Page 18 of Hate the One You're With
Maybe I should leave, but something keeps me rooted in place. There’s a pull he has on me, something I’ve never felt before, and it’s compelling enough that I want to stay and figure him out, learn more about him. I don’t even know if this is flirting, but I muster my best voice and ask, “You seem to know me, and you are?”
Chapter Ten
Caleb
Nineteen-year-old Caleb. . .
Dad’s biggest headache is cuter than I thought. Really fucking adorable, if I say so myself. Her auburn hair is piled into one of those messy buns that would drive my mother crazy. “Can they grab a brush and control that frizz?” she’d always say. But Emmersyn? She lookseffortlessly beautiful with it, those stray little hairs falling against her neck, which is more than just tempting—it’s downright captivating.
The way her hair catches the light, the soft waves framing her face, it’s like every detail of her was crafted to draw me in. And don’t get me started on that smile of hers; it’s the kind that sneaks up on you, pulls you in, and before you know it, you’re a goner.
According to Clarissa, she’s the best person in the world. Dad, on the other hand, would like her added to the FBI’s Most Wanted list. Mom . . . she swears this girl needs someone to spank her and teach her manners and discipline.
I tighten my jaw, trying not to laugh, because from everything they’ve said, this girl doesn’t fit the bill. She’s . . . sweet. Not only sweet, but also beautiful, and maybe I should stop ogling her because she’s probably underage and way off-limits.
“You seem to know me, and you are?” she asks, attempting to sound confident, but there’s a slight waver in her voice that gives her away. She tilts her head, trying to be flirty, but instead, it’s more of an awkward bob that makes her look adorably unsure. Her cheeks flush just a little, and she quickly bites her lip, as if realizing she’s not quite nailing the suave approach she was going for. It’s cute—so damn cute that I have to fight the urge to laugh, not at her, but at how endearing she is without even trying.
“Caleb Cunningham,” I introduce myself, letting the name hang in the air. If she’s a good friend of Clarissa’s, she has to know who I am, right?
Her mouth opens, like she’s trying to say something, but no words come out.
“So you know me,” I prompt, raising an eyebrow.
“Heard of you,” she confirms, finding her voice. “More lately, but yes. Navy . . .SEAL? Sorry your sister doesn’t explain well and I haven’t done any research. Nineteen, a pain in the ass, and most likely to catch Clarissa in a lie—but you’re no longer at home, so she can do whatever the fuck she wants—her words, of course.”
“Of course, her words,” I say, rolling my eyes, knowing that my sister is probably getting into a lot of trouble, and this girl right here is the one enabling her. “I’m almost twenty, by the way.”
She looks at me a little unamused by my last comment. So I move on to the next subject. “You’re a little far from New York, aren’t you?” I ask. Maybe she lives here, but I wouldn’t put it past my sister to make up something like that.
Emmersyn grins, putting a finger to her lips. “Shh, for all my grandmother knows, I’m at school, probably taking a math test.”
I shake my head, tsking. “You are indeed a troublemaker.”
“Debatable, but I’m here to check on your sister,” she says with a playful wink. “There’s somewhere in the bestie code that says bailing your friend out gives you a pass. So, where is she?”
“She’s at school,” I retort, pretending to be exasperated. “Like a normal person.”
“I’m anything but normal,” she quips, her tone flirty, and this time, she nails it—no awkward movements, just a confident smile that hooks my attention effortlessly. Not that she needed to try hard for that. “You think she’ll be back around three?”
There’s a playful glint in her eyes that makes it clear she’sfully in control of this moment, and it’s impossible not to be drawn in by it.
I shake my head. “She’s not coming. Mom and I are the only ones staying with Dad. Mostly me since someone has to keep an eye on my siblings. Once he’s ready to go home, they can see him.”
She frowns, her expression shifting. “Wouldn’t they want to be here? I mean, when my mom was in an accident, I never left her side. Same with Grandpa when he . . . They needed me there, you know, to reassure them they weren’t alone.”
“Mom’s always said that hospitals aren’t for children,” I say casually, but I’m noticing the change in her face. The lightness she had just a moment ago dims, like a switch has been flipped. She looks almost the same as when I found her—sad and a little lost.
“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think you’ll be able to see Clarissa,” I tell her, trying to be as gentle as possible. It might be better for her to head back home—and to school—before she gets into more trouble. “Maybe no one will catch that you missed school.”
She shrugs. “No one will care. Grandma’s on a grief vacation, as she likes to call it. She’ll probably figure out that I skipped school by the end of the semester.”
I want to ask what she means by grief vacation, but something tells me it might pull her back into that sad place again. I’d hate to be the one making her feel like that. We make our way to the cafeteria, where we order sandwiches, drinks, and what she calls the basics—lots of candy. As we reach the register, Emmersyn pulls out a card and quickly scans it before I can even reach for my wallet.
“Why are you paying?” I ask, caught off guard.
“It’s easier to use a card,” she says casually, her tone light but with an air of finality, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Next time, I’ll pay,” I say, my voice firm, leaving no room for argument.
