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

for long if that’s what you’re asking. And he’s been trying to get you to a game since he finally got the balls to talk to you, so it’s not like he’d throw a fit if you showed up. Especially not at that one. He’ll need plenty of supporters to handle his own demons when he steps onto that turf.”

While his truck idles at the curb, he shifts his body toward mine and rests an arm on the steering wheel. “Listen, Griff is my friend. He barely talks to any of us lately without biting our heads off. I’m not saying that’s your fault. We all know he’s his own worst enemy and doesn’t make things easy for himself. But that’s what worries me. You guys are too similar. One of you needs to cave. So give the guy a break, would you? It’s officially Thanksgiving break now, and Aiden could definitely use a vacation from giving himself to everybody else. He’s wearing himself thin, so change that.”

“I didn’t mean to cause a rift at the house. I never wanted to move in to begin with because I always complicate things like this.”

“We don’t mind,” he tells me.

“Because Aiden told you not to mind.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Raine and I knew you were a laid-back chick since the day we met you. And the guys like you because you’re not afraid to talk back or put DJ in his place when he oversteps. You don’t care what people think of you and it’s refreshing. Most girls that wind up at our house are the opposite because they want to be front and center. And let’s be real. You feed the guys, so they’ll almost always come back like stray animals wanting more.”

I don’t reply because I don’t want to hear about all the women who probably visited Aiden in the past. Not that it could have been too often knowing what I do about him now.

Caleb clears his throat like he knows where my mind went. “Yeah, well, guess after your guys’ talk it’s pretty obvious he kept to himself when some of the jersey chasers found their way inside. So…”

I open the door, not wanting to have this talk with him. “Thanks for the ride.”

Before I close the door, he says, “Coach has a soft spot for Griff. I know he talked to you a while back and I’m glad you said whatever you did to him. Coach Pearce is a great guy, but he’s so busy building a beast on the field he forgets that there are certain things that Aiden is capable of balancing off it too. I doubt Coach’ll care too much if Aiden drives to the game instead of bussing with us. Might be good to have some head space to prepare for whatever will happen out there.”

I don’t say anything.

He adds, “Might be good for him to have you beside him because it won’t be easy going back to the place that let him go so easily.”

It’s hard to swallow as I acknowledge his comment with a short nod before walking toward the bakery.

Would it be better for him?

Something tells me driving to the college that didn’t want him with the girl who left him behind will produce the opposite results.

He can’t be distracted.

I don’t want to see your face.

My fingers ball into a fist and release when I walk in and see Elena’s bubbly face. “Out of your head,” I tell myself.

Another day.

Another front.

But the itch under my skin still remains.

“Head in the game.”

Chapter Twenty

Aiden

I’m tossing the football up in the air and catching it when Ivy shows up at the doorway of my bedroom. Clenching the ball in my hands, I examine her Bea’s Bakery shirt and tight ripped jeans, both absent of the sugar and coffee stains usually caked on when she gets home. “You’re back early.”

She hesitates for a moment before walking in, eyes going from me to the mess of papers and books I left scattered on the desk and floor out of frustration. “Bets let me leave early because it was slow. Are you having trouble with your project?”

I shake my head, tossing the ball again and staring at the ceiling. “You’ve barely said a word to me in days and you want to talk about school?”

She’s quiet as she walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, picking at the lint on the blanket. “No, not really. I don’t even like school.” Her shoulders droop slightly. “My parents never hit me,” she says quietly, causing me to catch the ball and raise my brows at the random admission I already knew.

Sitting up, I lean against the headboard and remain silent while she stares at her twisted hands that fidget on her lap. “Do you remember that one time I knocked on your window and you had to help me in because I was crying so bad I couldn’t climb in myself?”

The memory hits me hard. Her tear-stained face and shaking hands struggled to grip the windowpane and she was trying to swallow her sobs so my parents wouldn’t hear as I helped her inside. “I remember,” I grit out, jaw ticking over the path of memory lane I still struggle with revisiting. “I asked what happened and you could barely say a word. We—”

“Ended up falling asleep on your bed once I calmed down and never talked about it,” she finishes for me, nodding slowly. “You told me as long as I came to you, I didn’t have to say anything. All that mattered was that we had each other like we promised we would.”

I swallow down the rise of emotion that tries working its way up my throat.

“I’m not asking you give me that out all the time, Aiden, just on the things I already struggle with. I’m sorry for walking away and ignoring you when you were trying to help, but I’m not used to you being so demanding. Before you