I Hate You (Waylon University, #3)

by Ilsa Madden-Mills

Don’t want them. I think months of celibacy might have been a big fucking clue. Last night meant something and I want to see what it is, but if you don’t want me, just tell me. Tell me right now. Write it out nice and neat in that smart-girl handwriting you have, and I’ll tape it to my mirror so I can see it every day when I get up.

I pick up my pen again and think about us in her bed, the way she felt like home…the way I know I was looking at her, everything there in my eyes. Doesn’t she know… I’m just a guy who doesn’t know how to do this. I want you. I wanted you freshman year. I wanted you last fall. I want you now, Charm. Let’s see what this is.

He’s got on jeans and a blue button-up shirt, and the sleeves are rolled up, his roped forearms taut and muscular. He looks hot, his hair styled back and gelled off his face as if he’s taken care with it.

“Trust me, he doesn’t care—or if he does, he’s never said so.” He said I want you. Mike thinks, his gaze bouncing from me to Blaze. “Some guys aren’t much for pretty words, but their eyes tell the story. His are…scary.”

Somewhere, he’s going to be big, and I wish he could see what I see when I look at him: beautiful man, talented in so many ways…and a coward when it comes to us.

But I need more than him just wanting me; I need him to be in this as deep as I am. I need him to feel as empty as I do when he’s not around, to ache and want to spend every moment with me.

I love him. Those feelings started freshman year when we kissed, and no matter how much I try to ignore how I felt, it only escalated when we spent time together last fall.

Love hurts; I know it does. Love is opening yourself up like a book, letting someone see your secrets with every paragraph and page exposed, knowing that the person you’re showing it ...

We don’t speak. We don’t have to. My hands find the base of his skull and I pull on the hair there, soft and then harder, until his mouth opens slightly. Standing on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his, our mouths touching, so soft. Tears prick at my eyes when he doesn’t give me one inch, not with his tongue or with a move to pull me close. I’m accosting him in front of the bathroom line like a crazed fan and— I don’t care. God…this.

He smells and feels like everything that’s precious, just like I knew he would. The sun, the moon, the sky. I sigh and say his name, tilting my head to fit his mouth full-on. My teeth nip at his bottom lip. My nipples bead and my breasts press into him, the feel of him under me like a hot brand on my skin. It’s not even his skin, just a stupid shirt, but it…it licks at me.

I feel when he capitulates, when his lips move with mine, when his arms embrace me and hang on. He takes control, his tongue inside my mouth, exploring me, taking, and I surrender to it. Take me, take me, my lips say. Love me and only me.

I never held hands with Charisma. I let my fingers brush hers but never went for it. I should have. I should have. What the fuck is wrong with me?

She huffs out a laugh. “I didn’t think so. She doesn’t look like your type, to be honest. I mean, I though she’d be…different.” “How?” I frown. “You know more…sorority girl, beautiful, or at least Southern. Her accent is super weird.” “She is in a sorority—Chi-O—and she is beautiful.”

I’m not listening. “She is my type. She’s fucking amazing. She makes me laugh my ass off. She’s believed in me since day one, okay? Never a doubt in her mind about what I can do with a football—”

“Is it okay for him to carry the bird like that?” I ask her as we walk out. She smiles. “Sure. The warmth of his chest is probably extremely comforting.” Indeed.

He walks up to me, a big smile on his face. “Aw, don’t be like that. Where you been all my life? My room is right down the hall—”

Dude, don’t even. She is waaaay too much car for you.

Looking magnificent in a rumpled and mussed way, Blaze leans against the doorjamb. He holds a bowl of popcorn and pops a few kernels in his mouth as he takes me in, eyebrow arched.

I take in his soft T-shirt with a hole in the shoulder, faded jeans, and bare feet.

Looking mighty fiiiiine.

Later, I’m closer to him, my leg pressed against his, and his hand…it sits right next to mine, his pinkie softly touching my skin. It’s not even a caress, just an acknowledgement that he’s aware of me, and I shiver.

Moving his arm, he presses his hand against mine. He leans down closer, our foreheads together. “This is me. This is my heart flying every time I see you. This is why I tried to let you go last fall…” He stops, his eyes closing for a moment then opening. “This is why I want your kisses all the time.”

“Your note. I keep it in my pocket sometimes. Had it with me that night at Cadillac’s. Had it with me at the library and the masquerade party. Had it last night.” I inhale. “Blaze…” “Let me finish.” He unwraps it slowly, and tears prick my eyes when I see how careful he is. “I love you, you wrote.” There’s awe in his voice.

He glances at me, searching my face. “I found it on my door after we broke up. Didn’t believe it, of course. Nobody’s ever said that to me. Not one person. Not even my aunt and uncle.”

“Let me finish.” He takes a breath. “I just figured you were trashed and saying things you didn’t mean. I mean, we were just having sex—even though it felt like more, you know? Couldn’t throw it away, never in a million years. You wrote it. You said it…and I wanted to believe it.”

“Did you mean it?” He’s staring at me, his breath seeming to halt. I close my eyes as the word falls from my lips. “Yes.” He doesn’t speak for a long time, and I open my lids to see him still looking at me, his expression full of wonder. “I do,” I whisper.

“Everyone in my life ends up leaving me at some point. You won’t, will you?” Never let him go. “I won’t.” His lips land on mine, soft, and I sigh and curl my hands around his neck.

She turns over to face me, still asleep, her face relaxed, lips parted. I brush a knuckle over them. She’s never kissed another guy here, and I know what that means to her. She meant it when she wrote I love you. I let those words reverberate in my chest.

She snuggles in closer to me, a sigh coming from her. Last night already feels far away, a fleeting moment, tenuous and fragile, so I kiss her, savoring the feel of her lips against mine.

She kisses her way up to my neck until she’s finally on my cheek, my chin. My body tightens, anxious for her lips on my mouth, and I let out a growl when her tongue touches mine then plays, dipping in and then coming back out. I lie back and let her make love to my mouth, kissing the corners, tilting her head and exploring, flicking her tongue against mine.

I can’t crawl inside her like I want to, but I think my kiss tells her how long I’ve waited.

She’s laughing as she pushes my jeans to my feet and throws them to the floor. My cock juts up, pointing straight at her, and I laugh. “He knows what he wants.”

“So do I.” She runs her hands from the tops of my bare shoulders to my thighs, where she tangles her hands in the leg hair there. Those big brown eyes lift to mine as she strokes my cock, rubbing her fingers over the head.

I suck her nipple through the lace while my hands unhook the back clasp. Her nipples are rosy and erect, her breasts straining as I massage them, licking and blowing on her skin. My fingers dip into her panties. “You slay me, hot and wet…” I rub circles on her clit. I slowly slide her underwear down until they’re gone. I just stare down at her, taking all of her perfection in.

My thumbs spread her apart, and when she tries to close her legs, I tsk. “Let me see you. We never did this, Charm, and I can’t stop thinking about you on your bed that day. I wanted to put my mouth on you and taste you. I wanted to play with this…”

She spreads her legs and clutches the sheets as I own her with my tongue, taking and lapping, her little gasps making me hotter. Her body is wet, dripping down her leg, her nub hard as I take it in my mouth and flick it.

“Never.” I laugh and write my name on her with my tongue. Blaze. She writhes under me. Her legs move restlessly on the bed and her skin turns a rosy color.

“Promise you won’t get tired of me, Charm. Promise me you’ll stay.” I say the words against her skin, not able to look at her, terrified of my own vulnerability. My tongue flicks at her as I slide my fingers inside. “Say it, baby.” Her hands clutch my head as she bows up closer to me. “I promise, I promise…”

And then we’re kissing again, and a sense of completeness fills me. She feels so right. This feels right. Is this what love is? Is that what’s driven me to near madness every time she’s gotten close to me? I want her. I want her. I want her. For as long as I can hang on to her.

Perfect days of us together, me at his place, him at mine, barely a night apart. We can’t get enough of each other, both of us eager to make up for so much lost time. I’m falling deeper into his dark waters, drifting and wading, listening to him describe how he grew up—without real love. He’s opening up to me, moment by moment, and I hang on to the seconds, my heart hoping he will give me everything.

Blaze is grinning at me as I slide in next to him, and my heart skips a beat when he rests his hand on my desk. His pinkie brushes mine.

He kisses me, and it’s hard and sweeping, part need and part frustration, both of us anxious, wondering what the coming weeks will hold. I get lost there, in his mouth, like I always do. I don’t know how I ever waited so long to have this intimacy with him, to share it with the man I love. His tongue sucks on mine, making me moan, and he gives me more, his hands already in my hair and pulling out my ponytail and palming my scalp, getting me as close to him as he can.

“I love you.” Her voice is incredibly soft, and I…I can’t breathe. The room spins a little, and I grasp the blankets to anchor myself. She’s never said it out loud. I inhale a deep gasp of air, and it shouldn’t be such a big deal that a girl has said she loves me, but it is. People use pretty words for their emotions, but I never have. In the grand scheme of things, they don’t matter. I prefer actions, but she…she needs more, and I know it. My heart pounds as fear inches in, of putting my feelings out there, of being completely vulnerable. Prickles of awareness hit me mid-chest, my gut pushing me, urging me to…

Later, I’ll beat down this fear, I fucking will, and I’ll tell her how I feel. I swear. I swear.

I can’t be the girl who’s always waiting for the guy to figure out what she means to him, all the while knowing he’s out there surrounded by other girls. I just can’t. I’d rather hurt like this until he’s out of my mind and out of my heart.

She’s scared, just like me, but she loves me—a poor trailer park kid from Mississippi.

I’ve been saying football is the one thing I can’t live without, but it’s a lie. She is. It’s her.

She’s been there the entire time, even when she had her rules, and I’ve got to be what she needs—because existing without her is not an option. And love? It’s just a word. It’s a pretty word that scrambles my head and makes me scared. Hell, maybe it makes lots of people afraid. Terrified of getting hurt, of being left behind, of giving a part of yourself to someone while knowing they have the power to change your whole world. But she’s worth fighting for.

“Don’t do that. Don’t be afraid to love. Please. You’ll never be happy if you don’t give people a chance. Me and your dad aren’t perfect, I know, but that is us, just us, not you. Please don’t…”

You’re going to have everything, and you’re going to love someone someday, and he’ll be the right one because you’ve got fire in you I don’t. He’ll see it, he will, I swear. You got the best of us, baby girl.”

She feels good in my arms, holding me with such care, and I think it’s how good moms do it. I don’t even realize I’m crying too, and we weep together, women who love deep and hard and strong. We never give up, we don’t. But I did.

“Just promise me you’ll live your life with an open heart, okay?” she says. “Don’t lose faith in love, please. Your journey will be different from mine.”