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The Boy I Hate(8)

By:Taylor Sullivan


Renee’s eyes narrowed, analyzing her in a way that made Samantha fear she could see her heart. That she knew Tristan had affected her downstairs, and Samantha’s stomach rolled with the thought of it.

“You should go,” Renee finally stated.

Samantha looked down to her hands, her heart flipping with discomfort. “I don’t know—”

“It’ll make me feel better. I feel bad you’ve been stuck in here all weekend when you could have been home having fun.”

“I haven’t been stuck—”

“Go, Sammie. It’s our last night. I know it’s Tristan, but maybe you’ll meet some other guys. There are guys here; I’ve seen them walking around through the window.” She turned back around. “And you need to get out—if only for a little while.”

Samantha looked down at her fingers, thinking it would be so much easier to turn Steven down if she was able to tell him she had met someone else. “Okay.” She looked up at Renee again, then reached out to adjust the blankets around her friend’s shoulders. “I’ll go, but only for a little while.”





4





Chapter Four





Six years earlier



It was almost eight thirty when Samantha walked out on the back deck to look for Tristan. The night was warm, but the breeze off the lake offered just enough relief to make the August evening pleasant. Her long blond hair was braided over one shoulder, and she clasped a red-striped beach towel firmly at her chest.

She found him sitting on the steps, looking out to the water. His body was splayed out in gray swim shorts and a white t-shirt, but he didn’t notice her right away. His focus was directed to the lake, as if deep in thought, and the soft glow from the back porch light allowed her to see his features.

She leaned against the log siding and watched him. She’d known him for as long as she could remember, but this was the first time she’d ever seen him alone. Normally, he was surrounded by groupies, both the male and female variety, and it was odd to see him like this. Like a wolf away from his pack, or a white iris in a field of purple. Out of place, but beautiful nonetheless. It intrigued her.

“You came,” he said, his voice quiet and contemplative. But he didn’t turn around to face her. He continued to look out to the lake, as if he saw something out there she couldn’t. “I didn’t think you would.”

She pushed away from the wall, wondering how long he’d noticed her there without saying a word. “Why’s that?”

He rose to his feet and dusted off his shorts before facing her. “Just a hunch.” A slow smile transformed his features as his gaze swept her up and down. “I’m glad I was wrong, Sammie Smiles.”

He walked down the steps, the name from her childhood barely audible on his lips. Low and soft…but incredibly sexy. She didn’t like it, didn’t like it at all. Because for some reason, the way he said it made her stomach flutter. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact they were alone, or something else, but he sounded honest. Like he really was happy to see her.

She cleared her throat and looked out toward the lake. “Where are we going?”

“The dock,” he replied, jetting his chin out to the lake before glancing back up at her. “You okay with that?”

“Sure,” she said, adjusting the towel at her chest before walking down the steps.

The dock sounded safe enough. Out in the open, visible from almost every cabin. She followed him down the path to the beach, closely watching her step as they made it down to the sand. Then his footsteps slowed, and he began walking right beside her. She knew it was intentional, because he was almost a full foot taller than her. But his strides matched her short ones perfectly—step after step—and she realized he was trying to do what he said he would. To be a perfect gentleman. And he was actually succeeding.

Their walk continued, neither saying a word as they headed in the direction of the dock. Which gave Samantha plenty of time to reprimand herself for being so nervous. She wasn’t quite sure the reason, because she knew nothing would ever eventuate between her and Tristan. He could have any girl he wanted, literally, and she had no interest in him whatsoever. But Tristan Montgomery had this way about him. A presence so big the whole world would miss it the moment it was gone…and she was feeling it right now. All around her, over every inch of her skin.

They made it halfway to the dock before either spoke again, but then he turned to her, as if he’d been repressing the words for so long they exploded from his lips. “I leave for Austin next week,” he said, standing in front of her.