P s i hate you, p.14
P.S. I Hate You, page 14
“You alright?” I ask.
“Yup.” He snaps the condom off and chucks it in the trash can before returning beside me.
I curl into his side. Resting my head on his shoulder, I trace the hard lines of his body, over the hills and valleys of his abdominal muscles and down the tight V at his hips, but he remains turned away. Another chill in the atmosphere, a shift in the matrix.
“I guess this means I should break up with Troy.”
“Why?”
A lump forms in my throat. “Why do you think?”
He lifts my hand off his body and sets it on the mattress between us. “We fucked, princess. We ain’t goin’ steady.”
I push up to my elbow, my pulse beginning to race. “I thought …”
When he turns to face me, his expression is as hard as stone. “You thought what? That I wanted to be your boyfriend? You wanted to go slummin’ with the poor folk, and I was more than happy to oblige, but let’s not make this out to be somethin’ it ain’t.”
Emotion claws up my face, making my skin crawl. “You asshole.” I snatch my shirt out from under me and throw it over my head. “You cold, calculating piece of shit.”
He snickers. “What was it that Golightly bitch said? Never love a wild thing, baby.”
You mustn’t give your heart to a wild thing. The more you do, the stronger they get.
I jump to my feet and throw on my shorts. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
“That’s fine. I’m about done with you anyway. If I wanted a bitch at my heels, I’d’ve bought a fuckin’ dog.”
The urge to kill rockets through me. Blood rushes my ears, the sweltering heat making it hard to breathe. I went against my better judgment. I acted on my impulses, and he made a fool out of me.
On the way to the door, I catch sight of a baseball bat leaned up against the edge of his dresser. In one fell swoop, I snatch it in my hands and swing. The end catches the lamp on his bedside table. It crashes to the floor but doesn’t soothe my need for vengeance.
“Hoooe!” he yells, jumping from his bed seconds before my bat comes down in his place. “You’re a crazy bitch, you know that?”
“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” I advance, whipping the bat in his direction as he ducks away. A jar of change on his dresser shatters, but all I see is red as I block him in the corner. A life sentence in prison would be better than staying in this hot box and having to look at his smug face every day, knowing he got the best of me.
I take another swing. He catches the end and pulls me in. Twisted in his grasp, I drop my weapon. My arms and legs flail. “Calm the fuck down!”
He wraps himself around me, his arm locking behind my head. Unable to move, the humiliation washes away my rage. Tears plummet down my face as my body collapses in on itself.
“You done?” When I nod, he releases his grasp. “Good.”
With my head bowed, I wade through the rubble left by my tantrum. It’s easy to blame him, but the decision was mine. He gave me every opportunity to go. I didn’t take it. In the end, I did exactly what I swore I wouldn’t do. I let him break me.
Chapter fourteen
Troy: I know I screwed up, but can we please talk about this?
I swipe the text away and slide my phone into my back pocket. Troy must have tried to contact me at least thirty times over the past couple of days. Shutting him out is cowardly and immature, but I just can’t face him. Not while I still feel the phantom touch of Jace’s hands on my body. No matter how hard I try, I can’t wash it away. It’s embedded into my skin like a bruise that won’t heal. A physical pain deep in my heart, a constant reminder of how far I’ve fallen.
The upside to all of this is Cindy’s full recovery. She’s back to her old self, and I’m relieved to return to a normal life. Believe it or not, I’m almost happy to return to school tomorrow. Anything’s better than this. Trying to avoid Jace in a house this size is an exercise in futility. We used to take turns doing chores, but now we take turns leaving the house. I honestly don’t know what’s worse—his constant aggression or being ignored completely.
I gave him the only things I had left. My pride, my innocence, and my faith in humanity.
“Jeet yet?” Cindy stops in my doorway, her shoulder pressed to the once-white trim.
I smile at her Southern turn of phrase. “I’m not hungry.”
She steps into my room and sits on the corner of the bed. “Somethin’ going on with you and Jace?”
My heart skips a beat. Cindy can sniff out a problem like a bloodhound. “Why would you ask that?”
“I dunno. Y’all just seem quieter than usual.”
“I think we’re just tired from all this,” I say with a shrug.
She purses her lips with a slow nod. I can tell she’s not buying any of it, but she allows me to have my lie for now. “’Kay. Well, I’m here if you wanna talk about somethin’.”
“I appreciate that.”
I wonder what my mom would think of my situation? After all, she’s no stranger to getting caught up in lust. She had me with a man she barely knew. A one-night stand that resulted in a lifetime of motherhood. I don’t think she’d judge me for my hasty actions. At least, I’m going to keep telling myself that.
My hand naturally goes for my empty ring finger. After all this time, I still can’t admit it’s gone. That ring was my strength. It was my saving grace. Just knowing I had it made me feel powerful. Darla probably pawned it to buy another bottle of imposter perfume.
A sigh leaves my lips when I hear the rumble of the truck outside my window. I watch him from the crack in the curtains. He pushes damp locks of dark hair off his forehead, then uses the bottom hem of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. My stomach ripples. The taste of him still burns on my tongue. I hate myself for wanting him after what he’s done.
The minute he disappears from sight, I gather my things and prepare to leave. Once again, I find myself alone. Even Cindy can’t save me this time. I wasn’t burdened by events I couldn't control. This, I did to myself.
I step lightly, hoping not to be seen as I wheel my bike into the driveway. With the wind in my hair, I put it all past me. I slow my pace as I approach Boots n’ Bangles, then enter to the sound of the bell. Jolene looks up with a delighted grin. “Oh my stars, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.”
“Hey, Jo,” I say with a wide smile. “You got my check?”
“Sure do, sugar.” She reaches under the counter and extracts a long white envelope. “You comin’ back to work?”
“Yes. I have those sketches you asked for, too.”
“Ooh, girl, you’ve been busy! Give it here. Let’s see ’em.”
I slip my pack off my shoulder to find my notebook. She flips to the first page. A mockup of the window is roughly sketched out with two wire bodice displays sitting at different heights on a long table. “See. If we ditch the mannequins and put up something like this, it could give the store a hip, boutique vibe. I bet the girls would love it.” I turn to the next page. “Moving the purses up front instead of in the back might be a good way to move more product. Like, imagine coming inside to get a closer look at that adorable little bag in the window. Then you need an outfit to go with it, right?”
Jolene’s lips press in a thin line. “You’re full of good ideas, ain’t ya?”
My lungs expand. For the first time in days, I feel a little bit like myself again. But my moment of pride comes to a screeching halt when she continues to flip through.
“What’s all this?”
“Oh, um. Those are just some ideas I had.”
I try to take the book from under her watchful eye, but she won’t allow it. She scans the sketches with clipped brows. “You think you can make these?”
My mouth opens and closes like a fish. I went to a sewing clinic my freshman year of high school. We learned the basics of pattern making, different stitches, and made our own piece of clothing at the end. I grew up hand-making outfits for my Barbie dolls, but I’ve never made anything of actual sale quality. “Maybe?”
She looks up through her mascara-caked lashes. “If you can bring me some inventory, I’ll give you a small corner of the store to try out your designs. We’ll split the profits sixty-forty.”
My pulse begins to race. “S-Sixty-forty?”
She cocks her head. “Sixty for you, forty for me.”
My lips part, but it takes a whole second for me to find my voice. “Yeah. I mean … sure … I can do that.” I bounce from foot to foot, stammering like a fool while my inner diva screams be cool, bitch!
It’s a tacky store with wall-to-wall polyester, but even Ralph Lauren had to start somewhere—and he only sold ties, for Christ’s sake!
I leave Boots n’ Bangles floating on air. Ten years from now, I’m going to be at Paris fashion week telling reporters how I got my big break at that little store in east Texas that took a chance on me. Maybe I’ll even bring Jolene with me! I hop on my bike and howl into the afternoon sun. This is it. This is everything I’ve wanted for as far back as I can remember.
My own fashion line.
I can’t wait to tell … Jace.
My happiness deflates like a balloon. The biggest news of my life, and I have no one to share it with. I thought Jace believed in me. He encouraged me to move forward with my ideas and made me feel as if I could actually achieve something. Now I know it was all a lie. He only wanted to humiliate me in the worst way possible.
“Ellie, is that you?” Cindy calls from the kitchen, her voice battling the rush of the faucet.
“Yes.”
“Somethin’ came for you. I put it in your room.”
“Thank you.”
I pull the band off my wrist and sweep my hair into a messy ponytail, then close the door behind me. A literal mound of roses sits on my dresser, their long green stems reaching all the way to the end. I pluck the card from the pile and hold it up. Two words are scrawled in dark blue ink: I’m sorry.
Maybe I’m not as alone as I thought. Troy messed up, but so did I. I may never forgive myself, but I can find it in my heart to forgive him.
When I lift the bouquet to bring it to my nose, the light tinkling of something hitting the floor steals my attention. I drop my gaze, my eyes widening, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard I can barely breathe.
There at my feet is my mother’s ring.
My free hand springs to my mouth as the tears plummet from my eyes. I can’t believe he did this. How? Where? With trembling fingers, I pick up the lost piece of jewelry and slide it back where it belongs. The diamond chips sparkle in a way I’ve never seen before. This ring showing up now is a sign. Things are gonna happen for me. Just when I’m feeling more alone than I’ve ever felt, she shows me that she’s beside me.
Slipping my phone from my pocket, I scroll to Troy’s last message.
Me: You made my day. Thank you. <3
I fire it off and wait. The dots bounce as he forms a reply. A second later, it comes in.
Troy: I never want to fight with you again.
I sweep a rogue tear off my cheek with the back of my finger.
Me: Deal.
Troy: So we’re okay then?
Staring down at the message, I pace a tight circle on the matted area rug before typing a reply. Are we okay? My brain says yes, but my heart stops me from pulling the trigger. I’m not in love with Troy, but maybe I just haven’t allowed that love to grow. Caught up in my own drama, I built a wall to keep myself from getting hurt. Then, like a fool, I let the wrong person cross the border.
Me: Friends?
My eyelids flutter closed as I drop my thumb to the arrow. Troy isn’t perfect, but when all was said and done, he’s the one groveling at my feet. He accepts his faults and admits when he’s wrong. Unlike some arrogant assholes I know …
Troy: Friends, huh?
Me: With potential.
Troy: Friends with potential. I suppose I can live with that.
Relief waves through me. Maybe someday we can become more, but friendship is all I’m able to give right now. It’s not fair to hold Troy back if I can’t return his feelings. Best to keep it simple and see what happens.
Troy: My parents are having some lame dinner party this weekend. I want you to come.
Goose bumps dapple my arms. This feels like the opposite of simple, but I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt in the interest of our newfound friendship.
Me: Sure
We swap a few more messages to solidify our plans before saying goodbye. Already feeling better, I journey into the kitchen to find a vase. Cindy’s at the stove cooking something that smells delicious.
She chucks a glance over her shoulder. “That’s some bouquet. Musta cost ole Troy a bundle.”
“He could afford it.”
Jace’s voice slithers up my spine like nails on the chalkboard. I didn’t even see him standing in the hall. He’s dressed in black from head to toe, his hair a dampened mess on his head as if he toweled it dry and left it that way. His face is the only thing visible, save for the little gold hoop looped in his nostril.
The way he makes my body react should be criminal. All the liquid in my body suddenly veers south. I casually get a drink of water to quench my dry throat. “Jealous much?” I lean against the counter, crossing my thighs to stifle the burn I feel down below. I hate him with the fire of a thousand dying suns … Evidently, my lady bits have a different emotion in mind.
“Like I’d be jealous of that rat fuck.”
“Language!” Cindy waves her spatula in his direction. “You’re not too old to go over my knee.” Jace just rolls his eyes and tugs the handle on the refrigerator door. “Get outta that fridge. I got dinner cookin’.”
Jace steals a cola and lets the door close on its own. “I ain’t stayin’.”
A pinprick of pain makes a tiny hole in my heart. After so many beautiful nights of bearing his soul, he can’t even sit at the same table as me and share a meal. How have we fallen so far?
Cindy looks at me next. “Don’t tell me you’re leavin’, too.”
“Mm-mm,” I warble around my raised glass in the negative.
She points at my hand. “I see you found your ring.”
Water dribbles down my chin. I wipe it away with the palm of my hand as I swallow the massive sip in my mouth. “Troy got it back for me,” I say, holding it up to watch how the diamonds glitter.
“Un-fuckin’-believable,” Jace snarls through gritted teeth but doesn’t stick around long enough to earn Cindy’s weaponized spatula. He shoves through the screen and slams it closed. Outside, the truck revs with an evil growl as he peels out of the yard.
Cindy flips the meat, unfazed. “That Troy is a good boy. You hold on to him.”
I smile, but it isn’t genuine. My gaze wanders to the sign in Cindy’s kitchen: don’t shit where you eat. I found it funny at first, but now I realize it’s good advice. Sleeping with Jace was a big ole shit sandwich, and I swallowed down every bite, then licked my fingers when I was done. I can’t even be mad at him. It would be like being mad at a snake for having been bitten. I knew who he was. I have no one but myself to blame for the rotten taste in my mouth.
Chapter fifteen
I’m in the twilight zone. Either that or the alien abduction that gave Jace the temporary mind-meld also infected Hell’s Bend High’s student body. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the radio silence as I walk through the halls.
No taunts.
No shoves.
Nobody pelting me with food in the cafeteria.
It’s eerie how quickly I went from social pariah to unnoticed ghost. Perhaps they’ve gotten their fill of torturing me and will soon move on to someone else. Or maybe Troy had something to do with this sudden cool. Either way, I’m grateful for the change.
After school, I get on my bike, still reeling from the non-events of the day. The miles stretch before me. I hold the handlebars in a white-knuckle grip, leaning in to jump the curb, but my tire comes down on a sharp rock. The tube snaps. I lose control and end up lying in a bush.
“Great,” I grumble, dusting off. Thankfully, no one saw my less-than-graceful fall, but my bike is screwed. The deflated rubber hangs off the wheel, my only means of transportation rendered useless. I stand for a moment weighing my options—I could call Jace to pick me up or I could walk.
Sigh.
I start pushing the damaged bike along the sidewalk. One foot in front of the other with the hot sun beating down on my face. The broken tire flops against the concrete with every step. Getting home like this will be a nightmare. I’m just about ready to throw in the towel on my pride, but in the darkest hour of my day, a mirage of hope comes into view: the town’s only gas station.
Dusty’s Accurate Auto sits on the opposite side of the street like a beacon of hope. I wheel my bike in front of the open bay doors and peer inside. “Hello?” I call.
The attendant peeks from behind the lifted hood of a Chevy. “Can I help you?”
I move into the shadow of the garage, hoping to escape the bright sun outside. “I got a flat on my bike. Can you fix it?”
“Lemme take a look.” He stretches his lean body and slams the hood before rounding the car but stops short as I hover in the doorway. The blood drains from his face. He stares at me, blinking his eyes as if in shock. “What’d you say your name was?”
“I didn’t. It’s Ellie.”
“Ellie.” My name rolls off his tongue in a mumbled whisper. “My God, you look just like her.”
I cast a quick gaze behind me before looking back at him. “Who?”
“You’re Sarah Cartwright’s daughter, aren’t you?”
Goose bumps prickle my arms. Did this guy get caught up in my mother’s web of lies? I’m not in the mood to discuss my family history with a random stranger. I just want to fix my bike and go. “How is that relevant to my tire?”
