Page 51 of Mostly Loathing You

“Hi.” I smile back, attempting to hide how nervous interacting with her makes me.

“I’m Olivia.”

“Hannah.” My stomach does an array of flips and twirls, an entire flight of butterflies taking up residence in my abdomen. She’s gorgeous, but I can’t figure out why I’m reacting the way I am.

I mean, I know, but I’m not ready to unpack that quite yet.

We chat for a while, but none of the conversation ventures past face value. She’s new to the area, her family having just moved here from Wyoming. She recently graduated high school, like me, but doesn’t plan to go to college.

I considered doing the same; I could just move to New York City without pursuing a degree first, but my mother might actually send me for slaughter if I even entertain that idea.

As the night progresses, I find myself pacing the pool. The nervous energy from before is only exacerbated by the alcohol now running through my veins.

Jackson, the sad puppy that he is, hasn’t left his spot by the pool, his eyes fixed on the way the water dances and ripples as people jump and move around.

I feel for him, but not enough to allow my night to be dragged down.

Pulling the screen door open, I venture into thekitchen to get ice from the fridge. The guys got a keg, but I’m not a big beer drinker. Maybe that will change when I go to college, but right now I’ll stick to Mountain Dew and UV Blue. The bottle glugs as I pour it, the heavy stream of the blue liquid filling up a solid three-quarters of the Solo cup in front of me. As I add the Mountain Dew, the blue shade shifts to a pretty electric green.

I lift the drink to my lips as I shift on my feet to lean against the counter. The house is full of people now, various partygoers covering just about every sitting surface available. The always-present smell of the chlorine is now mixed with the yeasty smell of cheap beer.

The moment my eyes land on Liam, my stomach sours. Not in the typical way, when his presence leaves me wanting to gouge my eyes out because he’s being annoying, but in a foreign, unfamiliar way.

Olivia, the girl I was talking to earlier, is now sitting in his lap. The irritation that flows through my veins isn’t about her, though, and that startles me. The way she touches him, her hand pressed firmly to his taut T-shirt, has my blood boiling, and I find myself ready to lunge across the living room couch to get to them. I taste blood as I bite down on my bottom lip far more aggressively than normal.

I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.

So why am I walking across the room?

The moment my feet skid to a stop in front of the recliner they’re parked in, I realize I don’t have the slightest idea of what to say. What the hell does someone say when they suddenly find themselves jealous over the single person in this world that they’d love to watch rot?

“Liam, I need to talk to you.”

This pulls his attention from Olivia for a split second before he leans back into her touch, ignoring me.

“Liam…” The pleading tone that slips from my lips seems to wake him up and he turns to me, a concerned expression on his face. He taps Olivia’s leg to instruct her to move, and she does without hesitation.

She’ll make someone very happy one day, I’m sure of it, but I’ll be damned if it’s Liam.

He follows me to the laundry room and I click the door behind us, trying to find a shred of privacy. What will we talk about? Hell if I know, but he’s the hell away from her.

“What’s up?” The concerned tone in his voice makes me feel almost guilty—almost.

“Um—” I gnaw at the inside of my cheek, struggling for a reason to justify pulling him away from the party. “Oh, I, uh,” I say as I clear my throat, “I can’t find the laundry detergent. Someone spilled beer on my dress and I need to change.”

That’s notnottrue. I look down at a small brown spot staining my yellow dress on my hip from some idiot who tripped on his way into the house.

Liam pins me with a puzzled expression and I find myself trying to figure out a way to backtrack.

“You pulled me away from the party…from a hot girl sitting on my lap…for laundry detergent?”

“Yes!” I yelp, my nervous energy seeping into my words. “It’s an expensive dress.”

He squints at me, confusion plaguing his expression. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me! Can’t a girl care about her appearance? I know caring about that is foreign to you.”

“There she is,” he says with a grin. “For a second there, I was thinking this was a ploy to get me away from Olivia.”

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