The Boy I Hate(56)

She stayed in the shower longer than necessary. Washing every inch of skin he’d touched. Every bit of her he’d kissed. She then stayed longer—until all the water ran ice cold and her body was numb. She stepped back into the room, praying he’d gone to sleep, and found him lying in the corner of the room with a pillow. He didn’t have any blankets, any comfort at all, but she didn’t care. She climbed into the large bed alone, her hair still wet from her shower, and lay there, staring up at the ceiling, until she finally fell asleep.



Silence. That’s what she gave him the next day. It was easy for her, being an only child. She was used to being alone, used to having no one to talk to, but she could tell it bothered him, and that was the goal. She was hurt, embarrassed, and she wanted him to know it. She wanted to push him away. To push him so far he would have no way of crawling back up to her heart again. Because he had fooled her once, and that was shame on him. But now he’d fooled her twice, and that was completely and utterly a shame on her.

Tristan received a message bright and early from Bob the next morning. The Mustang was ready. They stopped at a small cafe in town to pick up breakfast, then ate it in the car as soon as they were on the road. She could tell he was bothered, that he hadn’t slept, but she wouldn’t let herself care. She set herself up with a new audiobook, then zoned out for the long drive ahead.

At one point, they pulled off the road to get gas. Tristan unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car to place the nozzle in the tank. “There’s a cafe across the road,” he said to her. “It looks pretty nice, if you’re hungry?”

She adjusted in her seat and didn’t answer.

“Samantha,” he said again. “Are you hungry?”

She closed her eyes and continued listening to her book.

Before long, the headphones were ripped from her ears, and Tristan was standing beside her. There was hurt in his eyes. A hurt she knew she’d put there.

“Are you hungry, Samantha?”

She only shook her head, placed her headphones back on her head, and closed her eyes again. She expected him to go inside and eat without her, but he didn’t. He got back on the road, where they carried on toward their destination with empty stomachs.

The hours passed slowly, more slowly than they had the whole trip, but eventually the sun began to creep its way down to the mountains. Tristan pulled off the road to the shoulder of the barren overgrown highway, and put the car in park. His arms were tense against the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the sun, which cast a golden hue to the whole sky. “Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of the trip?”

She swallowed her saliva, her stomach rolling with sorrow, because the raw emotion in his voice caused her throat to instantly thicken. “Like what?”

“You not talking to me? Not looking at me.” He turned in his seat to face her. He was a mess. There were bags under his eyes, deep dark circles, and a crease in his forehead she’d never noticed before. “Is this all because of last night?”

She turned in her seat toward the door and tried to open it. To get out of the car, because she could feel her eyes welling over, and she couldn’t bear him seeing that again.

He leaned across the seat and pressed down the lock, not letting her go. “Answer me, Samantha.”

She turned back to face him. Anger surged through her body and reddened her face. “Yes!” She yelled. “Yes, this is exactly how it will be.”

“Why?”

“Because! If you don’t want me, Tristan, then just tell me! If you don’t want me, say it with words! Because I can handle words! But why let me embarrass myself like that? Why let me make myself a fool over you again?” Tears began to roll down her cheeks and she turned away.

He grabbed hold of her face, bringing her back, his thumbs brushing the tears from her lower lids. “You think I don’t want you? You think that last night didn’t almost kill me to push you away?”

She remained silent, but he kept talking. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you. I’ve never felt as out of control as I did last night. I may not be perfect, but I wasn’t going to sleep with you while you were drunk.”

Her chin began to quiver, and she opened her eyes. “I wasn’t drunk.”

“Yes, you were. You were stumbling all the way back to the room.”

“There were pebbles.”

“There were no pebbles,” he whispered. The corners of his lips lifted in a hesitant smile.

Her cheeks flushed again and she closed her eyes, but he pulled her onto his lap, causing her to open them again.

His eyes met hers, intense but without apology. “I want you Samantha. I’m sure you can feel how much.”