Dare You to Hate Me by B. Celeste (classic fiction .txt) 📕

After she meets my eyes again, there’s a glint in them that I can’t quite read until she blows out a breath and says, “You’re annoying as hell, you know that?”

I give her an easy shrug. “People who care will irritate you no matter if you like it or not. That’s how you know they’re legit.”

Her head tilts. “Are you? Legit?”

Chuckling lightly, I tip my chin toward the food in her hand and back up. “Eat. I’ll be in my room if you need anything. Let me know when you’re ready for bed.”

Another sigh. “Aiden—”

I wink and shut the door behind me knowing she won’t follow. Maybe I should be worried that she’ll up and leave, but her bags are currently sprawled on my bed. If she does bolt, she’ll have nothing but the clothes on her back and something tells me she won’t easily let go of what she’s collected over the years.

It’s hours later when I’m finishing up a few assignments and realize there’s utter silence coming from the room outside mine. When I glance at the clock and notice it’s past midnight, I grab a blanket from my tiny closet and check to see if she’s still there.

Ivy is curled up on the couch, her hands under her cheek like a pillow fast asleep when I approach. I watch her for a few moments, seeing how her full chest rises and falls to a slow, peaceful rhythm, before sighing to myself.

Instead of draping the blanket over her, I carefully put one arm under her knees and the other under her back and scoop her into my arms. She murmurs and squirms but settles against my chest as I walk us back to my room and gently place her on the bed.

It isn’t until I’m flicking the lights off, peeling off my shirt, and sliding down my jeans to crawl in beside her that her groggy voice penetrates the room. “What are you doing?”

I smack the pillow a few times before resting against it. “Go to sleep, Ivy.”

She shifts when I cover us with the comforter and says something unintelligible that I don’t bother trying to make out.

“Shh,” I say, turning on my side so my back is to her. If I face her, if I inch closer, she’ll feel how hard I am and the moment will be ruined. I’m not trying to fuck her, to give her mixed signals or expectations like her staying here has to mean something between us. I want her friendship. I want her.

“Let me have this, Chaos. For old time’s sake.” My voice is hard, bordering on desperate, as I deliver the statement.

For once, she doesn’t fight me.

Chapter Twelve

Ivy

I’m walking into one of the bathrooms in Myers Hall after another crushing exam grade and stop in front of the water-stained mirror. My reflection is haggard, the makeup contoured on my face doing little to hide the exhaustion lingering even though I’ve been sleeping better than I have in a long time next to Aiden.

The body heat wrapped around me at night does little to chase away the things that resurface when my conscious is at its weakest though. I always get trapped remembering the choices I made which led to some of my darkest moments. And every time I wake up in a cold sweat, Aiden is right there, where he always is beside me to pull me into his arms and tell me it’s just a nightmare.

But it’s not. Every time I wake up slick with sweat, chest heavy, and mind warped with anxiety, I know it’s my own doing. I pretend to be okay, but I’m not. I pretend to be strong, but I’m not. How can I be when I’ve let my weaknesses get the better of me?

Sleep has always been hard for me. The few hours I get are the best I can do because I always force myself to wake up before something bad happens. You can never be too careful when there’s a stranger sleeping next to you—you never know who invited you inside their home, or what their intentions are past sex.

Yet Aiden’s reassurance is the biggest reason I never fight being carried to his bedroom every time I fall asleep on the couch. I curl up on his suede sofa watching something mundane on the television knowing the next time I open my eyes will be in a room surrounded by the only person I’ve ever called friend.

Next to his strong body.

His kind heart.

He never complains when I take the blankets or hog his pillows, and that’s if I’m not using him as my own personal body pillow. We don’t talk about morning breath or the clear morning wood he sports or make a big deal out of it. We never used to either, but there was never this tension—a tiny, invisible string attaching us that could break easily if we let it.

Blowing out a breath, I run the cold water and splash some on my overheated face. The poor exam grade isn’t going to hurt my GPA that bad. I’ll pass, which is a miracle considering I rarely understand what’s going on half the time. School has never been my strong suit, something I used to be reminded of when report cards were sent home to my parents’ house when I was younger. The C’s and D’s always sprouted another argument between them until the end result would be me promising to raise my grades by the end of the year. With Aiden’s help, I always did. Unlike me, he was a brainiac. Everything came so easy for him and it made me feel embarrassed when he’d help me study for something and it’d take three times as long for anything to stick in my head.

Even now, I can tell little has changed. Knowing his perfect GPA, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he can wait last minute to do an assignment