Page 33 of Playing Hard to Hate

TATUM

PRESENT

Griffin had stayed the night. Again .

He forced one of the chairs from my dining set under the doorjamb after double-checking that it was locked and that my dead bolt was secured, all while muttering that he was buying me a better lock the next day.

Then he turned around, gray eyes searching mine, like he was waiting for me to break.

I only glared at him before he told me to go to bed and that no one would make it into my apartment.

A small, very tiny, almost minuscule part of me loved that he cared so much.

Okay, fine. I lied. A huge part of me, the one who dreamed of dating Griffin, was jumping up and down and squealing in my head.

But I remained stone cold toward him. We were barely friends, not really enemies anymore, but not anything of importance either.

I didn’t think the robbers even cared about little ole me. Sure, I had a decent following on social media, so they could probably assume I had some money, and maybe they wanted to get some payback, but being seen in all the articles with Griffin meant his wealth was now involved .

I truthfully didn’t want to think that any of this was even real.

I had hoped they would be locked away for a little bit, enough time for me to find the courage to go back to the grocery store, but that wasn’t my reality, and Griffin was scared, truly and utterly scared, which terrified the absolute shit out of me.

I didn’t want him to know that, though, when he insisted on staying the night and said that there was no way he could leave me alone after receiving news like that.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d ever seen him this scared.

Maybe it was the day he told his dad he wouldn’t stop playing ball in middle school after he kept losing game after game.

But even then, there had been a determination in his eyes, like he knew this was what he was meant to do.

Something was different now. Maybe time had aged him, and he realized that we weren’t as immortal as we thought.

When we were kids, I remember feeling like I’d never grow up.

Time had seemed to stand still. My skin was unmarred from the harsh reality of life, my mind innocent, and my heart forever trusting.

Now I was covered in scars, my mind poisoned by society, and my heart was fractured beyond repair.

Naturally I tried to fight him on his decision to stay in my apartment. Lately, all we could do was fight. It was easier than giving in to the feelings, so much easier than the potential of falling for him and losing him again . I don’t think Millie could save me from that kind of loss.

I reminded him that I had been living on my own for years.

I reminded him that he wasn’t my boyfriend.

I reminded him I was a grown-ass woman.

What did he do?

Well, first, he called me kitten. And I was starting to love that stupid term of endearment, all because he’d taken the time to think of a silly name for me. No one had ever done that before .

But what he did next left me breathless, confused, and consumed with desire.

He stalked me in my own apartment.

He slowly walked closer to me where I was standing in the kitchen. His gray eyes were dark, a sexy crooked grin turned his lips, and his steps were slow and calculated.

I was his.

But there wasn’t an ounce of fear in my body. Nope, not one measly ounce, because some sick part of my mind was loving this.

He kept moving closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between us. His toes brushed mine in our sock-clad feet, and I swear I felt chills all the way up to the roots of my hair.

He pushed me flush against the fridge with his chest, grabbed my wrists, held them over my head, and kissed me. For the third time.

Then told me to take my cute ass and go to bed.

It took me an hour to fall asleep, maybe longer. It wasn’t like I was exactly counting, but when I woke up in the morning, there was a new lock installed on the door, a note on the kitchen counter about needing to go to practice, and to call if I noticed anything suspicious.

Tatum

You didn’t need to change my locks.

Griffin

Morning, kitten.

Tatum

I won’t be calling.

Griffin

Just want you to be safe.

Tatum

I promise they aren’t worried about me. I’m a nobody.

Griffin

You’re someone to me.

Tatum

Says the MLB all-star…You’re annoying.

Griffin

I told u…while I’m living and breathing, you’re mine. Love those little claws.

Tatum

Better not see you here again tonight.

Griffin

Tate, I don’t think you should be alone.

Have Millie stay over.

I texted your brother.

Tatum

I don’t need anyone to protect me. I’ve been alone since my mom died, and I’ve been perfectly fine.

You did what? Who on earth gave you permission to involve him?

Griffin

Your mom would have wanted you protected.

Tatum

Don’t talk about her.

Griffin

I have to go. Talk later. Remember, I’m a call away, kitten.

I scrolled through my phone, interrupted not even a minute later by a call from Dustin .

“How are you handling everything?” Direct and to the point as usual.

“Fine, you don’t need to worry.” I filled my kettle with water and hit the button for it to boil while I searched my pantry for some tea bags.

“You sound tense.”

“It’s early, Dustin.”

“Griffin is worried, Tatum.”

“He shouldn’t have told you. It was none of his business to involve you in this petty drama,” I bit, fighting the urge to grind my teeth.

“If it were up to you, you wouldn’t have called. I need to know what’s going on, and he had every right to tell me. You’re important to me, Tatum. Do you want me to fly down there? I can move some things around at work. I just need a day or two.”

“No, absolutely not. They were some robbers looking for quick cash. I’m not worth the trouble to them.

Hell, Dustin, the guy was shaking so bad he didn’t know what he was doing.

” I found a lavender tea bag and went back to the kitchen where I let it hang in my favorite cup and then poured in the boiling water.

“If anything changes, and I mean anything—if you get scared or think something fishy is going on—you call me, Tatum. You fucking call me. I’m serious.”

“Did you tell Dad?” I added some sugar to the tea and slowly stirred as I waited for his response.

“Yes.” He hesitated because he knew what a loser our dad was. He fucking knew but didn’t want to admit it.

“He didn’t call. Guess I’m not important to him. I will call you if something happens. Not that I think it will, but you, big brother, will be my first call.”

Griffin had texted a few more times during the day. To get him off my back I lied and told him Millie was sleeping over.

We had a lengthy FaceTime during the day, but she was not sleeping over.

I went to the gym as usual and noticed a few more extra eyes on me than normal.

I put it down to all the articles swimming around about Griffin and me.

It had gotten me more attention in the gym for sure, but I’d been able to ignore it.

I was used to people staring. Girls were envious and typically glared.

Not my fault they didn’t keep to a strict diet and routine, and then the men just perved like it was their right to look at my body.

People walking across the room to do one set for a muscle they clearly don’t train, while looking at me out of the corner of their eye type of annoyance.

I had learned to focus on myself. It took years to perfect that skill, but for the most part, I’d been able to avoid awkward conversations until today.

“You’re the girl from the robbery?” a guy asked me in the gym today.

He was one of the stereotypical overbearing old guys reliving his youth, sweatbands around his head and wrists, tiny shorts, and worse, a tank top with one of his nipples peeking out every time he moved.

I wanted to tell him that he was about ten years late to the trends but refrained.

I nodded, trying to avoid conversation.

“What does your boyfriend think about them being let off the hook?”

I was working on toning my arms today. I had ten-pound barbells in each hand and was doing very slow bicep curls. I had headphones on and a hat covering the majority of my face .

Clearly, he didn’t get the message that I was not here to chat.

“He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sorry. The newspaper said…” He kept talking, but I zoned out. Of course he still read the newspaper.

“I’m in the middle of my workout. Do you mind?” I interrupted him, not in the mood for small talk. I was here to work on my body, not relationships with the people of Newsom Creek.

“Sorry.” He nodded and went back to doing his push-ups. I wanted to tell him his form was wrong, but that would mean starting a conversation, and I wasn’t here to make any friends.

That night, I watched one of my favorite comfort shows, made grilled chicken and pasta for dinner, and then spent two hours scrolling on TikTok. I had posted a new video and was looking for new content ideas, so technically I was working.

A knock at my door startled me, and I warily paused my show and looked through the peephole on the door.

No one was there. Checking that the door was, in fact, locked, I went back to watching TV when I heard a commotion in the hallway.

It wasn’t uncommon. The walls were thin, but my nerves were on edge.

I jumped when the neighbor’s dog barked, and noise penetrated the walls.

Doing the dishes, I turned the TV volume louder and nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard another knock at the front door. I checked the peephole again. No one was there.

It also wasn’t the first time I’d fallen victim to being ding-dong ditched. There was a group of middle school kids who lived in the building who liked to play the stupid game every now and then. I assumed this was the case, but I wasn’t in the mood tonight.

A floorboard creaked, and I slammed the dishwasher shut, picked up my phone, and texted Griffin.

Tatum

Any big plans tonight?

Griffin

I’m ten minutes away.

Tatum

I never asked you to come over. Why are you in the area?

Griffin

I knew you wouldn’t invite Millie to your “tv night.”

Tatum

Like you’d know. Griff turn around. LMK when you get home. Not in the mood.

Griffin

Not in the mood for ice cream? That’s not the Tatum Grace I know.

Tatum

Doesn’t fit my macros.

Griffin

We could burn some calories in the bedroom.

Tatum

In your dreams.

Griffin

Careful, kitten. You feature in my dreams every night.

Tatum

Gross.

When he did finally arrive, I’d been sitting on the couch with a bat I’d found in Dustin’s room.

I kept hearing fucking noises in the hallway, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

He glanced at the bat, his gray eyes dark and calculating.

He didn’t question it. Instead, he handed me a pint of vanilla ice cream. So much for my diet.

I grabbed two spoons from the kitchen, and he sat beside me on the couch, where my show was playing softly in the background. He had his own tub of strawberry ice cream. Some things did not change.

“I was scared,” I admitted after ten minutes of silence.

“It’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe now.”