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

going to do what makes me happy, I want a fresh start. No more hiding.”

“The talk with Bea went well then?”

Her eyes go behind the counter briefly before she stands on her toes and presses a kiss to my lips. “Better than good. She told me I can stay as long as I’d like. She’s even giving me some of her old recipes to practice making.”

The woman in question comes out from the back, flour covering her black apron and a big smile on her face. “She’s forgetting the most important part of what I told her.”

Ivy groans.

“I said I couldn’t say no to her running away with you when the time came because she couldn’t do any better if she tried.”

I laugh as Ivy turns to the older woman with her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m not running away with him.”

Bea’s eyes change slightly. “You’re right. I’d say you’ve done enough running in your lifetime. It’s about time you settled, hmm?”

The comment makes me wonder just how long their talk was.

When I get her full attention, I say, “I’m going to Everly’s for a while, then meeting up with Caleb later on. Told him we’d stop by toward closing to get you.”

“You don’t have to—”

I stop her there. “I don’t have to do anything, but I want to. Plus, it’s cold outside, there’s ice everywhere, and you’re insistent on not needing a car.”

Her stance is the same. “I haven’t driven in years and cars are expensive. I don’t need one when I can walk places.”

“Exactly. So, we’re picking you up.”

She glares.

I shrug.

Bea laughs before disappearing into the back again.

“So, do you want your usual?” she asks, shifting gears.

“Is that your way of saying you want half my bagel?”

“Are you going to keep insinuating you only ask for half of one because you knew I’d eat the other?”

All I say is, “The usual please.”

“Fine, but I’m putting real butter on it instead of that nasty olive oil spread you like.” She goes to work doing just that, passing me a coffee a few minutes later, then a bag with half an everything bagel a few minutes after that.

“Was that so hard?” I tease, passing her what I owe.

“I hate you sometimes.”

I lean in again, crowding her space. “I dare you to hate me, Ivy. We both know you don’t. You couldn’t even if you tried.”

Her breath falters at the words I’ve said once before, except now the meaning is completely different.

Because she loves me.

Even if she won’t admit it yet.

Epilogue

Ivy

“You have no idea what’s going on, do you?” the woman with blue streaks in her blonde hair muses. My hands have been curled tightly together as I watch Aiden fly across the field with three opposing players chasing after him and the ball he’s cradling close to his chest.

The smile I offer is shy. “Is it that obvious?”

Her lips tilt upward, causing the blue paint on half her face crinkle. “You’ve looked lost this whole time, and maybe a little nauseous. I was wondering who you were here with since you don’t seem that educated on the game.”

An amused laugh bubbles from me because I have felt like I’m going to be sick whenever Aiden is nearly taken down. “You’d think I’d have it figured out after all the games I’ve been to by now, but you’d be wrong.”

She laughs, holding out her hand. “At least you’re honest. Most women pretend they know what’s going on, but they’re really only here to try getting attention from the players in hopes of going home with one of them. I’m Cassy, by the way.”

“Ivy.” Our eyes turn back to the field when a commotion stirs a few strangled gasps from the people around us.

Cassy sucks in a breath when Aiden jumps over a fallen player who must have failed at taking him out, before twisting around another, barely avoiding a tackle, and diving into the end zone right as the last quarter ends.

“Holy shit,” my seatmate whispers in as much awe as I feel. The referee jogs over and gives the signals to someone before the scoreboard changes to appoint the New York Giants another 6 points. “We won. WE WON!”

The sea of blue and white people around us go wild, jumping up and down and screaming out the number of the newest tight end on the team as he gets up and grabs the ball as other members of the Giants come running over and surround him in celebration.

“They may go to the Super Bowl if they keep this up,” Cassy tells me, screaming over the others still celebrating the victory.

I nod along, trying to see over the crowd. Aiden and the others are walking off the field together, and I know I’ll get a text within minutes of him getting safely back to the locker room to let me know where and when to meet him outside.

“So why are you here?” my seatmate asks as we collect our things.

A sly grin stretches across my face. “I’m hoping to go home with one of the players.”

Her eyes widen and cheeks pinken as her gaze darts to the jersey I’m wearing. It’s brand new, with GRIFFITH printed on the back and 88 on the front. If he got his way, he would have had one custom made that said GRIFFITH’S HANDS OFF, but I told him I’d shred it before anyone saw it on me.

Something flashes over her face after she’s done giving me a once-over. “What’s your last name again?”

All I say before elbowing my way out of the row of seats is, “I didn’t tell you.”

I was supposed to meet Porter here for the game, but he had a last-minute schedule change that made him have to stay on campus. Since the Giants went to Miami to play the Dolphins, it would have worked perfectly with Porter at the University of Miami. Aiden convinced him to accept the full scholarship that covered everything he’d need as long as