Page 43 of Hate To Love You

“That’s not funny, Patience,” Apollo practically growls.

“Sorry. Yeah. Gross.”

“It’s not gross.” Apollo looks murderous again. Dangerous. He looks like he wants to find that kid and rub him on the pavement like cheese on a cheese grater.

“Apollo. It was a long time ago.” I lose my breath at his protectiveness. It’s not weird. It’s not…it’s not out there or suffocating. It just feels like having someone in my corner. Like having my best friend in my corner, but it’s more. He’s hot. He’s hot, and I want him, even though I’m trying not to.

“It left you with the scars. They’re not…you’re…they’re beautiful because they’re part of you, but I can’t imagine the pain or how scary that was. I wish I had known.”

“They’re not beautiful. You don’t have to say that,” I mumble.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I didn’t mean that they’re beautiful. I wasn’t trying to patronize you. I meant that you’re beautiful. You’re always going to be beautiful.”

My heart pounds harder than it should. I’ve scared him. He’s so pale. “I shouldn’t have said I almost died once. I didn’t. I just had to spend a while in the hospital, and everyone was worried about infection. I didn’t need a skin graft, but everyone’s hopes for me healing without many scars weren’t realized. I guess some people just don’t heal well. My body healed me, but it was messy and bumpy and not clean the way other people’s bodies healed them. Anyway, it still healed well. I didn’t have any problems after the itching, pain, and the whole long process was over, but my skin was never going to be right again.”

“How long?” Apollo asks, his voice rough.

“I can’t really remember. Months? Time seems so different when you’re young. I just remember my dad bringing all my homework to the hospital. He was employed with your dad at the time, and the insurance covered all of it.”

“My dad never said anything.”

“I’m sure my dad asked him not to. He probably told your dad that you didn’t need to worry, or he maybe even flat-out told him no. Because you said you asked your dad, and he told you about me sometimes.”

“Yes, he did. But not that. I hate that it wasn’t that. I would have come—”

“Home?”

He breaks off, his face reddening. If he was angry before, he’s livid now. “That couldn’t have been his motivation.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t.” I don’t want to drive a wedge between him and his dad. I don’t want him to be angry at all. “It was a long time ago. I’m just telling you because…because…I don’t know. I guess because last night scared the shit out of me. I was more afraid last night than I’ve ever been, and I had this happen to me.” I point over my shoulder at my back. The silence in the space is more like the scream of unheard tension. I’ve never been able to hear it before, but it has some kind of noise—a crackly noise, just like the way it snaps and hisses. And you can feel it. “I keep wanting to leave, I keep wanting to find my independence and make my own way, but I don’t want to leave you.” I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until his body snaps so straight that it’s like every bone in his body has been stacked perfectly, one on top of another. “I said I hated swimming, but I just hated that it took you away. I hated that you wanted it more than you wanted us. I hated that it gave you a life when it took mine away. It’s so ridiculous now, so dumb. I spent years being so dumb, so stubborn. Such a turd. And then I watched you sink down to the bottom of your pool last night.”

“It wasn’t really all the way to the bottom, and I think I would have been fine. You didn’t have to worry, but I’m so thankful for the help, and I want to say I’m sorry again about your boots and for scaring you and—”

I can’t take it anymore. I launch myself at him. I’m all wild need, but I stop myself. I don’t throw my arms around his neck, and I don’t cling to him. I wasn’t in control the last time I kissed him. I acted on impulse, and I can’t do that again. This time, my palms land on his solid chest and his warm, soft, white T-shirt. It lands on the fuzz of the logo, which is a hamburger dancing. Vintage. The cotton is old and worn in, and the body underneath is solid, like the concrete we both collapsed on at the side of the pool last night and melted into with exhaustion, pain, and relief.

I look up at him, looking into his soft, startled eyes. “I missed you.” I bring one hand up and thump his chest like I’m angry, but I’m not. We’ve shared so much time together, or at least we did when we were young, but it suddenly feels like we’re alone for the first time, standing so close like this, me with one palm flat and one palm curled, our bodies close enough to connect at every single point. The moment feels entirely private, and not just because no one else is watching.

Apollo makes a sound like he wants to say something, but the words get stuck in his throat. I watch his eyes, twin soft caramels, and I think maybe it’s him trying to muffle a sob. They look wet.

“I’m okay,” I whisper. I need to tell him. I need to keep telling him. Have I asked him? Have I ever thought of how hard it was for him? All I’ve ever imagined was him having this golden, blessed life. Behind all the money, the scholarship, the success, and leaving Dedind, he was just a kid. He was a kid making it in another country. He was the kid who lost his mom, who was tougher than any other guy I knew, but also sweeter too. “Are you okay?”

“Honestly, it’s going to take me a hot minute to recover from knowing you went through all that pain, but I…I think so. I’ve tried to be,” Apollo answers.

“All you’ve done is think about how to make other people’s life better since your own good investments paid off.”

“I just wanted to make your dreams come true too.”

“If I kissed you again, what would you do?” I whisper.

He doesn’t pale this time. Instead, he goes completely bloodless. “Well, you wanted to leave. But I want you to do whatever you want. I don’t want to cause any anguish or confusion.”

“I don’t want to cause you any anguish or confusion either. It’s not just me. Your feelings matter too, Apollo. I’ve been so rude and unkind. But you do matter. Besides my mom, you’re the only person I’ve never been able to stop thinking about and wishing for. Maybe we weren’t in each other’s lives like we were supposed to be, but we have right now. Maybe if I do leave, I won’t go far.”

“Maybe?” Apollo sounds hopeful.

I suck in air like a hiccup. Fragile. That’s how I feel. Like how I felt when my dad confessed everything to me. No, that was bad. This is different—a different kind of fragile. More like the pieces being glued back together and held tenuously instead of being shattered apart. My life, my wishes, my heart being reassembled.

“Not maybe. For now, I’m firm on that,” I tell him.