Page 1 of Between Hate and Desire

PROLOGUE

HUNTER

For the past four hours,I’ve been running around behind the bar, getting people’s beers and making cocktails nonstop. Spring break means the bar stays insanely busy, especially with California State University ten minutes away.

“Dude, Hunter,” Brandon hollers. Over my shoulder, I see him standing at the opposite end of the bar. “Need a refill, man!” He shakes his empty beer bottle as if that’ll encourage me to hustle. Considering he doesn’t tip, his pretty boy ass can wait.

“I’ll be right over!” I reply, shaking my head. It’ll be his fifth beer in the past few hours, but I know he’s taking full advantage of our last semester in college. In a couple of months, we’ll graduate and be in the real world—hopefully not still bartending, though. I’m getting my degree in engineering and don’t plan to use it making drinks.

Brandon Locke is my roommate and one of my best friends. Though we grew up hating each other in high school since he was the kicker for my school’s rival team, we moved past that when we played football together at CSU Sacramento. He’s one of the most dependable guys I know, and though he tries to keep up with me and our other buddies, he’s more of a straight arrow. Tonight, however, he seems to be bending.

“Locke, you sure you want another?” I ask when I’m in front of him.

“Don’t make me jump over this bar and punch you,” he threatens, then slaps down a five-dollar bill, making me chuckle.

“Oh, big spender. Fine.” I grab a cold beer from the cooler and slide it over to him. I take the five and put it in the drawer. “But don’t think I’m holding your hair back when you puke your guts out later.”

Brandon chugs away while holding up his middle finger. “I don’t need a sitter,Dad. Besides, Mason and Liam will make sure I get home safely.”

That makes me snort, and I shake my head. “They aren’t much better.”

“True.” He shrugs, giving no fucks.

This last semester has been hard on us. These final months before graduation have been a mental head game as we focus on the future and job hunting. Bartending pays the bills for now, and I don’t mind it, but on nights like this, I wish I were hanging out with my friends instead of serving them. At least being the sober one keeps me entertained because they’re a bunch of idiots when they’re drunk.

“Manning!” When I hear my last name being yelled across the room, I know it’s Mason. As the loud and obnoxious one of the four of us, he’s always ready for a party. Hell, heisthe party.

He squeezes his way through the crowd until he’s standing next to Brandon. His lazy grin tells me exactly how drunk he is.

“You better slow your shit down, Holt. I’m not gonna get a fine for over-serving your ass,” I warn, cleaning up a beer spill from the person he bumped into when he barged over to the bar.

“Dude, I’m totally fine. Look…” he tells me, aiming for his nose with his finger, but he misses and gouges his eye. “Well, I’m not driving anyway, so hook me up.”

I slide open the cooler door, grab him a PBR, and hand it over. “I don’t know how you drink that shit.” I take his money off the bar. “Should charge you extra for making me serve it to you.”

“You don’t know what’s good.” Mason takes a long swig.

I scoff, ignoring him.

“Smells nasty as fuck too.” Brandon leans over and makes a face. “Probably why he likes it. Just his type.”

“Where’s Evans?” I ask, realizing I haven’t seen Liam in a while and look through the crowd. He’s not as rowdy as Mason, but he’s been known to get thrown out of a party or two. Kinda ironic considering he’s a bouncer here and usually the one breaking up fights and kicking drunks out on their asses.

“Saw him heading toward the back with a redhead,” Mason explains. Liam isn’t on duty tonight, so that can only mean one thing—closet sex.

“Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head. I’m not about to hunt him down just to see something I’ll need to bleach from my memory and eyes. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s banged some girl at work and probably won’t be the last.

“Hunter!” Greg, the other bartender, shouts and gives me a look to keep moving down the line.

“Yeah, yeah,” I murmur, waving him off. He’s in his thirties and always on my ass. If I didn’t need to pay half the rent and bills, I would’ve left months ago.

“Alright, man. We’ll let you get back to work. Be back for a refill shortly,” Brandon tells me, tapping his knuckles on the bar. He drags Mason away with him, and I get back to serving drinks to the dozens of people waiting.

As I’m grabbing beers and making cocktails, the bar continues to fill and grow louder. Music blares, couples dance, and I wouldn’t be surprised if a mosh pit broke out soon.

“What can I get ya?” I ask a blonde whose hair covers half her face. The moment she looks up and her blue eyes meet mine, all the air is sucked from my lungs. Her smile widens, and she tilts her head slightly as if she’s examining me. Her gaze slowly slides across the tattoos on my arm before she meets mine again.

“What would you recommend?” The sweetness of her voice has me licking my lips and swallowing hard. She’s stolen my thoughts with one question.

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