Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

“So… if I kiss you right now, you’ll push me away?” My fingers disperse into his hair, and I graze his lips with mine teasingly, careful not to go all the way.

His throat bobs again.

“Last chance, Z,” I beg, my voice breaking.

He knows exactly what I mean by that.

I know you’re still in there.

But you have to come back.

Come back before you lose me.

In response… he says nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

That’s my cue to cut my losses.

“As you wish.” I swallow my pride.

I start to pull away, unknotting my arms from his neck.

Only, he won’t let me.

I gasp when Xav jerks me back to his chest and crashes his lips against mine almost violently. His mouth is bruising, vindictive, but I kiss him back like it’s all I know how to do. There’s no apology, no restraint in the way he devours me. Only this boiling mix of pain, lust, and resentment.

He slips his tongue inside my mouth with a feral, irritated groan I feel deep in my bones, and I come to understand…

It’s not me he’s mad at.

He’s mad at himself.

We’re grasping at each other’s clothes for dear life, his need for me sticking out between us. I’m disappointed in myself. Disappointed that all it took was one decent gesture for me to crawl back to him. I’m disappointed in how much I love this asshole, but I love him all the same.

Loving Xavier Zachary Emery is a life sentence…

And I plead guilty.

“God, I missed you.” He drops the act, grunting in between kisses, “I missed you so fucking much, Vee.”

The mask he wore all week combusts, the chips flying in every direction, and tears scratch at the back of my eyelids. The confirmation that his whole “bad guy” persona was a lie is just as much a relief as it is devastating. I have to tap into every drop of self-control in my body to break away from him.

“Then why did you break my heart?” I choke out.

He flinches at my teary eyes, the way he always does, and drags a long sigh, resting his forehead against mine.

“Because I had to.”

With that said, he claims my mouth again, and I lurch forward, gripping his shirt. I lose myself into another heated kiss. Anger festers in me, and I curse my body’s intolerable yearning for him. I hate how every fiber of my being needs his lips more than an explanation.

“That’s not an answer,” I insist through the kiss.

“It’s the only answer I can give you.” He bites my lower lip.

I’m deeply wounded by his reply, but I kiss him again.

And again.