The Boy I Hate(81)

She took a deep breath and pushed off the side of the bed. Because even though she wanted to spend all morning doing it all over again, that wasn’t a possibility. She stretched her arms overhead and pulled in a deep breath. This morning was another story and she needed to get back to her room before anyone noticed.

She picked up her bag off the floor, took one last glance at the man who consumed her body, mind and soul, then walked to the bathroom. Deciding there was a two hours yet before she had to worry about anyone trying to find her, she turned on the shower and stepped in before it had a chance to warm. After washing her hair, she combed out all the tangles as best she could with her fingers, then wrapped herself in a towel and headed back to the bedroom. The moment she opened the door, she immediately froze. Her face drained of all color as Renee stared back at her.

Her best friend’s face was puffy and streaked with tears, yet she didn’t say a word. She just stood there, silently blinking as Samantha tried to come up with an excuse as to why she was coming out of Tristan’s bathroom. But there was none. Because whatever this was, it was out in the open now. There was no hiding it, no wishing it away, no backing up and hoping for a do-over.

Renee had found her in her brother’s room, and the expression on her face was one of complete betrayal. Renee closed her eyes, shutting everyone out as she tightened her fists at her sides. Samantha could only look at her, her friend’s veins visibly pulsing at every pressure point.

Renee parted her lips, and mouthed the word. “Why?”

Samantha covered her lips, shaking her head as she took a step forward.

But Renee only retreated, gasping in gulps of air that sounded like sobs. “How could you do this?” she asked. “How could you do this?”

Then she ran from the room, leaving the door open, and Samantha fell to her knees in the middle of the doorway. She looked over at Tristan, who was sitting on the side of the bed, his body only covered by the sweats she was sure he’d put on to answer the door.

“Why was she here?” she whispered. “Did Mark tell—”

But he shook his head, cutting her off before she could finish. “Mom showed up this morning… Dad wasn’t with her.”

Tears stung behind Samantha’s eyes and capped her hand over her mouth. “No. No no no.” Because after finding her mother… “She came here,” she whispered, choking on the words. “And she found us.”

It wasn’t a question; it was a fact. Because her friend who thought about everyone else before she thought about herself, had just found out that her father had been cheating on her mother. And when she’d come to talk to her brother about it, found her best friend practically naked in his room.

“I should go after her,” Samantha whispered. “Explain.”

Tristan only pushed his hand through his hair and shook his head. “Give her a minute.”

Her throat was so tight she could barely breathe, but she nodded her head. He was right. Renee would need time after something like this. She would need time, and Samantha needed to be strong enough to give it to her. “We shouldn’t have been so reckless. I shouldn’t have—”

But Tristan rose to his feet. He stopped in front of her, pulled her to stand, and wrapped his arms around her body. She pressed her face into his chest and held onto him. She swallowed hard, fighting back tears that threatened to choke her “You were right. I should have told her.”

But he remained silent. Not saying he told her so, not yelling like she knew she would have done, had the roles been reversed.

“My mom is down in the lobby,” he said after a pause. “She’s a mess.” His eyes met hers again, and she could see the wounded boy she met all those days ago when he told her about his father. The boy who was protective, hurt, and so vulnerable. “Will you be okay without me?”

Samantha almost sobbed, but stepped away, already feeling guilty for keeping him this long. “Go. I’ll catch up with you at the rehearsal.”

He traced the rim of her lips with his finger, then leaned in close. His mouth hovered over hers, but didn’t kiss. “It will be okay,” he finally whispered, but they were words not meant for her. They were words meant for himself.

She grabbed hold of his neck, and kissed him with all her strength. As though wanting to heal all his wounds, wanting to take away his pain—but she knew she couldn’t. This was something she couldn’t take away, and she could only love him through it.

He took her hands from behind his neck as he broke their kiss, then paused for a minute before he walked into the bathroom to shower. She waited for the shower to run, then gathered the rest of her things and slipped out to the hall in the romper she’d worn the night before.