At First Hate (Coastal Chronicles)

“At least here, I can sail,” Derek said.

“You’re sailing?”

“Yeah. I bought a boat in the harbor to take out on weekends.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you did.”

“I could take you out.”

“By this time, you should know that those lines don’t work on me.”

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his khakis and said softly, “It wasn’t a line.”

I lapsed back into silence until we reached my place. “This is me.” I glanced around and found no man with a guitar. “We are in the clear.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I was casually seeing this guy, and after I ended it, he brought his guitar and sat outside my window, playing songs he had written about me.”

“Wow,” Derek said with a snicker.

“Yeah. It was desperate. My roommate and I snuck out the back to avoid him, and now, I’m standing here with you. What a night.”

“Hopefully, it made the night better,” he said with that characteristic smirk.

I rolled my eyes. “There it is. You can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Not with you.”

“I’m not interested,” I told him. “I know better now.”

“It won’t be like before.”

“You say that now.”

Derek stepped forward, brushing a stray curl from my cheek. “What do I have to do to prove you wrong?”

I backed out of his touch. “Nothing. I don’t want you to do anything.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

He smiled, and I forced down the sudden urge to kiss him. Because he was still the most gorgeous person I’d ever met in my entire life. And my body remembered exactly how he could use that mouth in a variety of delightful ways. Unfortunately, my heart knew what it felt like when it was broken. I didn’t really want that to happen a second time.

“Good night, Derek.”

“Night, Minivan.”

I glared back at him. “Maybe start by not calling me that.”

He laughed and called after me, “Any other requests?”

“No!”

But he stood outside of my door and smiled at me as if it were a challenge. I’d offered him one way in. He would certainly take it. I didn’t know what I would do if… when he did.

18

Harvard

Fall Semester 2012

At seven thirty the next morning, there was a knock on the door. Misty had come in at close to four, and I’d slept like shit. I wasn’t expecting visitors, but I was supposed to be at the lab by eight. So, I was awake, however much I wished that I weren’t.

“Coming,” I grumbled blearily.

I pulled the door open and found Derek in the doorway, wearing a rain jacket and holding coffee and a bag of bagels. He looked far too chipper for the early hour.

“Morning, Mars.”

“What are you doing here?” I leaned on the doorframe.

“You said you had to be at the lab at eight. I thought you could use breakfast.” He held up the coffee mug. “Coffee?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Okay. But why are you here?”

“I also have to be at the Law Library at the ass crack of dawn. I thought I’d walk you. I don’t live far from here.”

“What is this?”

“What is what?”

“Derek…”

“It’s breakfast. How much more innocuous can it get?” His hazel eyes had shifted to green against the green of his button-up. His hair had grown out some and fell forward into his eyes, curling at the edges. “Walk with me?”

I huffed and grabbed my jacket and an umbrella. “Only because there’s coffee.”

He grinned. “Fair.”

I shrugged into my jacket and took the drink from him protectively. After a good long sip of it, I shuddered at the taste but drank more anyway.

“I didn’t know how you liked it.”

“Like this,” I said. “Hot and full of caffeine.”

He chuckled. “Same.”

“Ugh, I hate this weather. My birthday week isn’t supposed to be this cold or rainy.”

“This is exceptionally rainy,” he agreed as we headed out in the beginning of the storm. “Though, my birthday is always this cold.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“December 17.”

“Brr,” I said. “I just want it to still be fall. This living in the North thing is not for me.”

“You get used to it.”

“Never,” I said to him like he was a traitor.

He laughed harder at me. “How long is your program anyway?”

“I don’t know. Usually five years for the PhD. Some people get out in four, and some people get out in seven. All kind of up to the person.” I glanced up at him and saw him looking determinedly forward. “This is your last year?”

“Yep,” he said. “3L year.”

“And then what?”

The last time I’d talked to Derek, he’d been leaving too. Just another reason not to ever let myself get attached to him.

“Not sure. There are a few options. The last two summers, I interned with a firm in New York City. My buddy Camden hooked me up, and I worked corporate law for the hotel chain that his family owns.”

I blinked at him. “You have a friend who owns a hotel chain in New York City?”