Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

He’s definitely waiting for a text.

But from who?

Brie?

Lacey?

Or could it be…

Love?

“I have to warn you, if you check your phone one more time, it might break,” I tease, and he flashes an adorable, guilty grin. I’m talking the kind that could melt through steel and nurse a broken heart back to health.

“That obvious, huh?”

“A little bit.”

His grin morphs into a full-blown smile. “Busted.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“Just a friend.”

A friend. I’m not dumb. I know damn well what the word “friend” means in a jock’s vocabulary.

“Let me guess, Brie?” I try to cover up the disappointment in my voice with a cackle so fake it makes my skin crawl. “You two back together?”

“Fuck no.” He cringes.

I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

Be more obvious, Vee, seriously.

“Who, then? Anyone I know?”

He scoffs. “A bit ironic talking about girls with you, don’t you think?”

I’m not sure if it’s just my sleep deprived brain gradually shutting off or if I’m missing something here, but I can’t seem to decipher the innuendos plaguing his words.

“How is that ironic?”

“Oh, come on, Vee.” He arches an eyebrow, shooting me an unconvinced look. “You know.”

“Know what?” I ask.

“You going to make me say it? Really? Not cool, Harper.” He throws his head back, a sexy, lazy smirk plastered to his lips, and that sight alone is enough to melt my insides.

“I’m too tired for this shit. Just tell me already.”

“I liked you, Vee.”

My airways nearly close up.

“As a kid, I had the biggest fucking crush on you.”

I expected everything,

Everything but this.