Page 17 of Playing Hard to Hate

GRIFFIN

PRESENT

I had crossed the line. Every single fucking line that existed, I diminished in a stupid second, and fuck, I didn’t regret it. I got her first kiss. I got to be the first one to taste Tatum Grace, and now I wanted to be the only one to ever hear those little moans.

I stepped back and watched her slowly open her green eyes. She was completely dazed. She scanned my face, eyes lingering on my lips, and then she was pushing me away, her hands on my chest.

“We shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have done that. You. You. You.” She jabbed a finger in my chest but never finished her thought.

“I’m sorry?” I raised my hands up in defense. Fuck, she had looked so perfect coming out of the bathroom, all fresh-faced and in this cute pajama set. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I…I…I don’t know, Griffin. Maybe because I’m drunk, or maybe because I’ve dreamed of this moment my entire life. But to you, I’m just another notch on that never-ending belt!” she screamed and then instantly slapped a hand to her mouth. Her eyes grew large .

“Tate.”

“Get out of my room. Just get out.”

“You aren’t another notch.”

“Get out, Griffin!”

“Listen to me, Tate. You aren’t another notch. You’re the girl from next door. You know all my secrets. You aren’t like the other girls. I’ve always wanted to kiss you too.” I grabbed her arms and held on, despite her pulling away from me.

“Griff, please,” she cried, dropping her head to my chest and begging me to do something I wasn’t sure of.

“I’m not sorry for kissing you.”

“It can’t happen again,” she whispered.

“If you insist.”

“Go to bed. I need sleep,” she said tiredly and pulled away from me. This time, I didn’t hold on to her when she walked over to her bed and started to climb in, flicking off the lamp beside the bed.

“I’ll just shower and then head to bed.”

“Night, Fin.”

“Tate?”

“Yeah?”

“I never hated you.”

“I never hated you either.”

I slipped out the next morning before she woke up, giving her the space she needed, and I had practice early that morning. I needed to swing by my place and change, and if I had time, I needed to go for a run. I had to get her out of my fucking head.

She had plagued my dreams all night. Her words. Her soft moans. I dreamed of a world where we were more than frenemies. Not that she would ever agree to that, not after the way she reacted last night. I might have been her first kiss dream, but I don’t think I was her boyfriend dream.

I’d never dated someone long-term. And Tate would either be forever or not at all. I wasn’t ready to cross that line.

If we dated and things didn’t work, I’d lose her forever. Right now, I at least still had a small piece of her in my life. A very fucking small piece, but it eased the guilt and regret that consumed me for how I handled things as kids. I never should have pushed her away.

She was my best friend, and I pushed her to the curb and then knocked her down every time she tried to get up. I wished more than anything I could go back and be the guy she needed, especially when her mother died. I wasn’t there when she needed me the most.

“Head is in the clouds today, Silver,” Hunter commented during drills after I fumbled a ball.

“Not sure what you’re talking about,” I mumbled, picking up the ball.

“We saw you leave the bar with Tatum last night,” Graham said, taking off his hat and swiping at the sweat on his forehead.

It was brutally hot this morning. News reporters mentioned something about a heat wave, which was not common for Atlanta.

“You were grinning ear to fucking ear when you brought her over to the bar, and she was so drunk she didn’t even recognize us.” Hunter laughed.

“Fucking loser she was with tried pressuring her into sex when she was trying to leave.”

“The ass who wanted all our autographs?” Graham questioned .

“Yup, I took her home and slept over.”

“Slept over? You didn’t have sex with her, did you?” Hunter waggled his brows, knowing I’d had a hard-on for that girl for far too long.

“Finally get her out of your system?” Graham followed with.

“Fuck you. She’s a friend…nothing more. Both of you are being fucking ridiculous. She was drunk. I wouldn’t do that to anyone. Now drop it.”

“Look, Griffin, you can go lie to some idiot who doesn’t know you, but we both know the truth. You may be able to blind side her with your bullshit, but we’re your boys.”

I rolled my eyes. I hated them.

“Oh no, he’s pitching in her honor. This strikeout is for you, Tatum!” Graham pretended to swoon, fanning himself.

“Better not blow it. Imagine you make us lose the whole fucking championship.”

“Don’t fuck this up,” Graham demanded.

Pointing at them, I glared. “Keep talking, and I’m sending fastballs right at your ribs during batting practice.”

“Oh, he thinks he’s pitching again. Take a look at this guy. Talk about a big ego.” Hunter laughed, doubling over.

“Better watch out. Next, he’ll be too cool to sit with us,” Graham said to his twin.

“You’re both fucking idiots,” I mumbled under my breath. “We’ll see who has the last laugh.”

The next day, most of the workout machines needed servicing at my penthouse, so I decided to go to the gym in my hometown, thinking it would be much quieter than the one in my building and all the local ones here.

I figured a quick 45-minute session before dinner with my parents would help blow off some of the steam from yesterday’s practice and the whole kiss scenario with Tatum.

The hour-long drive back to Newsom Creek was annoying, but surprisingly, the time went by quickly after my mother called. She’d heard some rumors about Tate and me and wanted to know the truth.

I didn’t know how to tell her that the little girl she used to love was now a total ice queen who hated my guts, so instead I brushed her off, making up excuses as to why I wasn’t bringing her home for dinner tonight.

I wasn’t expecting to walk into the small 3000-square-foot-at-most gym to see Tate there, mid-squat with a kettlebell in her hands. Every single male in the room was staring. I think one guy was recording her, but he slid his phone into his pocket really fast when he caught my eye.

I headed over to where she had set her things in the corner and dropped my duffel bag to the ground.

She had a pair of headphones on, her dark hair swept up into a messy bun, and just her eyes rimmed black instead of her usual makeup routine.

I saw her phone set up in the corner on a tripod aimed directly at her and wondered what the hell she was doing.

She pretended I wasn’t there until she started her set of squats.

“Don’t you have your own fancy gym?” she asked in between heavy breaths.

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, and I did my best not to ogle her body in the tight spandex shorts and black sports bra.

She didn’t wear much to work out in, that was for sure.

Probably why she didn’t have a problem wearing that strappy bikini.

“Machines are being serviced, and since I need everything to be perfect,” I started, stretching as she picked up her kettlebell again and did another set of squats.

“You always wear so few clothes?” I asked when she stopped, sat on a small bench, and took her headphones off to analyze me.

“You are always so nosy? I mean seriously, why? First the photoshoot is a problem, and next you have a problem with my gym clothes? It’s my job.

It didn’t seem like such a problem when you got your kiss the other night.

” She rolled her eyes and crossed the room, putting the kettlebell back with the others.

On her way back, she smiled and waved at another girl and then adjusted her phone to point at the bench she’d been sitting on.

She grabbed a twenty-pound dumbbell and raised her one leg onto the bench to do Bulgarian squats. I fucking hated those.

She switched legs after eight reps, dropped the dumbbell, and headed straight for her phone, where she appeared to watch the video she’d just taken.

“Why do you record yourself? Who’s the video for?” I asked nervously, grabbing a set of dumbbells to do bicep curls in the mirror. I watched my reflection as I alternated arms, doing a light warm-up before switching to a heavier set.

“It’s my job,” she said, watching me, her eyes narrowing on my biceps filling the sleeves of my hoodie.

“I thought you were a model?” I dropped the weights and took a quick water break.

“I’m a fitness influencer, actually. Model has a kind of snobby ring to it.

I’m just showing off what my momma gave me sprinkled with years of hard work is all.

After all, it’s normal for people to have two personalities.

You of all people should know.” She wasn’t looking at me anymore, busy typing away on her phone, nails clicking obnoxiously loudly.

I choked on my own laughter because the girl I knew hated—and I mean hated—anything physical. I had to coax this girl to run with me during PE as kids. I’d bribe her with chocolate, and it worked.

“You’re shitting me, right?”

She shook her head and side-eyed me like I had a death wish.

“You still eat chocolate?”

She nodded, furrowing her brows and squinting her eyes like she could send laser beams through my neck.

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

“I’m just trying to understand what happened to the girl who hated PE.

I mean, it makes sense. Your body is toned to perfection, but it’s so not you.

” I said it like I knew it wasn’t true, but this was the first time a girl ever made me feel the least bit nervous around her.

No longer was I more worried about stupid things like whether or not she’d be my next fling, but rather that she had me micro analyzing everything I was saying making sure I wasn’t leading her on.

“People change.” She shrugged, setting up the phone again. “Now get out of my shot.” Her irritation built as the conversation continued. I could tell she wasn’t exactly happy to see me, and I felt powerless. I hated this feeling.

I moved over to the side and watched her do another set of Bulgarian squats.

The silence built as she arranged her next angle to show which glute muscle would be activated at which point of the rep. Damn, the muscle control this woman had was something I’d never been close to. I wondered if she worked harder than me in the gym.

“You sure you don’t want me in there? Might get you more views. You can tell your followers you trained me for the day or something.”

She glared at me .

“I don’t need you to boost my following, Griffin. I’ve got hundreds of famous athletes in my DMs, and you don’t see me talking to them, do you?” She paused, waiting for my response. When I didn’t open my goddamn mouth quickly enough, she kept on talking. “Thought so.”

“Ha.” I blew out a fake laugh as I inhaled a deep breath. The tension was building in my chest.

“Look, Griff, I’ve worked hard to get to this point on my own, without any help. I don’t plan on that changing who I am for anyone anytime soon.”

“Just being friendly.”

“Cool, well guess what? I don’t want to be friends.” She set her dumbbells back on the rack, picked up her things, and moved to the hip thrust machine in the other corner of the room.

Luckily for me, no one seemed to really notice who I was. Not that I thought I’d have a problem in my hometown, but I kept a hat and a black hoodie on to hide myself as much as possible.

After another set of bicep curls, I found their one and only tricep machine, set the weight low, and gradually got heavier, doing my damnedest not to look at the girl in the corner of the room. She was thrusting 180 pounds like it was fucking nothing, and I was beyond impressed.

Unable to help myself, I walked over to her and noticed her form was a little off. She had to be feeling this in her back.

“You need to adjust your form,” I told her when she took her headphones off, and those green eyes roamed my face.

“I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

“Then why haven’t you gone heavier?” I pressed, knowing the reason why.

“Don’t need to.”

“Adjust your position and do smaller thrusts. You’ll get twice the gains and be able to go heavier. Here, I’ll spot you.” I racked the weight on for her, and with a very giant eye roll, she tried my suggestion and then grinned when she managed to do a set of eight repetitions.

“Holy shit, I felt that so much more,” she said, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll see you around. I’ve got dinner with my parents tonight.”

A sadness filled her eyes at my statement, and my heart ached for her.

“You better enjoy every second of it, Griff. I’d kill to be in your shoes.”

What I wasn’t expecting was to come home and find my usually calm-as-can-be mom in an absolute frenzy in the kitchen. Flour dusted the countertops, a pot on the stove was dangerously close to boiling over, and she was muttering under her breath about how nothing was ready.

“Mom?” I hesitated in the doorway, glancing at my dad, who was beside her, fumbling through the cabinets like an idiot.

“Other people are joining us for dinner,” she said, exasperated, barely looking up as she chopped vegetables at lightning speed. “And I swear, if this roast doesn’t come out right, I’m?—”

I wasn’t sure if she meant to finish that sentence, but she waved a hand in the air like that was enough explanation before shoving a grocery list into my hands.

“Go,” she said, already moving to the oven. “We need milk and ice cream.”

I blinked. “Ice cream? For whom?”

She sighed dramatically. “For the guests, Griffin. And hurry, please.”

“Who are the guests?”

“Clients of mine,” Dad said, not even bothering to look at me .

Shaking my head, I grabbed my keys and turned for the door.

So much for a quiet night at home.

As I stepped outside, the cool air hit my face, and I couldn’t help but wonder who exactly was important enough to throw my mom into this kind of frenzy.