Page 38 of Hate Mates

“Pete asked me out,”she’d said one summer night ten years ago, her feet in my swimming pool, gliding back and forth.

I took a swig out of the beer we were sharing.“I didn’t know you and Pete hung out.”Or had anything fucking in common, for that matter.

“We don’t.”She shrugged, adjusting the claw clip in her hair, the gesture forcing her tits in her bikini top together, the moonlight hitting her just right that it was hard not to lean in and kiss her, claim her first.

I stared at the shifting surface of the pool.“You sure you want to get mixed up with him?”

“Why?”she asked with a loud laugh, risking my dad catching us out here. I didn’t think he deluded himself into believing either of us didn’t take full advantage of the vices Rockchapelhad to offer, but I didn’t want him to know we were pilfering his beer, either. The risk of getting caught was half the fun. Sutton’s eyes twinkled with mischief.“You’remixed up with Pete.”Yeah, not because I wanted to be.“Your friends, aren’t you?”

Peter didn’t have friends. He had the right last name and bloodline. His family was one of the five original Founding Families in Rockchapel, and while that meant less today than it did two hundred years ago, it still held weight. He was still the mayor’s only son, had access to a lot of shit I never would, and got away with things he shouldn’t.

It was hard not to find that kind of power appealing at eighteen.

But I’d always known our friendship had an expiration date.“I guess.”

“‘You guess’?”she parroted, grinning.“Jeez, Damien. What does that mean for us?”Her knee nudged mine, static dancing against my skin.“Arewefriends?”

My heart kicked in my chest, rejection a heavy brick in my gut.“Of course.”

Sutton’s head hit my shoulder, her breathy sigh sliding out of her.“Promise we always will be?”

I swallowed. She’d friend-zoned me.“Think I should be asking you that, Sut.”

“What do you mean?”she murmured.

“Pete’s not gonna let us hang.”That much I knew. He was possessive.

“Sure, he will.”She was so naïve.“You’re my best friend.”The warmth of her kiss danced across my cheek, the hops on her breath tickling my nose. “I loved you first.”

But I’d been right. Sutton avoided me. She never looked my way when our paths crossed, and I lost the one person I loved most on this miserable earth.

That all changed four years later. Long after Pete had tossed me aside, the way I’d always known he would. Sutton let herself into my house, soaked head to toe from the heavy October downpour, teeth chattering in her mouth, a bruise decorating her cheek.

We said nothing for what felt like forever.

I broke the silence first, turning the kitchen faucet on to wash my hands,“What happened to your cheek?”

She laughed, the sound snide and crooning. Not my Sutton.“Not what, but who.”

The dry skin around my knuckles stung under the soap and hot water.“You hit him back?”

I caught her throat weaving in the reflection of the window, arms folding over her chest,“Duh.”

I flexed my fingers under the hot stream, staring at a steak knife at the bottom of the sink, the temptation to use it on him too great. But I knew how that would end, didn’t I?“Good.”I dried my hands on the dish towel, turning around.“Now go home.”

Sutton’s brows snapped together.“What?”

“You heard me.”I kicked my chin in the direction of her house. “Go home.”When she didn’t move, I headed to the kitchen’s rear door, opening it wide, the scent of petrichor and dead earth hitting my nose.

The link of her arms broke.“Damien…”

I’d told her not to get mixed up with him. She didn’t listen. She never fucking listened.“Was there something else?”

Her gaze tipped to the floor, studying the redbrick pattern, her sneakers squelching when she shifted.“Why didn’t you kiss me that night?”She exhaled.“The night I told you about Pete. Why didn’t you kiss me…?”

Had I missed something?“Why would I?”

“I just…”she waffled.“I knew you liked me, and you never…”

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