Hate (2 page)

He threw his warm arm around my shoulders and turned me, heading in the direction of no one. Darkness settled around us so heavily that it cloaked even the shadows.

“I thought we were meeting this new, perfect friend.”

“We are,” he confirmed, pushing my uncooperative legs forward with the pressure of his hand.

“But the people are back that way,” I gestured, looking back over my shoulder.

“Not all of the people,” he corrected, grasping my chin and turning it back to the stretch of fence in front of us.

When my eyes adjusted to the lack of light, I finally saw it.

One lone girl, wearing loose jeans and a jacket a size too large. Her appearance wasn’t disheveled in a dirty or misfortunate sort of way. She just looked like she wasn’t trying at all.

I had to admit, that was a good sign.

“Hey Franny,” Blane called out in greeting, taking his arm from around me and wrapping it around her in a friendly hug.

She embraced him in return, but it was a touch more timid.

“Franny, huh?” I asked immediately as Blane stepped back to lean against the fence between us, one booted foot bowing the links with its presence. “Is that short for Francesca?”

“Nope,” she responded with a shake of her head. “Just Franny.” A shrug lifted the long dark hair into a curve on top of her shoulders. “I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but I swear my parents love me.”

A girl who mocks her own name? Another positive sign.

“It just turns out they love my Great Aunt Franny more.”

Laughing, I turned to Blane and raised my eyebrows in consent. Maybe he was right about this girl. Though still on probation, he didn’t seem worried.

“So why are we at the football game? Are your loving parents making you come to this too?” I joked as I turned back.

“No.” Her answer was absolute. “I wanted to come.”

Shit.

I cut my eyes to Blane sharply, a deep shade of accusation shifting my normally dull blue to midnight, but all he gave me was a teasing wink.

“You wanted to come?” I asked again. For some reason, I wasn’t willing to accept that a girl who looked like her and wanted to be friends with people like us could want to run with this crowd too.

“Yeah,” she confirmed. But this time, she looked unsure, glancing at Blane for reassurance.

Obviously, he gave it.

“I’m not really interested in being involved, but, well, I like to watch.” Looking from me to the group of people behind me, she continued, “I like the idea that all of these people can come together to do this one thing. That there’s an entire group of girls who’ve dedicated their time to doing nothing but encouraging the players and crowd to come together and be more powerful.”

When I just stared at her, dumbfounded, she shrugged. “I know, it’s cheesy.”

Looking from her to Blane, I tilted my head at his smug smile. “Seems more like the inside of a gooey cookie to me.”

Blane just laughed, pulling each of us under one of his long, muscular arms. But his eyes came to me, and they were unbelievably fond. “I knew you were a patriot.”

May 1999

“HEY GUYS,” I GREETED AS I looked up from my peanut butter and jelly sandwich to see Blane and Franny bearing down on our lunch table.

“Hey, Whitney,” Franny responded at the same time that Blane gave me his usual, “Hey, pretty girl.”

“I can’t believe you guys keep taking your chances with the mystery meat. Ugh,” I shivered. “That’s what peanut butter is for.”

When nobody said anything for several seconds, I peeled my eyes away from my sandwich and chips and found two nervous faces in front of me.

Their eyes were wide and the set of their mouths was alarmingly grim.

“What’s the deal, Thing 1 and Thing 2? Your expressions are eerily similar.”

After looking at each other, the silent communication of a a well-oiled, longstanding friendship working at its finest, Blane wrapped his arm around Franny’s shoulders, turned back to me, and spoke. “I asked Franny to be my girlfriend.”

“And I said yes,” she added quickly but quietly.

I felt a sharp stab in my chest, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

Their posture slouched in anticipation, the space between us narrowing as a result.

“Um, okay? I’m failing to see what about that is making you guys look like you’re one socket short of a set. This is happy news, is it not?”

“Well, yeah,” Blane confirmed, a flash of surprise seeming to overcome his features as he rocked them back as a unit.

“So, what? You guys want me to leave so you can make boom boom right here on the cafeteria table?”

“God, no!” Franny protested with a dark, rosy blush.

“I’m not sure you should be
that
opposed to the idea of that, sweetheart,” Blane joked under his breath. She tucked her face into her hand.

But still, they looked unsure.

“Then what? I’m the third wheel now?”

“You know that would never happen, Elbow,” Blane stated, his face serious.

“Then turn those frowns upside down for cripes sake.” Aiming a pointed index finger directly at his unusually unsure face, I ordered, “And can it with that Elbow shit already.”

“Never,” he disagreed on a smile. Leaning forward, he placed one gentle kiss on the very apple of my cheek.

The warmth of it lingered.

Sinking back to his seat and wrapping Franny in his embrace once more, he repeated, “Never.”

Late July 2001

EASING OPEN THE WALK-THROUGH gate at the side of Blane’s house, I was surprised by the absence of noise on the other side.

Peaking beyond the wooden barrier between me and the yard, I cringed at the creak of the hinges and, when I spotted no one, started to get nervous.

How could I have gotten this wrong? I could have sworn I had the date and time right.

“Whitney?” I heard called softly, just as I was about to turn around, head down the block a little ways, and sit and wait to see if anyone else showed up.

Figuring I was caught, I stepped the rest of the way through the gate and let it click closed behind me.

“Hey, Mr. Hunt,” I greeted. “Um, I’m sorry to bother you. Blane told me there was a barbecue today, but I must have gotten it wrong.”

He chuckled easily, a friendly smile transforming his sometimes intimidating face. Clearly, he had been the genetic source for Blane’s intensity. Still, his jaw wasn’t quite as harsh as his son’s, and while Blane’s hair leaned toward a medium brown, his father’s perfectly defined dark. And his eyes were an emerald green. Beautiful. Striking even.

But not blue.

“Come on in, sweetheart. You’re in the right place at the right time. Obviously, Blane just wanted you here a little early and he’s running late.” When I stayed silent, he added, “He went to get Franny.”

“Oh, okay,” I muttered, taking an awkward step forward and running the soft cotton of my t-shirt mindlessly through my fingers.

I liked Blane’s dad. I’d been around him a lot, and he was always kind and welcoming. But I’d never been alone with him, and I found myself nervous about it. Not because I thought he would be mean or weird or negative in any way, but because I was seventeen and not as sure of myself as I would have liked to have been.

“You’re not one of those vegetarian kids, are you?” he asked randomly. Remnants of hamburger clung comically to his raised palms.

“Um, no,” I answered, just one corner of my mouth curving upward involuntarily.

Happiness warmed his features again. “Good. I need some help seasoning up these burgers, and I figured raw cow wasn’t the sort of thing a girl like that would be into handling.”

“Well, I’m not vegetarian, but I’m pretty sure your referring to it as raw cow isn’t helping,” I replied instinctually.

Pink tinged my cheeks in the seconds immediately following, my every vicariousness overwhelmed with embarrassment. I spoke my mind, and I liked it. But I wasn’t so sure what I had said didn’t come off as mildly disrespectful when saying it to someone else’s parent. My mom would have been throwing my first, middle, and last name all over the place.

Thankfully, Mr. Hunt didn’t make me suffer long, his laughter ringing loudly into the empty space of their big backyard.

“I see why Blane likes you so much,” he said with a wink. Now his wink,
that
was just like Blane’s. He nodded, his eyes shining with what looked like pride. “You hold on to that fiery spirit, Whitney. Smart men will look for a smart woman.”

His unsolicited advice could have come off as condescending, but it didn’t. He said it with honesty, ease, and passion, and it seemed as though it was something he didn’t do often. But for some reason, he looked at me and saw someone worthy of his wisdom.

At least, that was the way it felt.

The gate burst open suddenly, Blane and Franny tumbling through it, laughing raucously. Their cheeks were flushed, and their eyes never left one another. Where one’s limbs started, the other’s seemed to end.

I rarely felt out of place with the two of them, but in that moment, I shifted uncomfortably between my feet. I felt like a voyeur. Still, my eyes stayed glued to them until a gentle hand squeezed my shoulder.

As I looked up to him on my left, Mr. Hunt spoke. But it wasn’t to me. “You’re late, son.” He didn’t yell, but his voice did boom. It was enough to pull Blane’s eyes in my direction, and subsequently, after meeting his father’s briefly, to mine.

His face lit up.

“Hey, pretty girl! My old man’s not trying to put you to work, is he?” he teased as he disentangled himself from his hold on Franny and came sauntering my way. His walk was casual, but his speed was fast. He had the amazing ability to hurry without ever looking like he was hurrying.

“It’s not my fault you left her here unoccupied,” his father joked before I could answer, pulling me even closer into his embrace.

“Well, she’s occupied now,” he proclaimed, throwing an arm around my shoulders, breaking me free, and leading me away.

Looking back at Mr. Hunt, I watched as he winked and smiled.

“I can still help you, Mr. Hunt,” I offered earnestly, pulling Blane to a stop. It didn’t feel right to just bail on him now that Blane was there.

“Nah. I’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he said as he waved a masculine hand.

Accepting his response, if only for lack of something else to do, I succumbed to Blane’s arm and allowed him to lead me away.

But when I looked back a second time, he was still watching the three of us, and he took a deep breath.

As much as I wondered, I couldn’t figure out why.

One day, though, I would know.

September 2001

A SINGULAR MOMENT.

One that changes everyone and everything, and you can’t go back.

For me, it was the moment I fell in love. The moment I knew that the soul staring at me through magnificent, pain-filled blue eyes was the one I wanted to connect with mine for the rest of my life.

The problem with that was, at that exact same moment, I could see his soul recognize that mine was
not
the one he wanted.

Not ever.

THE SOUND OF SEAGULLS WARNED of the closeness of the New Jersey coast—one of the state’s most unexpected treasures and New Yorker magnets in equal measure—and the random crispness of a September day clenched my short sleeve-encased arms close to my body.

I rounded the corner with my hands in my pant pockets, the small ball of lint in my left one serving as a good distraction for the thumb and forefinger of that hand, and came face to face with Blane Hunt.

We’d come so far together, the intricacies of our friendship growing and enhancing with time, but this change wasn’t welcome.

His long, scraggly hair curled around his ears and fell into the lush lashes surrounding his eyes, and his posture told a story of casualness that was noticeably absent from his face. His blue eyes blazed into mine, licking and stinging like a tangible flame despite the twenty or so feet that still separated us.

That was him, though.

Intense. Foreboding. Sincere, loyal, and completely anti-bullshit.

His muscles were imposing, and his smile dropped panties.

He was the ultimate teenage bad boy, complete with the knocked up girlfriend.