Page 12 of Playing Hard to Hate

EIGHT YEARS AGO

Tate was starting to look pretty. Real freaking pretty, like I wanted to kiss her pretty, but she was my best friend, not my girlfriend.

I shook the thought away while I tried not to watch her bite her pencil as she focused really hard on the teacher and whatever equation he had on the board.

She was terrible with math, and even though she was laser-focused, I would have to explain it again tonight over Skype while we did homework.

Graham and Hunter had girlfriends, some twins they mutually knew, so naturally, they were dating.

They just went to the movies and kissed a lot and then went for ice cream and kissed some more, which sounded lame to me, and definitely not something Tate and I would do together.

For starters, she actually liked to watch the movie, especially since she worked all summer to be able to afford movie tickets.

But the thought of kissing her was twisting my stomach into a terrible knot because the more I looked at her, the more I wanted to do it, but I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. She was my best friend .

“Hey, you gonna stop staring at Tate and pay attention?” Hunter whispered from my side, chuckling.

“Dude, you should make a move,” Graham said from behind me.

These two were trouble.

“We’re just friends,” I told them for the hundredth time.

“Riiight.” Hunter and Graham both snorted.

“Am I interrupting something, boys?” the teacher asked, some middle-aged man peering down at us over his glasses, his bald head shining under the fluorescent lights of the room.

“No,” I answered quickly, diverting the attention away from us, but Tate glanced at me, squinted her eyes like she was trying to figure out what was going on back here, then focused back on the teacher.

After class, she and I met up at our lockers. We had managed to get them right next to each other, and I knew from the look in her green eyes she was about to pry.

“So what happened in class? Unlike you to be talking,” she commented, switching her math textbook for the literature one.

“Those two knuckleheads were starting crap again,” I dismissed.

“Are we still on for tonight?” she asked, closing her locker and shoving her book into her shoulder bag.

I grimaced because I had made plans with the twins already after we won our baseball game this week.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll just hang with my mom. We can catch up on The Bachelor .”

I saw the flicker of disappointment in her gaze at my face and then saw her smile fade even more when I didn’t tell her to cancel her plans.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” she said and then walked away, just as the twins magically appeared at my side .

“Party tonight at one of the junior’s houses. His parents are out of town. Will your parents mind if you go home late?” Hunter asked, and I nodded.

“All right, just stay at ours then,” Graham suggested.

“Yours don’t care?” I found it hard to believe because even my no-show dad knew if I was in the house or not.

“Out of town at some business conference,” Hunter said, and I nodded. They were away a lot, leaving the twins alone most weekends.

“Catch you later,” I said, grabbing my biology textbook and heading to class.

Tate, Graham, Hunter, and I sat together at lunch now.

Tate seemed to get along with them from the few conversations they had, but mostly, the twins spoke to each other and ignored Tate and me.

But today was different. They had invited some of the other players to our table, some of the older players, and with them came the girls.

Tate squeezed herself next to me on the small bench and pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, meaning money was tight at home. I handed her my chocolate bar like it was routine at this point, and one of the girls noticed.

“Aw, cute. How long have you two been together?” she asked, twirling her blonde hair around her perfectly manicured nail.

“We’re not,” Tate said and looked to me for help.

“Just friends,” I finished.

“So you’re single then?” the blonde pressed, and I looked over to Tate, who was already looking at me. Did she want to be more?

“Yes,” I said, watching the happiness drain from Tate’s green eyes. I wanted to take it back, but it was too late.

“So you’ll be my date for the party tonight?” she asked, and I started to nod before I heard Tate’s sharp exhale .

“You’re ditching me for a party?” she whispered as all eyes landed on her. “What the hell, Griff?”

She was so hurt, and it was crushing me.

“I didn’t think you’d want to come,” I told her as she handed me back the half-eaten chocolate bar. She’d never done that before.

“You didn’t even ask.” She started to stand from her seat, and I pulled her back down.

“Don’t go.” I found myself begging.

“Let me go, Griffin. You’re embarrassing me,” she gritted through clenched teeth.

“You don’t need to leave. This is our table,” I told her, not letting go of her forearm.

“I don’t belong here anymore. I don’t suit your image. Otherwise, you would have invited me. You are just like my dad and Dustin. Leaving behind something good for the possibility of something better.” Her words, like venom from a serpent, pierced my heart as she stood, and this time, I let her go.

“So, is that a yes?” the blonde asked, not realizing that in that moment, I had just lost my best friend, all because I was trying to fit in with the team and be cool.

“Sure,” I told her as I watched Tate walk away, not even sparing me a glance as she walked out of the cafeteria. She didn’t look over at me again the rest of the day in our classes, and when I tried to talk to her at our lockers at the end of the day, she wasn’t there.

I called her cell three times Friday afternoon before the party.

I left said stupid party early, after telling the stupid blonde girl to find another baseball player to grope.

I called my mom and asked her to pick me up, and she came without question.

I called Tate another two times and even showed up at her doorstep the following morning, where her mom asked me to give Tate some space .

Monday morning, she wasn’t in first or second period, the two classes we shared together in the morning. I heard from Hunter she was in literature, so I figured she’d be at lunch, but no. I had brought two king-size Snickers bars to apologize.

And that was the end of an almost ten-year friendship, but unlucky for her, we were stuck with the same lockers for the rest of high school.