Page 50 of Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Because I did.

Very much so.

Hey, at least I’m not a staring pig like Axel.

“Jesus Christ, where has she been hiding that body?” Axel is on a roll. “I’d fuck her in the ass so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk for a mont—”

I smack him in the back of the head. Hard. He blinks at me in shock. But no one’s nearly as shocked as I am.

Why the hell did I just do that?

“Classy, bro,” I try and justify it.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t hit that,” Axel accuses.

I’d hit you.

In the face.

With a brick.

Does that count?

“You should see her sister,” Theo chimes in. “Good genes in this family, I’m telling you.”

The conversation shifts toward Vee’s sister, and I stop paying attention, fidgeting with my phone. I have five unopened texts from Brie, asking when we can meet up to fuck.

And none from Love.

She never texted me back after I asked her to tell me something about herself. Maybe she felt pressured?

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that?

I snort.

Look at you.

Getting all bent out of shape over some girl you’ll never meet.

I study

Theo’s jam-packed living room and wonder what Love is doing right now. If she’s as bored as I am. If she’s home alone or stuck at a party, too. All my questions dwindle into oblivion when the front door swings open and a familiar voice carries through the house.

“Is it just me, or are Theodore Cox’s parties not what they used to be?”

My entire body tenses.

No.

Not him.

Not now.

Theo and Axel don’t waste a second springing to their feet and greeting the bastard by the door. A month ago, I would’ve been right behind them. But now? I can barely stand to be in the same room as this motherfucker.

I keep my ass drilled to the couch, chugging the drink in my hand in one go. I crush the red cup with all my strength, milking every last drop and wishing it was a certain backstabber’s skull. Then I unlock my phone and pretend to be in the middle of a fascinating conversation with no one.

The only acknowledgement this guy is going to get from me is a meeting with my fist.