Page 10 of The Boy I Hate

“How deep is it?” she finally asked, as she dropped her towel to the edge of the dock. Her black bathing suit was simple, nothing too sexy or revealing, though she still had to stop herself from crossing her arms at her chest for more protection. Samantha had a curvaceous body. Large breasts and hips to match, but she was incredibly self-conscious. She’d been aware at an early age that her curves were a distraction. Hyper-aware, even in sixth grade, when the boys startedogling.

“Not deep.” He stood up in the water, indicating it hit him mid-stomach. “Jump,already!”

Before she could talk herself out of it, knowing she’d be much more comfortable shielded by the dark water, she held her breath and jumped out as far as she could manage. But instantly, she started sinking. Her eyes bulged and her arms flailed about in panic. She desperately tried to get back to the surface, but the more she struggled the deeper she sank. She couldn’t get her head above water—not high enough to take a fullbreath.

Before she knew what was happening, Tristan’s arms wrapped around her belly and he jetted them both toward the surface. He wrapped one arm around her neck, his body like a floatation device, keeping her above water as he swam on his back toward a large fallenbranch.

He helped her up to sit, where she coughed and sputtered, the water she’d almost drowned in expelling from her throat andlungs.

“You can’t swim, can you?” he asked, out of breath. “You can’tfuckingswim!”

She coughed out the last bit of water, clinging to the branch and pulling in as much air as she could manage. “You lied to me! How did you do that? You were standing, Isawyou!”

“There was a branch—” But then he smoothed the wet hair from her cheek and examined her face. “I didn’t know, Sammie. Areyouokay?”

She pushed at his chest, startled by his closeness, startled by the fact that she thought he’d be laughing, but he wasn’t. He looked worried, if anything, almostscared.

“Areyouokay?”

She didn’t answer. She glanced in the direction of the cabin, barely able to see the light of the front porch. She couldn’t believe she’d come out here. That she’d convinced herself it would be okay, even though the voice in her head had been screaming for her not todoit.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, bracing his arms on either side of the branch to pull himself up to sit beside her, making the whole thing shake under hisweight.

They were both silent, his eyes fixated on the open water before he spoke again. “Why would you come out here when you don’t know howtoswim?”

She clenched her jaw, unable to share the answer that sprung to her mind. Because she was curious. Because she liked the way she felt when he was close to her. “I asked you how deep it was. Itrustedyou.”

His head tilted slightly to the side and he looked at her. “Why? You don’t evenknowme.”

He was throwing her words back in her face and she didn’t like it. “’Cause I’m an idiot!” she yelled. She began scooting down the branch, determined to get away from him by any means possible. To get back to the shore, to her best friend, even by the most humiliating way she couldthinkof.

But he lowered himself to the water, blocking her off on the other side. “Where are yougoing?”

“Back to the cabin. Far awayfromyou.”

“Why? Because of that?” He gestured to the spot where she’d nearly drowned. “Why do you hate me so much, Samantha? You’ve hated me for as long as I can remember, and I don’t know why. What did I ever dotoyou?”

She stopped moving, too shocked by what he was asking to even look at him. It was true; she’d hated him forever, but the fact that he’d noticed made her heart hurt a little inside. She didn’t know what tosay. “I—”

But he stopped her. “You know what, I don’t want to know.” He reached out to tuck the last bits of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry, Sam. I really am. If I—” But he stopped, as if not allowing the words to leave his tongue. He looked back up at her, his expression somber and dark. “Forgiveme?”

* * *

Presentday

BOOMBOOMBOOM

Samantha startled out of sleep, the sounds of banging reverberating through the walls and floor. She threw her feet off the side of the couch and sat forward to turn off the television. The pounding came once again. BOOMBOOMBOOM.

Thefrontdoor.

“Hang on,” she shouted. “I’ll be there in a second!” She grabbed her cell phone off the coffee table, and realized it had been almost an hour since she’d gotten off the phone with Renee. Tristan Montgomery was on the other side of that door, and she had no idea how long he’d been outthere.

She pushed hard against the couch, forcing herself to stand, then walked over to the entertainment center to check her reflection in the television screen. “Oh God,” she whispered, taking in the long strands of hair stuck to her face and smoothing them behind her ears. This was the first time she’d seen Tristan in six years, and a red imprint of her couch cushion was etched into her cheek. No. She shook her head at her reflection. It wasn’t the first time. She’d seen him a handful of other times as well. In passing, when he came home for visits from college…but he never seemed to notice her. Never again after thatnight.

When she finally opened the door a minute later, unsure if he’d left because he was so quiet, she found him resting in the stairwell, his back against the wall, laughing into the receiver of his cell phone. He stood there so casually, it seemed as though he did this every day, as though he hadn’t just been beating down her front door with his barefists.

“Yeah, I got it.” He smiled. But not to Samantha—he was speaking to whomever was on the phone. “Talk to youlater.”

---