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Dare You To Hate Me

B. Celeste

Contents

Other books by B:

Playlist

Authorā€™s Note

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Ā© Copyright 2021 B. Celeste

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the authorā€™s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Cover Design: Letitia Hasser, RBA Designs

Editing: KBM Editing

Formatting: Micalea Smeltzer

To those who asked me if Iā€™d ever write a sports romance and I told them no.

Maury detected that was a lie.

Youā€™re welcome.

Other books by B:

The Truth about Heartbreak

The Truth about Tomorrow

The Truth about Us

Underneath the Sycamore Tree

Where the Little Birds Go

Where the Little Birds Are

Into the Clear Water

Color Me Pretty

If I Could

Tell Me When Itā€™s Over

Playlist

ā€œLego Houseā€ ā€“ Ed Sheeran

ā€œLittle Toy Gunsā€ ā€“ Carrie Underwood

ā€œBad At Loveā€ ā€“ Halsey

ā€œGet Stonedā€ ā€“ Hinder

ā€œOne Step Closerā€ ā€“ Linkin Park

ā€œThatā€™s What You Getā€ ā€“ Paramore

ā€œLove Againā€ ā€“ Dua Lipa

ā€œLet Me Down Easyā€ ā€“ Billy Currington

ā€œLasting Loverā€ ā€“ James Arthur

ā€œAgainā€ ā€“ Sasha Sloan

Authorā€™s Note

Trigger Warming: This book deals with self-harm and thoughts of suicide, though neither are graphically shown in this story.

Prologue

They say Iā€™m lucky.

Less than two millimeters to the right and I would have been gone before they found me on the bathroom floor.

But Iā€™m not lucky at all.

I have nothingā€”not a cent to my name, a future to work toward, or a family who knows their daughter nearly bled out on the grubby, cold tiles of a public bathroom at a truck stop.

The rich-colored haired doctor looking over my chart regards me with questionable caution as he delivers yet another, ā€œYouā€™re very fortunate, Ms. Underwood.ā€ Thereā€™s a distant smile on his faceā€”full of curiosity over the eighteen-year-old propped up on the hard stretcher with wrapped wrists and hollow eyes in front of him.

That girl doesnā€™t feel like meā€”she feels distant and cold, lost mentally and emotionally somehow.

ā€œOut of your head, Underwood,ā€ my best friend always told me when Iā€™d lose myself in it, waiting for the trained, ā€œHead in the gameā€ reply he got from me every time.

Iā€™m not her anymore though.

Because Iā€™m not fortunate at all.

I was two millimeters off.

Chapter One

Two Years Later

Ivy

The pounding headache in my temples matches the loud thumping of my housemateā€™s headboard smacking into the wall above me. Covering my face with the stained, flattened, pillow does little to drown out whatā€™s going on upstairs. Whatā€™s always going on. Thatā€™s what you get when your rent is dirt cheapā€”four hours of sleep a night in a party house that I heard had a spare room through the grapevine at work.

I didnā€™t realize when I showed up with two measly bags and the clothes on my back that Iā€™d be shoved in the dank, musty half-finished basement that smells like old socks and lavender Febreze and brushed off with barely a second look from the six other girls I live with. Or that most of them like to party, drink, and screw, usually in that order, whenever they get the chance to.

But Iā€™d endure. I have nowhere else to go in this godforsaken town thanks to my spontaneous decision to get my life together and have no room to judge what Sydney is currently doing in the confines of her bedroom. Iā€™ve done far worse, far more times, Iā€™m sure of it.

Groaning when I drag myself out of bed, I throw on my typical Beaā€™s Bakery attire, blue jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt that has the businessā€™s cartoon bee logo flying around a cupcake across the chest and slide a brush through my faded blue hair. Iā€™m lucky Beatrice Olsen, the elderly woman who owns the bakery here in Lindon, New York, hasnā€™t asked me to dye it back to my natural color. The brown copper color my hair used to be had natural red and caramel highlights in the sunlight, a unique mixture my mother used to tell me she envied because it took a lot of money at salons to produce the same results.

No longer is my hair a mixture of my parentsā€™ā€”my motherā€™s pretty copper and my fatherā€™s chocolate brown. The long locks I desperately need to cut soon are one of the few things I can change about myself. Itā€™s a chance to be someone else even temporarily, an identity of my own, unattached to my past or the people I walked away from.

Itā€™s barely seven in the morning when I slip upstairs, ignoring the moans coming from the only other door off the kitchen besides mine, and focus on grabbing my Starbucks iced coffee from the fridge and leaving before my housemate and her hookup are done.

There havenā€™t been many times where people have bothered me since I moved in back in July. The large white two-story Victorian is well known around campus as the place to party. Unfortunately, that means a lot of guests stay overnightā€”hookups, people too drunk to drive, and the occasional significant other pop up from time to time when Iā€™m not locked in my room.

Raine, the only girl here who acts like I donā€™t have fleas, and her boyfriend Caleb are two people I tolerate. The few times Iā€™ve been hassled by one of my roommateā€™s hookups itā€™s always Caleb that gets them to leave me alone.

The six foot-something running back for Lindon Universityā€™s football team has the kind of smile that could charm the socks off the grinch, but the kind of glare that tells everyone not to mess with him either. Itā€™s no wonder Raine

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