Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

“Oh my God.” I gasp. “Is that girl taking her shirt off?”

In typical Axel Fletcher style, he turns around immediately.

By the time he looks again, I’m gone.

A flock of giggling cheerleaders storm by me as I’m scurrying up the stairs, their captain leading the way. Bitch—I mean Brie—interrupts her chugging of the red cup in her hand to fire little old me the nastiest look she can muster. I take it she still hates me?

Feeling’s mutual, honey.

My chest lifting up and down, I stop at the third floor’s last step and grip the railing to keep myself from bailing. The only reason I’m not booking it back down the stairs and aborting the mission right now is my hand.

Tightly wrapped around this iron railing.

One more step, Vee.

Just one.

You’ve got this.

12:00.

My foot connects with the third floor.

I amble down the hall leading to Finn’s bedroom and spot his closed door in the distance. My heart feels constricted into a suffocating lockbox, thank God for that. It’s the only reason it’s not bursting out of my chest right now.

I smooth down my clothes and free my pink hair from the tight bun squeezing my scalp. My long hair flows down my shoulders, past my belly button, and I take in the biggest breath my lungs allow.

I catch sight of myself in the mirror covering every inch of the ceiling—because, of course, rich people need mirrored ceilings—and think, “This is it.”

This is me.

Me and my freckles, me and my unstable eyes that can never decide whether they’re green or brown, me and my trauma.

This is me.

All of me.

Let’s just hope it’s enough.

I couldn’t just catch a cyber crush on the average Joe, could I? A nice, normal-height, cute but not too far out of my league regular fella? Nope. I had to fall for the sinfully hot, over-six-foot Adonis who could score a hundred phone numbers in his sleep.

Finally, I halt before Finn’s door.

Xavier’s in there.

Waiting for you.

Let that sink in, Vee.

I reach for the knob but keep my hand still for a few seconds. Then I nudge the door open so slowly it doesn’t so much as creak. I thought I’d find him sitting on the edge of Finn’s bed. Playing with his fingers, hopefully as nervous as I am.

I thought he’d have his eyes fixed on the door, awaiting my arrival. So, you can imagine my shock when I see her.

Them.

Together.

I must’ve gone over this moment a hundred times in my head.