Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

“I love you.” I slip up, and my heart fractures in two.

In four.

In six.

In a thousand fucking pieces.

Idiot. Why did you say it back?

Why would you make it sound like there’s hope for you two? Why would you make him think you’ll ever say a word to him again after this?

Sweaty and exhausted, Xavier and I collapse into each other’s arms, and as I blink back tears, I find comfort in knowing the greatest love stories all have an expiration date…

I just wish ours didn’t have to be today.

Xavier

At what point does a guy accept their new wuss status?

How many unanswered texts does it take before you officially declare yourself a whipped little bitch? According to my calculations, I should be falling to Aveena’s feet, begging for scraps of her attention any day now.

She was still naked in my bed, with her perfect, pierced tit in my palm when I passed out. She was still there—still mine.

Until… she wasn’t.

She left.

She gave me the best sex of my entire fucking life and took off.

I don’t know what I was expecting to happen. I didn’t think she’d go from moaning to my name and coming on my cock to treating me like a complete stranger, that’s for sure. She hasn’t answered my texts in days. She won’t even look at me, staring right through me in the halls.

It’s like I never had her facedown, ass up on my bed. Like I never poured out my whole fucking heart to her.

Sleeping with her again settled it.

I need her. End of story. The girl’s become my best friend, the only person I trust, the only real thing in my life. She sees me for me. Sees Zac where everybody sees Xavier. She sees the guy behind the walls of useless popularity, title, and reputation.

I need Aveena Harper.

Any fucking way I can get her.

I figured I’d start texting her in secret. Sneak out every night to see her. Then she gave me a taste of my own medicine and ghosted me. Seeing her at school every day looking damn good, her long pink hair swinging from side to side as she walks away from me… Definition of torture.

That shit feels like falling to a slow, never-ending death. The real kicker is, I bet she thinks she’s successfully pushed me away. That I’ll forget all about her and abstain from going after what I want.

Oh, Harper… I don’t play to play.

I play to win.

Eyes glued to my phone, I slam my locker shut and lob my gym bag strap over my shoulder while Finn and Theo wrestle each other like professional dimwits. Practice was rough today, and believe it or not, Coach Diaz had nothing to do with it.

It was Vee.

All Vee.

Fucking with my mind.

I couldn’t stop glaring at Brie and her pom-poms across the gym. Caught myself wishing Brie would fall when tossed in the air by her squad of wannabes.