare old t-shirt, or a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup.Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone—the story about the boy wholived.

She closed her eyes, listening to the voice that had lulled her to sleep on too many occasions to count, and tried to forget about the past. To forget about everything. To not worry about the what-ifs, or the reasons he didn’t remember. But to focus on an epic tale about good vs. evil. About power, and temptation, andgrowingup.

Before long, a good four chapters into the story, something changed. She felt the car slow, decreasing in speed at a steady rate that caused panic to lurch in her chest. She quickly opened her eyes, sure they hadn’t been on the road long enough to justify stopping, and realized they were pulling off to the side of the road—on a pitch black two-lane highway—in the middle of nowhere. Samantha pulled the ear buds from her ears and straightened. “What are you doing?” she asked. “Don’t tell me you’re going to go to the bathroom outthere.”

But there was something different about the way they were moving, like something was wrong, and a sinking feeling settled in the bottom of her gut. “We ran out of gas,didn’twe?”

The car rolled to a full stop, and Tristan, who still hadn’t said a word, put it in park. “I filled up less than threehoursago.”

Samantha shoved her iPod back in her purse and swallowed. A cold draft rushed over her face and neck as Tristan got out of the car. She quickly followed after him, wrapped in her red wool blanket. “I can’t believe this! I told you this would happen. I knew we could run outofgas.”

He lifted the hood and propped it open. “For the last time, we didn’t run out of gas!” He pulled his cell from his pocket and flipped on the flashlight. “Something’s wrong. It’s just too dark toseewhat.”

He turned around to sit against the car, then held his phone up in the air and moved it side to side looking for a signal. “Shit! There’s noservice.”

Samantha closed her eyes, not allowing herself to panic. “What are we goingtodo?”

He zipped his jacket all the way up to his chin, closed the hood, then finally looked at her. “You’re going to get back into the car. I’m going to go try tofindhelp.”

“Like hell I am! I’m comingwithyou.”

“Sammie.” He closed his eyes, his head lulling back to his shoulders. She knew what he was going to say. That it was too dangerous, that he was big and heroic, that he was going to take care of her like the male chauvinistic ass that he was, but instead, he surprised her by looking up again. She waited for him to speak, to tell her why she couldn’t come, but he said nothing. His blue eyes reached hers, making her feet unstable. He finally shook his head, as though not sure what he was getting himself into, and turned on hisheels. “Fine.”

It took only a moment for her to recover, to realize she’d actually won the argument, and to hurry after him. How had she won so easily? Why did Tristan Montgomery keep surprising her at every turn? She wasn’t sure of the answer; all she knew was that her teeth were already chattering and she had left her warm jacket back in the car. “Where are we? How close are we to thenexttown?”

“Iowa,” he answered. But that was all he said. Because he didn’t know how far they were to the next town. He didn’t know anythingatall.

Samantha took her phone from her pocket, and held it up to illuminate their path. “Has this ever happened to you before?” sheasked.

“No.”

“Are you sure we’re not outofgas?”

“Yes.”

“How doyouknow?”

Silence.

“Tristan, how do you know?” A chill ran up her spine, though it wasn’t from the cold this time. It was because of him. He raked his fingers through his hair, giving away his stress, and that made her even more nervous. He was the guy who let everything roll off his shoulders. Who didn’t give a shit.Butnow—

“Because I know my car,” hefinallysaid.

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