Jillian Dodd - Hate Me

“Really? How fun!”

I drop to the ground and quickly start stockpiling snowballs.

After about four, though, my hands get cold.

“I need to buy waterproof gloves.”

He slips my wet gloves off and brings my hands up to his face. “They’re cold.”

He takes my hands and puts them underneath his shirt—on his bare skin—to warm them up.

I stare into his eyes and watch the snow fall around him. Then I stand on my tiptoes to kiss . . .

SPLAT!!

A snowball hits me right in the cheek.

I turn toward the direction it came from to find Riley and Ariela grinning at us.

“They’re dead,” Aiden says.

He takes his snow gloves off, blows warm air into them, and then puts them on me. “Go get ’em!”

I grab my pile of snowballs, hide behind a tree, and launch them at Riley and Ariela, who have taken off running.

I’m bending down to make another snowball when Dallas shoves a bunch of snow down the back of my shirt.

I scream and go running behind Aiden for protection.

The snowball fight continues until the sun comes up.

Fragmented moments.

History

I’m sitting in class watching a movie.

And somehow it’s triggered . . . something.

Caused it to gnaw at the corners of my brain.

It’s a thought.

Or a memory.

Trying to get through.

I close my eyes for a second, shutting out my surroundings, and I'm quickly back at the Undertow.

Vincent's strong arms are around me. He’s wearing a charming smile.

I relive a series of fragmented moments.

The beach.

The ashes and his loss.

Our dinner.

The brush of a hand across my knee.

Words filled with innuendo.

Kisses that lingered on my cheeks.

Standing at the railing of a deck.

Good advice.

A twirl. A hug.

A toast from across the pool.

An offer to go to his room.

Cartwheels in the sand.

His buff chest.

Blowing a kiss.

Then Garrett. Asking me why I never I went with Vincent when he offered.

Was I honest when I answered that question?

I’m not even sure.

Besides, I have to look at it from his perspective.

He idolized Mom, but was always sweet.

Never once was there even a hint of animosity.

He sees the photo of me.

The original girl of his dreams.

Me.

He sets out to meet me in person, finding me on the beach.

I remember when he looked into my eyes like he knew me.

Because, to him, I was familiar.

The first photo he took was of Cush and me.

The question is, why?

Did he really already own the film rights?

And, if so, when did he buy them?

Before or after he saw the picture?

Riley knocks my elbow, causing my head to drop and almost hit the desk.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“I wasn't sleeping. I was thinking.”

“Sure you were. Probably daydreaming about Aiden on the rug.”

I close my eyes again.

Was it all just a mistake?

But then I remember the van.

Him calling Mom a whore.

The drugs.

The ropes.

The bell rings to end class, and I’m thinking about ropes as I gather up my books.

Gives a whole new meaning to the term tied up in contract negotiations, I think with a laugh.

As I walk out of class, Aiden’s green eyes lock with mine, causing me to forget all about Vincent.

You’re so naughty!

Lunch

I check my phone as I’m walking into the café. I’m anxiously waiting to hear something from Grandpa. I don’t want to bug him, but I need to know. So, I send him an email.

-I don’t want to bug you, but how’s the takeover stuff going?

I scroll through all the emails I get from the places I shop, and my eye pauses on one from Tommy.

-I ordered the ring you liked best. The seven stones make it perfect. Now I need the perfect proposal. I’ve got a million ideas. Actually been researching proposal ideas on the internet. I’d like to do something low key, but special. I thought about taking her to the beach, letting her find seashells, and writing it in the sand, but I was worried the public would start taking photos. So I really think it needs to happen at the house in France when I’m there for Christmas. Any suggestions?

“Hey, Boots,” Aiden says, wrapping his arm around me.

“Have you checked your phone today?” I ask him.

“You been sexting me?”

“Wipe that smile off your face. It’s not like that.”

“Darn.” He laughs.

“I left you a voicemail,” I say seriously. “I need you to listen to it tonight on the bus.”

His eyes widen. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“We’re not going out, remember?”

“Are you worried about Chelsea being at the game?”

“No.”

He looks at his phone. “It’s an eleven minute message.”

“I had a lot to say.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me in person?”

“Because,” I say, not able to keep my smile at bay.

He tilts his head and narrows his eyes at me. “What are you up to?”

“I stayed up last night and recorded the oral exam for you. I had to do it on my phone like twenty times to get it all perfect. Then I played my recording on your voicemail. You should probably listen and make sure you can hear it okay.”

“You did that for me? You were so tired.”

“I don’t want you to fail.”

“Still trying to get me to France with you?”

“Yeah,” I say, hoping I’m not lying.

“Boots,” he says, his tone of voice causing me to stop walking and turn toward him.

“What?”

He places both his hands on my face, looks deep into my eyes, and gives me a thorough thank you kiss.

The kind of kiss that makes my legs feel like they’re made out of rubber and makes me envision a future with him.

“Thank you,” he says dreamily. “Dallas told me in math that he’s asking Kassidy to Winter Formal at lunch today.”

“Did he tell you how he’s going to do it?” I shake my head. “Riley is going to kill him.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

When we get to our lunch table, Kassidy and Dallas are already sitting at the table with Whitney, Peyton, and everyone else. I notice he’s got a big white trash bag with a red ribbon under his feet.

When lunch is almost over, he pulls the trash bag out from under the table and says to Kassidy, “I lied. This isn’t a project. It’s for you.”

“Really?” she asks, confusion on her face.

“Open it.”

“Yeah, open it, Kassidy,” I say loudly.

She stands up. That, combined with my loud voice, has gotten the attention of a lot of the students—definitely everyone at our table. She pulls the plastic off and finds the rolled up rug, but she looks unsure of what it is.

Dallas says, “Let me do the honors.” He puts the rug under his arm, holding it against his body, and tells her to untie the ribbon.

Once she does, he holds it up in front of him, revealing the front of a green fluffy rug with hearts pinned to it spelling out FORMAL?

Kassidy does a little cheerleader-type bounce, gives Dallas a big smile, and jumps into his arms. I hear her whisper, “You’re so naughty. I love it.”

Everyone watching does a little clap then goes back to eating their lunch.

Well, expect for Riley.

He gets out of his seat and taps Dallas on the shoulder. “Is that my rug?”

Dallas laughs and goes, “Uh, maybe.”

“You’re dead,” he says, but Dallas moves Kassidy in front of him. She’s laughing too.

“You’re a chicken shit,” Riley says to Dallas. “Just remember, I know where you sleep.”