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

He never corrects him, or anyone, when they call me his girl.

His.

Girl.

But then again, I don’t either.

When did I stop denying it?

Chapter Twenty-One

Ivy

The sweat covering my palms doesn’t go away even with three passes of them over my denim-clad thighs. My eyes focus on the scenery and speeding cars we pass on the interstate as I listen to the soft sound of music crooning from the speakers of his truck. The distraction is enough to stop focusing on the destination.

“Out of your head, Underwood,” Aiden tells me for the millionth time, reaching over and taking one of my hands in his. I don’t remember getting sick of those words until recently. It’s like they’ve taken up permanent residence in my head whether I like it or not.

I wince at how clammy my palm is and try pulling away before he notices, but he threads our fingers and keeps them held tightly together between us like he doesn’t care. “It’s not going to get you anywhere. Plus, the child locks are on so you can’t make a run for it.”

I gape at him like he’s insane. “We’re going 90 on a four-lane interstate with homicidal drivers weaving in and out of traffic around us.”

“Not like you haven’t tried escaping a moving vehicle before,” is his smart remark that makes me glower even if it’s true.

Sinking into the seat, I rest back on the headrest and study our linked hands from the corner of my eye. “You never used to touch me this much when we were younger.”

A sound rises from his throat and his fingers twitch around mine. “I didn’t know if you wanted to be. Things were complicated then.”

My eyebrows quirk, a nervous bubble of laughter escaping my lips. “And they’re not now? If anything, we’re the dictionary definition of complicated these days.”

“Why?”

Is he serious? There’s an endless list of reasons that pop into my head. “Because I ran away from home, slept with who knows how many men for shelter, sliced myself up like a Thanksgiving turkey, and corrupted you by taking your virginity.”

The grip he has on the steering wheel turns his fingers white. “You didn’t ‘take’ anything, Ivy. I willingly gave you that. I don’t even want to address the other shit because we’ve already talked about it. You did what you had to.”

I say nothing, swallowing down the anxiety creeping up my throat.

“Your favorite color is purple, isn’t it?”

I blink. “What?”

“I never understood why because your room was pink, you only wear dark colors, and I don’t think you own one purple item. But you always said it was your favorite.” I think of the red and blue cop lights for a moment. Something beautiful was created from the constant chaos and I resonated with that. The purple tones would flicker and flash through the bottom of my bedroom closet whenever they’d arrive.

“You’re still obsessed with caffeine, but only drink those overpriced, nasty ass Starbucks drinks they sell at gas stations and the Stop N’ Shop.” Aiden looks at me for the quickest second before focusing back on the road. “Your eye twitches when you’re irritated, like it is right now. You wear your emotions on your face, you pretend to be a bitch so people don’t talk to you, and you dye your hair because…well, honestly, I don’t know why you do that. You used to love how much the color was a mixture of your parents. You said it was like you got a little of both of them, but the good parts.”

Wincing at the words I’d used so long ago, my hand goes lax in his to stop from fighting his persistence. I blow out a sigh. “That makes me sound like I thought they were awful all my life. They were just…intense.” Shaking my head, I stare out the window. “Most of that is observations anyone could make, you know. Even DJ if he spent time paying attention to people instead of flirting with them.”

“You trying to tell me all your hookups knew even one of those things about you? Something tells me they had one thing on their mind, and it wasn’t about your favorite color.”

“Do you really want to know about them?” I take his silence as an obvious answer. “Didn’t think so. For the record, you’re probably right. I didn’t even know half their names, so why would they know anything about me? But before you get all high and mighty for making a point, we both know it wasn’t the same with them. It was a place to stay.”

My eyes drift to the reflection in the sideview mirror which shows silver-white hair with red streaks to replace my faded blue thanks to Elena’s help. Once she found out I was taking the day off to go to the Wilson Reed game, she’d insisted on our school colors.

I touch one of the pin-straight ends of my hair and tug lightly. I’ve damaged the strands from all the chemicals I’ve put in it over the years. One day I’ll be comfortable enough to go back to my natural color and stop messing with it to give it time to heal. “I dye my hair because it’s one of the few things I can do for myself.”

He squeezes my hand. “It’s control,” he states in understanding. “It looks good.”

“School spirit,” I mock, trying to look as excited as Lena did when she saw the finished product. “According to Lena, that’s Bea’s granddaughter, I need to have a lot of it since I refuse to hold a sign professing my undying love for you or Lindon.”

His long silence nips at me until I’m shifting in the seat. “Don’t be weird about it.”

All he offers is, “What?”

“What I said.”

“About…?”

My eyes narrow. “Seriously?” I see the corners of his lips curve. “You’re an ass,” I mumble.

“But you tolerate it. You always have when it comes to me and the shit I say.”

I flick his hand, but it doesn’t