Page 54 of Love to Hate You

She angrily flicked off the light, which only made it more intimate. The moonlight shining through the slit in the blinds illuminated her form—every curve and athletic inch. The way the light caught her eyes, it made them look like tumblers of whisky.

He watched as she strode across the room. She paused at the bed as if deciding what to do, and his heart stopped dead in his chest. He was thrown by how much he wanted her in his arms again. Because she didn’t know it, but he’d held her all night and it had been amazing. Her body had nuzzled against his, relaxed and missing the usual tension she carried from all the stress she took on for herself and her family. He no longer liked being a part of that stress.

“I’ll sleep up top,” he offered, standing.

“No, you’re right. You’re too big for the top bunk.”

“I don’t mind sharing. Unless you’re afraid you’ll move from spooning to forking?”

He expected her to snort and blow it off; instead she looked thoughtful for a moment and said, “Yes. And can we leave it at that?”

His voice was rough when he said, “Yes.” Although the last thing he wanted was to stop talking now that she was opening up. She’d done her best to avoid him today by going on walks with Buttercup and reading down at the beach, but he’d been hyper-aware of her since their game of footsie.

He watched her shadow gracefully walk up the ladder and heard the mattress sink as she lay down. Breathed deeply as the scent of her shampoo drifted between the mattresses, and strained his ears, waiting for her to speak. But she didn’t.

An intense silence blanketed the room, where all they could hear was each other’s breathing. The longer it went on the harder his breathing became, until his lungs just gave up. Right when he was about to crack, to ask her about her day, she whispered, “Name one.”

He rolled onto his back and stared at the piece of wood that separated them. “One what?”

“A meet-cute.”

“Well, when you had my guys’ cars ticketed and then I tried to have your car towed. That would be an enemies-to-lovers meet-cute. There was the coincidence of the dating app. And we can’t forget the time we both showed up to find the other on their vacation—that would be a serendipitous meet-cute. Then there’s the one bed.”

“There’s two beds, you’re just stubborn.”

“Fine. The sharing the bed—forced proximity.”

“We’re not sharing a bed,” she said, so quietly he nearly missed it.

“Love, you might be on a different mattress but you know damn well we’re sharing a bed.”

To his surprise she didn’t argue. “Name another one.”

“We’ve got the opposites-attract thing going, and now, this.”

Even though he wasn’t sure what this was, he was enjoying it. When they bantered her eyes lit up, and her smile was damn beautiful. It didn’t hurt that she was in nothing but a T-shirt, but his attraction to her in that moment went way behind the physical.

“You mean the hate-to-love trope?”

He chuckled. “Love, you don’t hate me. In fact, I think you might even like me.”

“You’re dreaming again.”

He closed his eyes and smiled. “Maybe I am.”

Her answer was silence. Which he gave her. He let her have the space she needed to digest what was happening between them. Another foundation in a romance novel—sharing secrets. He had a secret to share and didn’t want to miss the opportunity.

“I want to apologize.”

“For what?” she asked.

“I promised to make things easier on you and I’ve been pushing your buttons.”

“You like to push them.” The sound of her voice said she wasn’t as opposed to his pushing as she was letting on.

“Not when it hurts. When I’m uncomfortable I like to banter but I think you see it as me picking on you. But it’s the exact opposite, and I’d never want to hurt you.”

“I make you uncomfortable?”

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