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

get to say who I let play or not. If I tell you to take an extra ten minutes soaking in an ice bath, you do it. If I tell you to see the physical therapist for a checkup to make sure your body is good, you do it. If I think you need tutoring because your grades are sucking more ass than the Bulldogs this season, then you better see a tutor. See a pattern here?

“I’m not here to hold your hands and tell you everything is okay. I’m here to whip you in shape and win. Some of you have the talent to go pro, and you’re wasting it by half-assing plays that should be easy to implement out there. You better believe the next practice we have we’re going ten times harder than normal until you know how serious I am. That includes conditioning.”

The room breaks out in groans and murmurs that Pearce chooses to ignore. “We got lucky and that’s the only reason I’m letting you off easy. Our next game is against Wilson Reed, and don’t think for one second I’m going to let you screw that up.”

Caleb elbows me knowing what playing them means for me. My nostrils twitch at the thought of seeing the assholes who all but booted me to save themselves. I nod at him in reassurance before trailing my focus back to Coach while he looks around the room at his spent players.

He’s right. We screwed up more times than I can count tonight. Dropped passes. Cracked defenses. These guys were good, but the Wilson Reed Raiders are better. They’ve always been the team to beat.

“I’m over it,” Pearce concludes, waving his clipboard at the team. “Clean up and get out of my face tonight. Rest up, fuel up, and we’ll meet to watch tapes so I can rip into you about what the hell went wrong first thing Monday.”

He exits, followed by the silent assistant coach, leaving us all to wash up and change. I’m waiting for Caleb outside the locker room when my phone buzzes. My parents reach out after games, but they usually give me time to get home. So, when I see the name and the short text attached I’m left staring at the screen in surprise.

Chaos: Heard it was a good game

I reread the text, then snort when a new one vibrates my phone.

Chaos: Still not wearing your jersey

A small grin curls half my lips and I only wipe it away when Caleb smacks my arm to indicate he’s ready. His eyebrows raise as he looks at me, his eyes narrowing slowly before he snorts in amusement. “Let me guess. That look has to do with a blue-haired girl.”

I say nothing, but I don’t need to.

He shoves me.

I shove him back. “Let’s grab some food before we head back.”

After grabbing subs from our favorite deli in town, we go home to the girl in question where I find her studying on the couch. Her papers and books are scattered everywhere, and the laptop I told her she could use is sitting open on the coffee table in front of her playing music.

Ivy may not say a lot to me when I’m home, but her roaming eyes tell me all I need to know when they linger in my direction.

I’m in serious fucking trouble.

“Whatever Coach told you today—”

“Don’t, Aiden.”

“Hear me out,” I tell her anyway. “I don’t know what Coach told you today but ignore him. He’s got his own problems and experiences that get in the way sometimes. He means well.”

Her eyes stay on her paper for a full minute before she sighs and lifts her gaze, her face clear of makeup and her hair pulled back. “I realized something after he left the bakery.”

I sit down next to her, picking up her legs and dropping them on my lap. “What?”

Her smile takes me by surprise. “That I’m worth more than some washed-up former football player’s opinion. He doesn’t know anything about me, and he never will.”

“Ivy—”

“No, listen. What he said sucked and I won’t lie, I wanted to throw something at him. But he knows nothing about me, so why should I let him dictate who I talk to? I can respect him for caring enough about you to warn me off, especially because Elena told me he used to be a pro player and probably has a lot of connections you can utilize.”

“That shit doesn’t matter to me.”

A shoulder lifts casually. “It should though. You’ve wanted this for so long, so why not play by his rules? I’m not saying I’m going to run away because some middle-aged man with a serious attitude problem told me to. I’m trying to make something of myself for once. I’m done running, Aiden.”

My throat bobs at her words. “And what about us?”

“What about us?” she returns.

I look down at her bare legs, smooth and soft and slightly scarred from who knows what. I trace one of the white lines on her calf and wonder how she got it. “Are we okay?”

She barely pauses this time. “As okay as we can be. I’m far from perfect, Aiden. I’m going to say stupid shit and shut down. It’s what I do. But I wouldn’t mind…” Her lips rub together in hesitation. “I wouldn’t mind a friend, even if you’re only going to be around for another month.”

My jaw ticks. “Coach told you?”

“Some of your teammates have loose lips,” she murmurs.

“I was going to tell you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Friends tell each other everything.”

“If anybody gets a free pass, it’s you,” she teases halfheartedly, nudging me with her leg. “I owe you for taking care of me when I was sick, even if the medicine you gave me tasted like ass.”

“How do you know what ass tastes like?”

All she does is grin.

It’s a few moments of comfortable silence between us with nothing but the music playing on the laptop before I say, “You are worth more than anybody’s opinions.