Page 15 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
How am I supposed to abide by our agreement when she’s touching me in all the right places? When she’s gripping my leg and outturning it for a better stretch? When her breasts are hanging mere inches from my face? When I’m so enraptured by her scent that I accidentally get turned on in the middle of a session? I’m strong, but no man isthatstrong.
And aside from her witty remarks and fast quips—which I’m already dying to hear again, even though they’re usually aimed at me—her body is fucking perfect. When she was threatening to run over my foot with her car, the only thing I could think about was turning her around and bending her over the side, raveling my fist through her hair, smacking her half-exposed ass in those cheeky bottoms, then taking my cock out and teasing her dripping slit.
I’ve never experienced hunger like that before—so primal, so painful. I think being that close to her actually made my brain malfunction and overheat. I couldn’t think; I could barely speak. She occupied every cell, nerve ending, muscle, and stream of consciousness in my weak little body. The only reason I didn’t eat with her was because all those…feelings…were using my stomach as a bouncy house.
That was a meal between two strangers. I’m losing my shit over a meal between two strangers in public. I can’t imagine myself keeping my cool when we’re stuck together, in a closed room, for a full hour, using our bodies as instruments or whatever the hell you do when you dance.
This is it. This is how I die. Not some freak accident where I’m driving behind a logging truck and one of the logs goes straight through my head. Not from old age or a murderer orsome flesh-eating bacteria that I picked up from an impromptu vacation to Monaco. No, I die from Cali Whatsherlastname.
HERE LIES GAGE ARLINGTON: BELOVED TEAMMATE, TALENTED HOCKEY PLAYER, SELFLESS SON
SIMPED TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN AND WENT UP IN FLAMES LIKE ICARUS
A snapping sound halts my spiral of self-doom, and the guys are still looking at me when I come to, except their brow raises of judgment are replaced with brow raises of confusion.
“Hello? Where did you just go, dude? You disassociated for like a full minute,” Hayes says.
I didn’t realize it had been that obvious. “I…uh…”
Kit’s raven-black eyes narrow, and the thin line of his mouth slowly transforms into a grin. “Wait a second, I know that look. Dazed, slightly sweaty, unable to speak. He was thinking about a girl,” he announces to the whole room.
I’m going to kill him. And then kill myself.
“How do you know?” Fulton questions, his own forehead pursed in deep thought.
“The same look I had when I saw Faye’s boobs for the first time,” Kit explains.
Hayes immediately pauses his popcorn chewing, looks up from the bowl, then creepily turns his head eighty degrees to the side to stare at Kit. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Kit coughs into his fist. “I meant when I saw her b-beautiful face for the first time.”
“Uh-huh.”
Faye is Hayes’ younger sister and is currently pregnant with Kit’s child. Which was not planned. Happened when Kit visited her during UPenn’s welcome back rager. When Hayes heard thenews, he almost fainted. Hayes is a protective guy—to put it lightly. So they pretty much had to sneak around for a full summer behind his back, butIknew about them. Yeah, I have stellar detective skills.
And apparently Kit’s getting back at me for all the shit I put him through, because now I’m the one whose ass is burning in the hot seat.
Fulton perks up, hope twinkling in his eyes. “Did you meet someone in class? Is she cute? Is she nice?”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I lie, praying that downplaying my crush for this girl will prevent all my ooey-gooey feelings from pouring out.
“That usually means it’s a big deal,” Bristol intervenes, the periodic click of his controller’s buttons underlying the amalgam of voices. There’s an animated zombie shuffling over to his character with oozing pustules and flaps of bloodied skin, and then Bristol does some karate high kick to decapitate it.
“It’s not,” I retort, limping over to lean against the wall since I’m guessing this interrogation will exceed the cutoff of my leg standing capabilities.
Cali’s more than just “cute.” Her beauty can’t be conceptualized; it can’t be reduced to a single word, and definitely not when it’s a word that impassionate. So breathtakingly beautiful and gorgeously stunning that it causes angels to weep? I’ll accept.
And nice? Yeah, no, Cali’s the meanest person I’ve ever met. She’d probably get along great with my asshole friends, though.
“Come on, Gage. Tell us about her,” Casen goads, swiping a kernel from Hayes’ popcorn bowl.
I fold my arms over my chest, trying to approach this situation with the utmost caution, scrambling to maintain a level of calm thatwon’thave my friends asking more questions or sticking their noses in places they shouldn’t. I’m usually anoversharer—which I’ve been told to stop doing when I’m pissing in public restrooms—but this time, maybe I just hold back a little. I’m getting way ahead of myself. I only learned Cali’s name tonight, and already, she’s infected every corner of my mind.
I don’t know why, but my heart tremors and my mouth dries. “Uh, it was actually the girl from the rink,” I admit, causing every head in the vicinity to turn toward me.
Bristol drops his controller, and Hayes sets his popcorn down.
“Wait, the girl you got into a fight with at practice?” Kit asks, mouth half-agape in shock.
