The Boy I Hate(72)

Tom smiled, instantly transforming his face into something reminiscent of a teddy bear. “You got it, Nay,” he said. Tom lowered Samantha’s seat, indicating she should follow him, and gestured for her to sit down at the shampoo bowl.

“Lie back,” Tom said. He then guided her neck down into sink, where he began delicately removing her braids. He then wet her scalp, sending the perfect temperature water over her head, and proceeded to wash her hair—with the strongest, most skilled fingers she’d ever felt in her life. Almost.



Samantha’s hotel room turned out to be a mere two doors down from Renee’s. Two.

Convenient for borrowing deodorant, but not so convenient if she wanted to sneak a certain someone into her room in the middle of the day. It wasn’t that she wasn’t having fun either, because spending time with her best friend was exactly where she wanted to be. She craved their interaction, their easy friendship that allowed them to speak freely, or be perfectly silent without any awkwardness at all.

At one point during their appointment, Renee was telling her about her and Phin’s first date, and Samantha thought she might cry, she was laughing so hard. Or at another time, when Renee told her again the story of how he proposed, Samantha thought she might cry, but this time because it was utter sweetness.

And then, they had a long talk about Steven, and about how Samantha feared she’d stayed with him for so long for all the wrong reasons. Because she was scared of hurting people, of saying no. Scared of rejections, and of failure. In the end, they had a big ol’ cry fest about how much they missed each other, and made promises to visit each other whenever they could, no matter where they lived or how difficult life became.

But now, she was alone in her room, which left plenty of time to think about Tristan. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact he’d become the forbidden fruit, or if it was something else, but all her hormones were bursting. Having him at her will for two days had ruined her for life. Already, all she could think about was kissing him, touching him, and him touching her. She dangled her feet off the side of the bed and let out a deep sigh.

She’d tried to take a nap as Renee was doing, but every time she closed her eyes, memories of Tristan’s lovemaking played through her mind, making her feel…anything but rested.

Deciding to give up on sleep, she fetched her purse from the top of her dresser, and carried her toiletries and makeup to the bathroom. She arranged everything on the countertops meticulously, then hitched her leg up on a chair and began shaving her legs, taking ten times as long as she normally would for such a tedious task. But still, hours remained until she needed to be ready for the party. She turned around to rest her bottom on the counter and looked at the tub.

It had been years since she’d soaked in a bath. Years since she’d had one available. She pushed herself to stand from the pristine white counter and walked over to run her fingers along the cool porcelain edge. Her apartment back in LA didn’t have a bathtub, and the idea of soaking her muscles sounded heavenly. She turned on the faucet and let the tub fill halfway with water before adding a scoop of bath crystals that were graciously provided on a silver bath tray.

Fragrant lavender and lemon filled the bathroom, and on impulse, she fetched her bag off the counter and pulled out her phone to send a message to Tristan.



Mona: Are you alone?



It was a simple message, well meaning and straight to the point… And not five seconds later, her phone rang and she slid open the call.

“Where are you?” he asked with a husky flirtation.

She sat on the edge of the bathtub, smiling as she tested the temperature with her fingers. “My room.”

“That’s a shame, you should be in mine.”

She grinned, letting her bath robe slip down her shoulders then fall softly to the floor. “I’m about to get in the bath,” she said. Tingles traveled down her body simply from the admission. She felt naughty, sexy, and she wished she could see his face.

“Where’s your room?” he asked then. “I’ll be there in two minutes.”

She only smiled and put one foot in the water. “You can’t. Renee’s room is just across the hall. It’s too risky.”

He groaned. “I like risks.”

She laughed and lowered her body farther. “Well I don’t, and I’m the only one who knows my room number.”

He was quiet a moment, and she could almost see him smiling. “Touché, little one.”

She grinned and leaned back, resting her neck in the built-in pillow. “Little one?” she asked, her nose wrinkling at the pet name.