Page 66 of I Love to Hate You
“True, but yours was your mother, plus you dad is adding to it. There’s nothing like that happening with me.”
“Oh, well, if you’d like to feel worse, you should know that my dad also said he doesn’t like you and that you’re not allowed over here ever again. We even now?”
“Wow,” Kendrick says behind a laugh. “I can appreciate your morbid humor, but you’re definitely still going through more than me. However, I don’t give a fuck if your dad likes me or not, because I don’t like him. It’d be different if you were begging me to get along with him, but you’re not, so fuck him, too. You and I work together and I live alone, so I don’t need to ever step foot in his house again. Plus, you won’t live there forever. You and I are going to lock down full-time jobs at BLM, and you’re going to make enough money to move out on your own in no time. So, again, fuck him.”
“God, I hope you’re right,” I reply.
“I am. You’ll see.”
“Well, I love your confidence and will do my best to steal some of it for myself. Speaking of full-time jobs at Bell Liberty, what are we going to do once we go back to work?”
“What do you mean? What are we going to do about what?” Kendrick asks.
“About us,” I respond. “Up to this point, we’ve been pretty quiet about our relationship. Do you want to continue doing that?”
“No,” he says in a hurry. “I want everyone to know that you’re mine, but I understand if you have hang-ups about that when it comes to work. As a woman, you’re in a different position than I am.”
“Well, I’m glad you recognize that. Women always get shit when they date or hookup with someone in the workplace, while men get patted on the back for it. It’s annoying.”
“I understand that, which is why I’ll go along with it if that’s what you want to do. On the other hand, you don’t have to worry about anyone saying anything about you.”
“Oh, yeah?” I say, chuckling with raised eyebrows. “How do you figure that?”
“Because the first time it happens, I’ll make sure it’s the last time.”
I smile from ear to ear. “Oh. The finger murderer is on the loose.”
We laugh together, and without even realizing it, the darkness my father brought down with him has been destroyed by our light.
“First, I was a superhero, now I’m the finger murderer,” Kendrick quips, still chuckling. “Fine, I’ll take whatever nickname as long as people know I’m protecting what’s mine. I just don’t want you to worry about anything being said at work. I’ll make sure we’re good, and once I do, no one will say shit ever again. I got you, Maya. I got us.”
I smile so big it hurts.
“Damn, I’m glad I met you,” I say, shaking my head at how incredible this man is. How the hell did I not see it before? “Okay, if that’s how you feel about it, then fuck it. I’m all in if you are.”
“Maya, I’m one hundred percent all in,” he says.
“Okay. So, we’re really doing this?” I ask, but I know the answer and it feels so good.
Kendrick chuckles over the phone. “Yes, Baby Girl,” he says, full of confidence. “We’re doing this.”
Forty-One
~ MAYA~
The level of artistry I put into my makeup this morning should be put on display in a magazine. The world will never know the magic that went into hiding the bruises and the cut above my eye. I somehow managed to get everything mostly covered, with only minimal discoloration around my nose. When it’s all said and done, I’m ready to face the world.
I manage to leave the house without any crap from my father, who’s asleep in his room when I head to work, but I still have anxiety in my blood when I drive away from the house and start my trip to Bell Liberty. What happens when I see Kendrick? Will he kiss me in front of everyone? Is that even the type of relationship we have? Before everything that went down at his house after the club incident, we weren’t really together, so our greetings were minimal, and we barely spoke in front of other people. But if he’s my boyfriend now, how are things going to change now that we’re fully in a relationship? All of these questions hit me in the chest before I even get to the concern of how the other interns will respond to seeing us.
The last time all six of us were together, we were in the VIP section of Club Asylum, exchanging phone numbers so we could make a group chat that I haven’t even commented in. Kendrick had gone to the bathroom, and the other four kept their eyes fixated on their screens as I told them I was going outside to get my cell. Since then, the group chat has had a few texts asking about Kendrick and I, but there has been no mention of what actually happened to me. I can only assume that the men who attacked me didn’t want to get the police involved and fled the parking lot, so no one from the internship knows what happened. While my makeup job is phenomenal, someone is bound to notice something and start asking questions. How the hell am I supposed to respond to that?
I try not to let the whole thing wreak too much havoc on my mind as I complete the commute and reach the BLM parking lot. As is my luck, the second I pull into a parking space, Samantha swerves into the lot in a raggedy Honda Civic and picks the spot directly next to me. I see her eyeing me before I even open my door, and I feel the need to check my makeup again before I get out. I look in the rearview mirror and am pleased to see that nothing has changed. The discoloration is still barely visible, although the sunlight might have something to say about that, but there’s nothing left for me to do except pop the door open and step out.
Samantha is out of her car and walking toward my door before I can get my hand on the handle, and the second I pull it, her voice slithers through the opening.
“Girl, what happened to you the other night?” she asks immediately. “One minute you were there, the next you were gone, and Kendrick was running out after you. Then, both of you disappeared. We texted the group chat for you guys a few times but didn’t hear anything back. You okay?”
I step out of the car and stand up straight in front of her, wondering if she’s going to notice any blemishes on my face. When she doesn’t say anything about it, I breathe a sigh of relief.
