Page 88 of When love and Hate Collide

“Thank you.” My eyes take in the cream suit he’s in. “You don’t look half bad yourself, Professor. You already know I get a little weak in the knees and moist between the legs whenever you wear a suit.” I purr, smiling sultrily. Paxton grins broadly, flashing me his pearly white teeth, his baby blues lighting up.

“Don’t I just, Miss Jenkins,” he croons leaning down a little, his forehead pressing to mine. “I can’t wait to get you out of that dress and devour you,” he groans, his lips brushing against mine tenderly as he speaks.

Paxton leans in to kiss me but I draw back, smiling teasingly, “Mm, keep that up and I’ll whisk you upstairs.”

I grin seductively, biting my lip. “We are in the presence of family, we can’t be making out in front of them, it’s impolite.” I point out, dragging my finger down his chest.

“The thoughts you’re inciting wandering around looking as good as you do in that dress is unjust, baby.” Paxton mumbles, dragging his nose against my jaw. “I forgot how much of a tease you are.”

I wink at him and draw back. “Later. I’m going to go mingle before my mother tells me off for being rude. I’ll see catch you in a bit, lover.” I press a chaste kiss to his cheek before sauntering off.

* * *

“Have you eaten sweetheart? Look, I got all your favourites.”

I’m standing in the kitchen with Ash and Oz an hour later when my mother pushes a tray of sushi under my nose. My stomach lurches at the sight and smell that wafts around me. My mouth filling with saliva when I feel the fruit I consumed earlier rising. With a shake of my head, I push it away, wincing.

“No, I’ll have some later, mum.” I utter, swallowing thickly and she smiles, moving the tray of raw fish that I would customarily devour. I’m sure my midwife mentioned raw fish is a no go in pregnancy.

“Here you go, chick. Can’t have the future blushing bride-to-be without a drink in her hand.” Ashlyn hands me a glass of champagne and panic fills me while I scramble to find an excuse to decline the drink. If I tell her I’m not drinking she will know something is up, because I love champagne and will never turn down a glass. When I look across the room, I notice Dean talking to my cousin; he must have noticed the panicked look in my eyes because he looks down at the glass in my hand.

Ashlyn gestures me to follow her outside and when I follow her, Dean excuses himself from the conversation with my cousin Danny and moves toward me, knocking back his glass of champagne. I wasn’t sure what he was doing until he deliberately walks into me. The champagne glass in my hand is skilfully switched with his as we squeeze past each other. I peer up at him and he stares into my eyes, his fingers brushing mine at the exchange which triggers the butterflies in my stomach. It’s really not helping that I can smell his stupid aftershave everywhere.

Goddamn it, what the hell is he playing at.

Tearing my eyes from his quickly I follow Ashlyn outside, all the while telling myself not to look back at him. By nightfall the party is in full swing, friends and relatives dancing to the music playing melodiously. I manage to dodge anymore alcoholic drinks, telling everyone offering me a drink that I‘ve had plenty or that I’m driving back to Manchester after the party.

I am gutted I can’t drink, because I’m in desperate need of something to alleviate the heaviness that’s sitting on top of my chest or smother the voices in my head.

“Are you okay, kid?” Oz questions when he hears me heave a weighty sigh. I nod slowly, sipping my bottle of water. My eyes wandering the garden until they find the pair of eyes I’m searching for.

“I’m fine, just mingled out.” Oz follows my gaze and when he finds Dean and I watching one another he smiles.

“How exhausting it must be for the two of you to keep fooling yourselves into believing you hate one another.” Oz points out, fixing me with a knowing look when I look at him questioningly.

“I assure you there is no deceiving ourselves; we absolutely do hate each other more than ever.” I answer bitterly and Oz laughs.

“Jeyla, come on, those secret looks you’re both giving one another when you think no one is watching are not looks of hate, babe.”

I snort and roll my eyes, “No? What are they then?”

Oz smiles and glances over at his baby brother who is now staring into his glass of Jack Daniels ominously. “Passion, desire,love.”

I choke on the water I’m sipping and half cough, half laugh at the absurdity of his theory. Dean and I in love? Is he crazy?

“You’re not serious, Oskie?” I probe, clearing my throat of the water that went down my windpipe. “I’ve been in love, hellI amin love, and I assure you what your brother and I feel for another is not love. It’s hatred, in its rawest form.” I express, my eyes veering over to the man in question.

“Is that why you’ve spent the night watching him instead of the man you’re supposedly so in love with, Jeykins?”

I frown, shaking my head, “What are you talking about, I haven’t—”

“You have, and he’s been watching you, and when he’s not, he’s glaring murderously at your fiancé, like he’s ready to pound his fist into his pretty face until it caves in.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head.

“Oz, stop it.” I snap tetchily, “The notion alone of Dean and I being in love is absurd. I can’t stand him nor stomach the thought of him let alone fall in love with him.” I admit sourly and scowl up at Oz, who smiles at me as though he’s not buying a word of what I’m saying.

Across the garden, I notice Dean walk by Paxton who is coming in the opposite direction and accidentally bumps Dean’s shoulder when he looks over at me and smiles loving as he walks by.

“Watch it.” Dean hisses, his green eyes ablaze.

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