Page 135 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Are you Love?

I wrestle with the idea of telling her for five minutes and come to the conclusion that I can’t navigate this storm alone. I need to tell someone. And I can’t think of a better person than my oldest friend.

Aveena: Yes, I am.

Dia starts typing out a reply immediately, and I cradle my knees against my chest, awaiting her answer.

“Vee?” A loud succession of knocks rattles my bedroom door. I recognize Ashley’s voice. Mom isn’t home yet, which is weird considering she’s usually downstairs ordering dinner by now. She doesn’t cook, remember?

“Yeah?” I yawn.

“You have a visitor.”

What?

“Who is it?”

“A boy from your school,” she says.

I sit up straight, my mind racing.

Xavier?

“Says he’s here to drop off your homework,” she adds.

What on earth is he doing here?

He can’t be here.

Not when I look like I haven’t slept in a century, am not wearing a bra or underwear under my pj’s, my room is a condemned trash can, and my hair is a wet, tangled disaster from just getting out of the shower.

“T-tell him I don’t feel like seeing anyone,” I stammer.

My sister chortles on the other side, and my door opens a crack. Ashley pops her head into the small gap, a disconcerting smirk on her face, and says, “Tell him yourself.” She nudges the door open fully, and I damn near yelp when I see him standing in the doorway.

My confidant.

My secret pen pal who’s not a secret anymore.

Xavier. Fucking. Emery.

He ventures into my bedroom the next second, his tousled brown hair an intentionally perfect mess and his stunning eyes rimmed with dark circles. Even tired as shit, the boy puts Greek gods to shame.

He’s wearing sweats and an opened zip-up hoodie over his basketball jersey, a sign that he came directly from practice. I peek at the time on my phone.

Wait…

He didn’t come from practice.

He should be at practice right now. I would know. Dia’s always talking my ears off about how impatient she is for Finn to sneak into her bedroom afterward. From where I’m standing, it looks like Xav got dressed, made it halfway to practice, then did a full 180.

Did he seriously ditch basketball practice to show up at my house? Knowing the most important game of his life is coming up on Friday? This game is his one-way ticket to Duke, for fuck’s sake. Is he insane?

“I’ll leave you to your homework,” Ashley says with a smug grin, her voice crammed with innuendos, and closes the door.

As soon as her footsteps fade into oblivion, I spring off my bed, too irritated to mind my indecent outfit. Let’s just say this tank top leaves very little to the imagination and my pierced nipples have been on high alert from the moment Xav walked into the room, but I couldn’t care less.

Someone has to talk some sense into this dumbass.