Dare You to Hate Me by B. Celeste (best android ereader .txt) 📗

a month or more after I’d walked over to him and his friends to introduce myself. We always found ourselves back at the fort, climbing over the leftover stone foundation and camping out during the day. After an hour of laying on the ground surrounded by the old fortress’s fallen walls, he’d said, “We should make a deal to always go to each other when things get tough. To always have each other. Like a pact.”

I hadn’t truly understood how serious the ten-year-old boy beside me had been at the time. I wasn’t even sure what a pact was then. But I’d agreed nonetheless because he’d proven to be the person I could come to for an escape whenever I needed. I’d always find him outside riding his bike or playing with Cap, and he’d make time for me no matter what.

At nine, I’d made a clueless pact with the boy who’d become my fast friend to always come to him when things got rough. And I did. Shortly after we’d agreed, I’d begun crawling into his room. The first time he’d asked what was wrong, and I admitted my parents were arguing. I wouldn’t tell him anymore than that. But when it became a reoccurring reason to climb through his window, he’d pass me an extra blanket and pillow, and wouldn’t fall asleep until he knew I was situated in the makeshift bedroom I’d made in his closet, hidden away in case either of his parents checked on him in the middle of the night.

As we got older, the closet got too cramped, and I’d sleep beside him in his bed instead. It wasn’t until I was thirteen when Aiden had started sleeping on the floor because he thought it was too weird to have me beside him.

Looking back now, maybe the small crush I’d had on him by then was obvious. Maybe that was his way of drawing a line. But he never, ever forgot about the pact regardless of how I’d started to feel for the selfless person he was.

Aiden breaks the train of thought I become lost in to say, “Deals are meant to be broken sometimes, but loyalty never is.”

His low tone has me clenching my hands into fists and squeezing. “Who says I’m loyal to you, Aiden Griffith?”

The slowest, most calculated smile forms on his face, making an eerie feeling creep into my chest and wrap around the beating organ that drums in my ribcage. “Baby, I don’t think you’ve ever stopped.”

My throat closes up at his purred baby.

We face off like that until someone clears their throat, and even then, neither of us wants to break the staring contest. It’s Aiden who rips his eyes away first, yet I feel no sense of victory or accomplishment from the small win.

Because Aiden may be right.

I’m not sure if that pisses me off or scares me more, but something tells me I’ll find out soon enough.

It’s drizzling again as I speed walk through campus to get to my last class of the day. I had to miss the first two because I barely had any energy to get out of bed. Usually, I can push past the exhaustion and make do, but I couldn’t even shove the blanket off me when my alarm squawked bright and early.

I know I’ll regret not attending morning courses since there’s nobody in them I can ask for notes. I’ll have to email my professors about what I missed, which I already know won’t go over well. We all got the same “you are adults now” lecture on day one. If you miss a class, you’re responsible for making up the content.

I’m glancing down at my phone when all of a sudden a hand hooks around my arm and yanks me under an awning between two academic buildings. Instantly, my opposite arm reacts in defense. I swing it as fast and as hard as I can toward the person responsible until a strong hand stops me mere inches from his face.

“What the fuck, Aiden!” I drop my arm once I realize it’s him, my heart not calming any from the rapid beating it’s doing in response to his move. It’s a good thing he has killer reflexes because I’ve learned how to pack a punch. “You never grab a woman like that.”

“I called out to you,” he says, gesturing toward my phone. “But you weren’t paying attention. And where the hell is your umbrella?”

My…? “I don’t have one. And you still don’t grab people. I know your mom taught you better than that.”

He deadpans over the mention of his mother. I’ve always loved Emily Griffith for putting him in his place. She never shied away from scolding him if he did something she didn’t approve of. “Life is about learning,” she always told us. “Even if it means messing up and making mistakes in order to figure things out.”

And I’ve definitely made plenty of those.

Aiden says, “DJ mentioned you weren’t in class today. I was worried.”

He was worried.

About me.

“And you’re pale,” he notes, scoping out my face, then the rest of me. I didn’t even bother with much makeup other than lipstick. Trying to keep my shaky hands steady enough to apply my liner and mascara was too much.

I sigh, knowing he won’t relent. “I’m a little worn down. Haven’t been sleeping well. And before you get your panties in a twist, it’s just insomnia.” He goes to speak, but I cut him off before he does. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Or were you randomly lurking here hoping I’d show up? Because that’s pretty creepy if you were.”

His eyes go to the passing students, some walking in raincoats and boots without a care of the weather, and some speeding like I was because they’re not well equipped. At least it’s not too cold. There’s nothing worse than a chilly rain icing everything over once the sun goes down.

Aiden leans against the wall of the brick