Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Don’t get me wrong, I want to.

I’ve been itching to call him a heartless monster, but confronting him would make me seem weak. Show him how much I cared. How much he hurt me. And I promised myself I’d never let myself be this vulnerable again after my dad. I’ve lived through a hell of a lot worse than the captain of the basketball team sleeping with me, then going back to his ex.

Who cares that he said he loved me in a scene worthy of a romance movie?

I’m okay.

Really.

I don’t care.

Did I mention I’m okay?

“Vee, open the door. My hands are full,” Dia requests from outside my bedroom, and I drag myself out of bed to let her in.

A smiling Dia stands in my doorway, a mountain of unhealthy snacks huddled up in her arms. She insisted we have a slumber party after tonight’s basketball game, more than willing to skip the party at Theo’s place.

Translation: she’s worried about me.

“That was quick.” I give a small chuckle as we plop down onto my bed. “Did you fly here?”

“Came as soon as the game ended.” Dia laughs, snatching a bag of Jolly Ranchers off the pile and tearing the bag open. I wince at her flavor or choice.

Cherry.

You better not have ruined Jolly Ranchers for me, asshole.

Dia props her head against the decorative pillow on my bed and sighs. “The game was a fucking disaster. Xav-the-scumbag played like shit all first half.”

I grin at her new nickname for him. Got to love the best friend solidarity.

“No, you know what? Saying he played like shit would be an insult to shit. I don’t know what the hell was up with him. Good thing Finn came through. He carried the game on his back.”

There was a scout from Duke in the crowd.

Did Xavier blow his chance?

“What about the second half? Did Xav recover?” I ask, more curious than I can bear. I hate myself for giving a damn.

“I’m guessing Coach Diaz threatened to

make him swallow his balls or something because he killed the second half. He ended up scoring the winning shot.”

Thank God.

Did I just think that? What part doesn’t register, heart? We hate him now. Catch up.

Dia nibbles at her lip when she takes a good look at me, her expression morphing into a mix of guilt and pity.

“Shit, Vee, I’m such an idiot. Going on about that crap bag after what he did to you, I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.” I’m shocked by the weak, broken sound coming out of my mouth. I freeze when I taste something salty.

Wait…

Am I crying?

“Come here.” Dia sits up, opening her arms for a hug.