Like You Hate Me (Hawthorne University #1)

by Bethany Winters

“Fuck, baby, you look so pretty,” I whisper, possessively grazing my thumb over the hickey beneath his ear. “You look like mine.” “Don’t,” he pleads, and I cock my head, watching him look up at me with sad eyes and a fragile heart. “Don’t make me fall for you.”

“Do you mean it when you say you hate me?” “No,” I admit, barely even thinking about it as I wrap my arms around his neck and lean up to brush my lips over his. “Most of the time I’m just pretending.”

“I’m not gonna try to make you jealous.” His arms come around my neck, his breath tickling my jaw. “I’m not trying to make you mad, Nate. I just wanted to look good for you.”

“I want to mean something to you,” I admit. “Anything. I want you to remember me after you decide you’re done with me and kick me out of your life for good. I wanna ruin you so bad that it’s me you’ll think about every time you’re fucking the person you really wanna be with.”

“Baby, he’s balls deep in love with you and he hates you for it. That’s why he’s treating you like shit. That’s probably why he’s always treated you like shit.”

“I don’t want you to forget,” he whispers, holding my gaze as he blinks the fresh tears from his eyes. “I just want you to love me anyway.”

“You told him I was in love with him, Carter!” I shout. “You know me better than anyone and now you’re acting like he’s nothing to me.” He frowns at me over his shoulder, looking genuinely confused, his face smushed up against the mirror. “If he’s not nothing, then what is he?” “He’s everything, you idiot,” I blurt out, blinking at my reflection as soon as the words leave my lips.

“Where’s home, Nate?” he bites out, throwing back the same question I asked him not so long ago. Holding his wrists with both hands, I move closer until my chest is flush against his, placing his warm hands on both sides of my neck. “It’s wherever I am, Xav.”

“Jesus Christ. I love you, okay?” I damn near shout, pushing him down on his back and crawling on top of him. “I hate myself for it but I fucking love you.” “That’s sweet.”

Barely hesitating, I take the chain off and open the clasp before I drop the ring into my palm. Taking his right hand, I slide it onto his middle finger where he used to wear it. “Nate, what…?” “It’s yours, baby,” I say, running my finger over my number. “I’m yours.”

“I love you,” he finally says. “I’ve always loved you.” “I know,” I tease, brushing my lips against his. “I just wanted to hear you say it to me.”

“I don’t give a shit what makes them happy. You make me happy. Most of the time,”