P s i hate you, p.4
P.S. I Hate You, page 4
“I don’t think Jace likes me very much.”
Cindy rolls her eyes and pushes off the couch. “Jace’s bark is way worse than his bite, believe me. Inside that tough exterior is a little boy who misses his daddy.”
A tight knot forms in my belly. I guess I was so consumed with my own loss that I hadn’t considered his. Losing a parent sucks at any age. “May I ask what happened to him?”
“That’s a conversation for another day,” she says with a sigh. “Ima go get ready for my shift, then we’ll head out, okay?”
I nod. “My mom was lucky to have you as a friend.”
She offers a wide grin before walking away.
Alone with my thoughts, I go over the day’s events and plan ways to make tomorrow better.
Clothes: I will buy a few things to acclimate to my surroundings while also finding a way to slip in my own sense of fashion.
Friends: Chris was nice, as were Randy and Mae. I’ll try to have lunch with them again tomorrow.
Scandal: Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.
Jace: … That one is a tough nut to crack. He’s such a jerk, but I need to find a way for us to coexist, or else I will lose my ever-loving mind.
Then there’s Darla. Her name alone is an instant headache. I don’t know what I did to get on her shit list, but high school drama is fickle. Today, I was the talk on everybody’s tongue. By tomorrow, it could be something else. I only hope it shifts sooner rather than later. Parsons School of Design is waiting for me at the end of this race. My trust fund may be gone, but if I’ve learned anything from my mother’s example, it's determination. All I have to do is keep my eyes on the prize.
“You ready?”
Cindy’s voice pulls me from my mental checklist. I look up to find her dressed in jeans and a fitted tee tucked in at the waist, a long braid slithering over her shoulder like a snake.
By the time we’re side by side in her Chevy S10, I’m already feeling better about the situation. She stops in front of an old converted barn. Great Notch Inn glows in red neon letters, but the e and the o remain dark making it read Grat Ntch Inn.
“This is where you work?” My gaze treks past the row of motorcycles gleaming in the setting sun.
“Unfortunately,” she replies, but does so with a wry grin. “Damn near twenty years, if you can believe it.” She parks the truck off to the side and hops out. “Now, if you take a walk down that way …” She points her arm down the long, winding road. “You’ll find Boots n’ Bangles. That’s a popular store for the girls around here. When you’re done there …” She raises the other arm to point in the opposite direction. “The gym is just a block or so down this way. You can’t miss it. Stop in and ask for Jace. Tell him I said he’s gotta take you home, alright?”
“Thanks, Cindy. I really appreciate it.”
“Have fun. I know I will,” she replies with a wink, then trots up the stone steps until the giant barn doors pull her inside.
Boots n’ Bangles turns out to be a small glass-front store in the center of a long strip mall, anchored by a local grocery and a hardware store on either end. It’s like a hillbilly barbell, with everything you need in between.
I used to shop at places like Saks and Bloomingdales. Now I'm in a town where the hot place for fashion has an n’ in the title.
How is this my life?
I stare out into the wide-open space trying to feel my mom’s presence on the very streets she spent her life running down, but nothing’s there. I don’t know that version of her. The wild child who broke into country clubs just to go swimming. The woman I knew barely had any trace of an accent left unless she got mad or had too much to drink.
My credit card burns a hole in my pocket. With any luck, the banks haven’t turned them off yet, and the statement will just go to my mother, who won’t be paying the bills anytime soon. I’ll buy everything I need in one large purchase and hope it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
The gold bell alerts the clerk to my entry. She looks up from the register. “Welcome to Boots n’ Bangles!”
Her polite greeting startles me. In all the upscale boutiques I’ve shopped at, no one has ever welcomed me to their store. Most of the time, the workers just seem annoyed by your existence.
“Can I help you find something?”
“I need some cute jeans and some tee shirts. Do you sell shoes?”
She rounds the counter, flapping both hands in front of her. “Oh, honey, we’ve got everything you need. C’mon. I’ll show ya.”
I whirl around the store, piecing together items I never thought I’d put on my body—far too much denim, plain cotton tees, flannel shirts, etc—and a pair of Ariat snakeskin boots I just couldn’t resist. Now, standing at the register, I hold my breath as the clerk swipes my mother’s credit card. The word authenticating flashes across the screen. I bite my lip and wait …
Approved!
With my new purchases bagged and ready, I stumble into the oncoming night and head back toward The Great Notch Inn. Cindy said the gym is just a few blocks past in the opposite direction. I find the bar and continue until I come across a lonely brick building. A rabid dog appears to leap off the gigantic sign that hangs above the door, the words Mad Dog’s Mixed Martial Arts stamped above in menacing print.
I lift a questioning brow. In a city that looks like time forgot, this impeccable gym stands out like a sore thumb. The musty smell of sweat greets me inside. A series of punching bags hangs along the back wall, but the colossal ring takes up most of the space. Two men spar inside it while another kicks an armless mannequin with a grunt.
“What the hell are you doin’ here?”
I whip toward the sound of Jace’s growl, stumbling from the shock. My heart beats so fast, I can hear it thumping against my chest. A pair of jersey shorts sits low on his hips, the sweat dripping off his bare chest, but what shocks me most is the look of hatred that crosses his glare.
"God, you're impossible to get away from, aren't you? You’re like a fly. Everywhere I look, there's fucking Ellie!" he spits out with such venom that every atom in my body trembles.
“Your mom said you’d give me a ride home.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ellie, I'm not your goddamn chauffeur. I don't know what it was like where you come from, but I have a life and shit to do that doesn't involve carting your ass around." His heated gaze falls to the shopping bags hanging at my side. “Maybe instead of blowing all your money on clothes, you should buy yourself a bicycle or something.”
“Jace!” a deep baritone calls from across the room. Without so much as an excuse me, he shoulders past and stomps toward the voice. An older man with a shining bald head starts giving him orders. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but his body language is enough to tell me he’s the guy in charge.
Jace disappears through a door. At first, I worry that he’s sneaking out, but I'm taken aback when he returns with a mop. He begins sopping up a pool of spilled water near the wall, then wrings it out in a bucket. Slowly, he moves across the gym until the entire floor has been mopped clean, then he starts on the equipment next.
It hits me like a bolt of lightning. Jace isn’t a member of this gym. He works here. I’ve walked into his place of business and demanded a ride. No wonder he’s pissed.
I hide in the corner, silently watching as he meticulously wipes down every bench and mat, taking great care to make sure it’s perfect before going on to the next. When he’s done, he returns his supplies and steps toward the octagon, fitting a helmet onto his head. The bald man—who I now assume is the coach—opens the door and lets him inside.
The other guy in the ring hops like a pigeon while the coach wraps Jace’s hands. My mouth goes dry. I move in as if being pulled by an imaginary string. Jace swings his fist. His partner swerves, missing the attack, but Jace comes in from the bottom, sweeping the guy off his feet with a sudden kick.
He hits the floor hard with a grunt. Jace tramples like an angry bear. He hurls his body onto him, then rolls to his back, his legs wrapped around his torso and the crook of his elbow tight across his neck. When his partner smacks the mat, Jace lets go.
My heart lodges in my throat. He moves like a panther, strong and graceful, his corded muscles glistening in the overhead light. He pins his opponent a second time, then a third. By the time it’s over, I’m teetering on the edge of the mat, my body dangerously close to the ring itself.
Jace pulls off his helmet and spits out his mouth guard. “How’s that?”
“Nice work, Wilder,” the coach replies. “You’re gonna kill it on Friday.”
He shakes the sweat from his raven hair. “Thanks, Mike.” He bumps fists with his opponent before stepping out.
“That was intense,” I say.
He shrugs, wiping himself down with a towel. “Glad you liked it. Because you’re gonna be holdin’ up rounds on Friday when you lose our bet.”
It takes a full thirty seconds for my brain to come back down from the clouds. “Rounds?”
“Hope you have a bikini in that bag.” He chuckles, then hurls the towel into a nearby hamper. “I’ll meet you at the truck.” That’s all the explanation I get before he vanishes into the locker room.
Chapter four
Fashion has been my life for as far back as I can remember. The colors, the fabrics, the bold uniqueness of a designer’s eye … it’s a passion that runs through me like blood. Clothes aren’t just meant to hide your body; they’re an expression of who we are. The perfect outfit can change your life.
That being said, my “perfect” outfit today consists of a denim skirt and a black flannel shirt tied at the waist with a white tank underneath. I normally wouldn’t be caught dead in this Southern belle getup, but if I have to be this version of me for the interim, I can adapt. It may not change my life, but hopefully, it can alter how I’m perceived.
However, my high hopes for a better day are dashed the minute I step outside.
With another plate of eggs still warm in my belly, I wander onto the porch to catch a ride with Jace. Just like yesterday, he barely spoke two words to anyone. Simply took his coffee in the yard and sat in the shade with a cigarette dangling from his lips. Lips, might I add, that sit on his face in a plump little bow that morphs into a scowl every time he sees me coming. He wears his hateful expression like a badge of armor, but every so often, I catch something slipping through his gaze. Heat, not hate. I swear, it almost seems like he gets off on the torture.
Yet he's nowhere to be found when I step into the morning sun. “Jace?” I crane my neck, searching the surrounding area. The truck remains where he parked it last night, but there’s no sign of him anywhere. I turn to go back into the house when it hits me.
Water.
A frigid blast straight from the hose, drenching the outfit I painstakingly put together. I stand frozen in shock, holding my arms out at my sides, watching the droplets fall from the ends of my hair and slide down my legs.
When my gaze rises, I come face-to-face with the gorgeous sneer of Jace Wilder. “What the hell!”
His laughter echoes through the open air, a deep throaty baritone that rumbles in his chest as he drops the hose. “Those ain’t tears I see on your face, are they?”
My eyes go wide. “Are you trying to make me cry?”
“All’s fair in love and war, princess.” He lifts the pack of Marlboros to his mouth and pulls one out with his teeth. He pauses to light the end, then blows a stream of smoke into the air. “You might want to consider putting on somethin’ dry.”
I pull back the emotion brewing in my eyes. He plays dirty, but I won’t let him win, and I can give as good as I get. “Wait right here,” I say as I start back toward the house.
But he grabs my arm as I saunter past. “If you think I’m gonna be waitin’ around for you, you’ve got another thing comin’.”
I cock my head. “Then how am I gonna get to school?”
Jace points at a rusted ten-speed leaning up against the house. “Hope you know how to ride a bike.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth before strutting away.
He can’t be serious.
I throw my hands up. “Unbelievable.” Turning toward the house, I run back inside and into my room. I hear Cindy call my name, but I close the door and hide in the closet, letting my emotions get the best of me. Fury leaks from my eyes as I hide behind the slatted door, soaked and ashamed. How could my mother do this to me? How could she be so fucking selfish and leave me here bleeding from the broken shards of a life she destroyed?
I’ve tried so hard to be strong. I tried to live by her credo and do right by her name, but I’m not like her. I’m not hard or determined. I’ve been sheltered and loved, and I’m so damn mad at her for not preparing me better for the real world. I always thought it was a beautiful place full of possibilities, but it’s not. It’s cold and cruel, and I feel so misled by everything I’ve been taught.
A knock on the door stifles my self-loathing. Cindy’s voice comes through muffled and quiet. “Ellie? You alright?”
I suck back my sobs and clear them from my throat. “Yes. I just had to change real quick. I’ll be out in a sec.”
“Okay, hun.”
Blowing out a hard breath, I step into the room and swap out my saturated clothes for dry ones. I don’t have the time to blow my hair straight. Instead, I tousle it between my fingers with mousse and let the waves fall where they may. A little chaos in my orderly world. Feeling as if the worst is behind me, I swallow my pride and get on my new old bike.
I may not be as strong as my mother, but I will damn well learn to be or die trying.
By the time I get to the lot, my hair is dry from the heat, and my heart is pumping like a freight train. Thank God for all those spinning classes, or I would be in serious pain right now.
I ditch the bike by the rack and run into the quiet hall. A few minutes late means a lot when you’re a social pariah. The thought of walking into class alone weighs on my chest, but I put one foot in front of the other and keep moving until I breeze into Mr. Brenner’s class.
I stroll in with zero fucks. “Sorry I’m late,” I say as flippant as I can.
“I’ll let it slide today, but be on time tomorrow.”
Hushed giggles wave through the room as I slip between desks to get to the back.
“Hey,” Darla whispers the moment Mr. Brenner’s back is turned. “What happened to your high heels, Barbie?”
I ignore her question and start taking notes, but she continues.
“I thought only prudes wore heels.”
With a narrowed gaze, I offer up my sweetest smile. “And I thought only bitches used the word prude.”
My comeback wins a chuckle from the guy behind me, but Darla looks less than amused.
The rest of the class goes on without incident. I pack up my things and start to leave when a few guys raise two tight fingers, their wry grins forcing my brows together.
I choose to ignore their vague taunts, but the odd hand gesture continues throughout the day. Catcalls and whistles, followed by ruckus laughter. I don’t understand this school or the people in it. A two-finger salute is hardly comical, yet everywhere I turn, I’m being haunted by it. By the time lunch rolls around, I’m drowning in my confusion.
With my head low, I wander into the cafeteria. The students titter around me, but I remain silent.
“Ellie!” Chris’s call darts across the room. She waves me over, but Darla steps in my path.
Her smile stretches from ear to ear, a slow Cheshire cat grin that makes my insides burn. She lifts a piece of paper and reads aloud. “Why I’ve chosen the path of purity.”
The crowd within earshot erupts in a fit of giggles, but I feel as if I’ve been punched in the gut. The realization hits like two tons of regret.
How the fuck did they find that?
The article in People magazine was a publicity stunt to help jump-start my nonexistent modeling career. At the time, I was praised for my conviction. I never thought it would come back and bite me in the ass two years later.
Darla continues, “I’m sitting here with Ellie Cartwright, famed daughter of cryptocurrency mogul Sarah Cartwright, to talk about her Purity Pledge to remain abstinent.”
I lurch toward her, but she snaps the print from my reach and hands it back to someone else.
“‘These days, young people are too quick to offer up their bodies when their brains haven’t developed enough to understand what that sacred oath means,’” Jace quotes. “‘Sex is the easy part. It’s learning to love with your heart and mind that’s important, but it gets clouded over when the physical act becomes a priority.’” His laughter rakes me over hot coals. “Imagine People magazine doing an entire article on the fact that no one wants to fuck you.”
Heat plumes on my skin like Napalm. It crawls up my neck and into my cheeks, but the bet with Jace sits on my brain like a pecking bird. Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry. But the more I feel it, the faster it comes. Angry tears are worse than sad since they are harder to control.
Jace pinches his lips together. “You’ve got a coochie in them jeans, right?”
Darla adds, “Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if Barbie here was nothing but smooth plastic down there.”
“I want my things back, Darla.”
She bats her lashes with an air of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A surge of adrenaline powers through me. “The stuff you stole from my locker. My clothes, my shoes, and my mother’s ring.”
That touched a nerve. Darla’s eyes narrow to slits. “Are you insinuating I’ve stolen something from you?”
“I’m not insinuating it. I’m outright saying it.”
She steps forward, faking a stumble, and presses my lunch tray into my chest. “And you’re just a little virgin pig.” She lets out a snort, and her friends join in.
For the second time today, I find myself covered in liquid. The tray falls from my hands as I let out an irate shriek. “That’s it! What is wrong with you people? What did I do to deserve this from you?”
