Page 22 of Hate To Love You

Yup, I go there. Me. Apollo. His bed. Tangled sheets. Heavy limbs. Salty muscle. My mouth. His mouth. Illicit things. These are not friendly thoughts. They’re not fake marriage thoughts. They’re not even sensical thoughts. My brain is clearly waterlogged, and it refuses to operate. It’s as mushy as my pink boots. I give my head a shake, and water goes flinging off my wet hair.

“How is that a problem? Give my dad the other spare room, your dad can take yours, and you can have the couch.”

He laughs. “Alright. That’s a good solution.”

What was he going to suggest? That we share a room? Share a bed and sleep in our clothes with a pillow wall between us? Or did his mind go to the place mine just went? I haven’t seen him so much as look at me that way once. I’ve had tingly thoughts, I’ve had tingly parts, I’ve noticed he’s a grown man in a grown man’s body, and my hormones have gone wonky, but his? He’s been as cool and collected and about as non-hormonal as it gets. There have been no sidelong glances, no lingering looks, and no awkwardness on his part. The only time I saw him flustered was when he realized he was naked, and that was only because I freaked out first.

He’s totally not into me.

“Well, now that you have that figured out, can you leave? I’d like to get dressed and figure out how we can keep our dads from tearing each other apart, getting into wild arguments, or starting secondary or third-ary feuds.”

“I’ll leave. Absolutely. That’s a good point. Spending the night is just the first step. They might wake up in the morning and still want to kill each other. I’ll make sure the pool is off-limits so there aren’t any more near-drowning incidents. Plus, I’ll be sure to cook a really good breakfast. It’s harder to be angry when you’re not hangry.”

That’s the kind of logic Apollo would have used as a kid. It nearly makes me smile.

I listen for a few minutes and hear nothing. It’s weird, that vacuum of silence. When Apollo clears his throat, I nearly jump out of my skin. Again.

“Oh my god, are you still there?” What was he waiting for? Me to come out in a towel and then shock me? No. He wouldn’t do that. I know he wouldn’t do that. I have to admit that I don’t really think there’s a creepy, dishonorable bone in Apollo’s body. He’s grown into the kind of man his mom would be proud of.

That makes me sad. Really freaking sad. Like the burning in the eyeballs all over again kind of sad, but at least the tears can cleanse the shampoo residue out.

I miss my mom. Yes, I’m mad at her, and I hate her for leaving. I hate that she abandoned my dad and me and never looked back. But I miss her.

It would be nice to have a mom to talk to right now. To talk things out with. How many times did I wish for that over the years? For both my mom and Apollo?

Maybe he wished for the same thing.

Even if he was the one who left, maybe he wished he never had. Maybe he wished himself back in bumfuck nowhere, going nowhere, or that I was overseas with him. Maybe. I don’t know. Probably not. No doubt he missed his mom, but he probably had a full enough life over there that he didn’t need his childhood best friend. Former best friend. We have pretty little in common now. We probably would have grown apart as teenagers anyway.

“I’m still here.”

His voice gives me full-body goosebumps, followed by a full-body shiver, followed by full-body heat. His tone is so full of…longing? It’s deep and husky, whatever it is. Maybe that’s just his regular voice. It could be that he swallowed too much pool water pulling our dads out, or he’s getting a summer cold. Perhaps I have shampoo in my ears, too, and it’s making me hear things. Or it’s going to my brain and making me imagine things.

“Why?” I snap. It’s easier to be snappy than to be vulnerable. I’m feeling way too much right now, and it’s not cool.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about your boots. I can buy you another pair.”

“I don’t need another pair,” I bite back.

“Patience?”

I’m quickly running out of it, that’s for sure. “Can you just go make sure our dads haven’t killed each other in some creative manner down there?”

A heartbeat of silence, then he mumbles, “Sure. Yes, I’ll do that.”

This time, his footsteps leaving are unmistakable. I brush the tears out of my eyes and give my wrecked boots a glance that makes a fresh set of tears pool up. There’s probably very little shampoo left in there now. I swipe at my eyes and get my determined face on. This bathroom is so freaking perfectly perfect that the mirror isn’t even steamed up after the shower, and the vent fan is silent. I don’t remember turning it on. It’s probably an automatic thing. A smart fan for a smart shower for a smart house.

I don’t have time to be sad. Not when both our dads are here, and my job as a peacemaker and friendship fixer and…bro matchmaker has just begun.

No. Not just my job.

Our job.

Apollo is fully in this with me too.

CHAPTER 9

Apollo

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