Page 50 of The One I Hate
And don’t think about his tongue or dick.
I know I should look away, but I can’t make myself do it. He has his own gravitational pull, I swear.
Unless I run. That’s always an option.
But I can’t do that now. I mean, I could. But I won’t do that to Mona. Or myself. Like Connor said, the best revenge on Simon is making him watch me succeed. And that starts here and now.
“Is that Charlie Bennett I see?” Simon smirks as he takes the conveniently empty seat next to me at the counter. “I must say, this is a pleasant surprise.”
“Speak for yourself,” I say, tearing my eyes away from him and focusing back on my phone. I hate how hard that is. Becauseas much as I might hate him, I’ll never be able to deny how stupid hot he is. Especially now that I know what he looks like naked.
The asshole is one of those guys that has gotten better looking with age—and he wasn’t hurting in the looks department in college. His brown hair looks like he just got out of the shower and has a slight curl to it, yet still perfectly styled. He smells of light body soap and cologne that is hitting my senses in the best way. I don’t know what the scent it is, but it smells expensive and sexy. His beard is neatly trimmed, but still leaves plenty of hair that I can somehow feel between my thighs as I sit here.
Fuck my life…why did I sleep with him? That was single-handedly the stupidest decision I’ve ever made.
But I did, and now I’m here, sitting next to this infuriatingly hot man who’s wearing a polo shirt that showcases his toned biceps in a way that makes you want to stare.
And hold on to them while he does delicious things to your body.
No. I’m not going to. That’s what he wants. At the end of the day, that’s who Simon Banks is. The guy who wants the spotlight. Center of attention. And I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.
Why am I here?
Despite me putting up walls that could have separated communist countries once upon a time, Simon has somehow infiltrated my life with his adorable smirk and annoying persistence. That’s the only thing I can think of as to why I agreed to come to his party tonight.
At his house. With his roommates. And friends. And probably half of the University of Tennessee campus. Where he is currently dancing on a table with girls all around him.
I’ve been on campus for three years, and I’ve never once gone to a party. I was invited to a few freshman year, but I always declined. They just never felt like my scene, so I usually picked up extra shifts at Perks. These are all kids who are living the full college experience. Partying on weekends. Living off their trust funds or scholarships. Then there’s me. The commuter who lives fifteen miles away and the only reason I can even afford to come here is because my mom works in one of the dining halls.
I suddenly feel self-conscious as a group of girls bops past me, holding up their drinks as they slink through the crowd. I don’t know if it’s their designer clothes or their size-two waists, but any confidence I had coming in here is out the window.
Again, why am I here? Oh, that’s right. Because Simon flashed me his smile, batted his beautiful blue eyes at me, and begged me to come to their last party of the year. Finals finished today, and everyone will be clearing campus tomorrow for the summer. I originally said no—like I do most times with Simon—but somehow those nos are becoming less and less.
I don’t know what it is about him. At first I was convinced he was bored and that’s why he was hanging out at the coffee shop every day. Then when he started asking me out all the time, I was convinced it had to be a bet. Because that’s the only way Simon Banks is seen with a girl like me. That’s not self-deprecating—it’s just true. My attempt at a date last month proved that.
As I’ve gotten to know Simon, I feel like his cocky demeanor is just an act. Well, not all of it. At his core he’s a handsome, arrogant man who loves to have the spotlight. But what I’ve learned is that he’s a good friend. Smart. Hilarious. A hell of a dancer. And he went toe-to-toe with me in trivia during our WrestleMania not-a-date date.
And then there was the night he held me as I cried because of a douchebag guy.
He’s more than what he shows to the world. He’s a good guy.
And I have a fucking crush on him. Which is really bad.
Because I know he doesn’t like me like that. He might show some signs here and there that would make me think he does, but I know how this ends. In heartbreak. It’s how the stories of kids from the opposite sides of the track always end. The handsome prince never ends up with the common girl from the village.
I should leave. Yes. I need to. This is Simon’s element. I don’t belong here.
And just as I turn, I hear the one syllable that will stop me in my tracks until the day I die.
“Bug!”
The damn nickname. The nickname that I used to hate and now don’t hate at all.
“Hey,” I say as I turn around. Sweat is dripping from his forehead. His breathing is heavy, and I can’t help but let my eyes travel to his toned abs as he brings his shirt up to wipe off his forehead.
I’ve only imagined what Simon looks like without a shirt. And apparently my imagination was NOT active enough.
“Did you just get here?”
