The Boy I Once Hated: Love & Hate Duet
The Boy I Once Hated: Chapter 8

Sixteen years old

“Talk,” I utter curtly into the phone, as I try to balance it on the crook of my neck while simultaneously wiping the oil from my hands.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Derrick teases on the other line, and even though I can’t see his face, I know the fucker is smiling his all-American toothy grin.

“Kind of busy here, D. If you have something to say, just come out and say it and stop wasting my time. I’ve got shit to do.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re always busy these days.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I ask after I’ve thrown my oil rag to the floor to hold the phone closer to my ear.

“It means that you’ve been slacking off lately. My sister can’t shut up about how you’re always busy with something or other. Suddenly, you don’t have time for your friends anymore? What’s that shit all about?”

I let out an irritated exhale, since it seems Stacy let her watch dog off its leash to fight her battles for her. The girl thrives on confrontation, but when it comes to me, she prefers others to do her dirty work for her. Her older brother being her go-to guy for the job. I’m not one bit surprised that Derrick is calling me. I’m just surprised it’s taken him this long to do it.

“Do you really care, or is this social call just to get your sister off your back?” I ask outright.

“Both, asshole,” Derrick mumbles, aggravated. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is these days, but I suggest you get your shit together, pronto. I’ve had it up to here with my baby sister complaining to me twenty-four seven about how you no longer make any time for her.”

“She’ll live,” I counter, not one bit bothered.

“Yeah, well, I might not,” he grumbles, frustrated. “All I’m saying is now that you’ve got sisters of your own, you should know where I’m coming from.”

“They’re not my sisters.”

My growl is filled with such vehemence that it creates a dead silence on the line. Unbeknownst to him, Derrick just managed to hit a sensitive nerve that has been throbbing nonstop since this whole blended family shit consumed my household. I’m still coming to grips with it, and having people think I’m in any way okay with this altered reality, sets my teeth on edge.

“Is that so?” he rebukes after a long pause, insinuation in his tone.

“It’s not like that,” I defend, not liking where Derrek’s head instantly leaped to.

“Are you sure?”

I bite my inner cheek instead of giving him a reply.

“I mean, I get it. Daisy is something else. Hot doesn’t even come close to defining her. Must be hard to have a girl like that walking around your house all the time and not be able to touch her. I’d have a killer time concentrating on my girlfriend with Daisy all up in my business, too.”

I’m not sure why I do it, but with the mention of Daisy’s name, I let out a relieved sigh, followed by laughter that she’s the one that immediately came to his mind.

“First of all, Stacy is my ex-girlfriend. We broke up before summer break, remember? And second, you don’t do girlfriends, D, so how would you know? Besides, it’s not even like that between me and Daisy. She’s cool and all, but not my type. Too high maintenance, that one.”

But just as the words leave my mouth, my brow arches in curiosity when I hear Derrick release his own sigh of relief.

“Cool. Glad to hear it.” He chuckles, suddenly too fucking upbeat, coaxing my curiosity to heighten further. “Now that that’s settled, how about you get your ass over here? I promised Stacy I’d sweet-talk you into having dinner with us tonight.”

“Pass,” I grumble.

Spending the night with my on-again, off-again girlfriend is not how I want to spend my Friday night. I know how it will go. We’ll end up eating some fancy takeout from a restaurant whose name I can’t even pronounce and then spend the rest of the night listening to her gossip about people I have no interest in. I’ll be bored half to death and end up hooking up with her just to shut her up. As much as my dick would love nothing more than to get some much-needed attention, lately, just the thought of sleeping with Stacy churns my stomach.

She’ll want me to say sweet nothings into her ear and stroke her ego by telling her how beautiful she is, when all I want is to get it over with so I can pull on my pants and get the hell out of there. It doesn’t bode well for our so-called relationship that I want to bolt the minute I’m done with her. Stacy might be a bitch when she wants to be, but she doesn’t deserve being played with. Hence, why I’ve tried to keep her at arm’s length lately. Sooner or later, she’ll get the message that we’re done. For how long, though, is anyone’s guess.

All I know is that right now, I’m not in the right headspace nor do I have the patience to act like the devoted boyfriend she demands me to be. I don’t have it in me. Maybe I never did.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Derrick counters with a smug tone.

“How?”

“Got a race going tonight. How does a little extra cash sound to you?”

Now this spikes my interest.

“How much are we talking about?”

“The pot should be a couple grand, at the very least. After I get my cut, that is.”

I chuckle at that.

Derrick doesn’t need the money.

Like Stacy, he’s had a silver spoon shoved into his mouth since he was a baby in his crib, but it’s no secret that the fucker gets a thrill from hustling. I guess spending his daddy’s millions can’t compare to the high he gets from his side businesses. If there is an underground fight or illegal drag race taking place on this island, then you can bet your last dollar that it was Derrick Monroe who organized it. There is only so much you can do in Thatcher’s Bay, and bored high school kids like us, who need a bit of excitement in their lives before we have to face what undoubtedly will be a pathetic existence the minute we graduate, need this rush of adrenaline just to get by.

It’s all about supply and demand.

And like the savvy businessman Derrick is, he saw a need that had to be filled and a way to profit off it. It doesn’t matter if you live on the rich side of the island or the poor one, we all need a little something to get us through the day, and Derrick is all too happy to supply that for us. Not that I care how he gets his rocks off. All I care about is how that extra cash will help pay the debt of my mom’s hospital expenses that are still hanging over our heads.

“I’m in,” I’m quick to reply.

“I thought as much. Come over for dinner, make nice with Stacy for an hour, and then we can get down to business.”

“Let me grab a shower and I’ll be there in a few.”

“I’ll be here.”

I hang up and start hurriedly cleaning the mess I made in the garage before I head back inside to get ready, my previous solemn mood long forgotten. My father will probably bitch that I’ll miss family dinner, but that’s just another added bonus for me. Having to sit at the same table with his new wife—the woman he was obviously having an affair with while my mom was on her deathbed—and pretend that everything is hunky-dory just so I can play into his illusion that we are one big happy family, disgusts me.

Not that he gives a shit about how I feel.

He’s too preoccupied with how his new family is getting on to care about his old one.

Ever since Clara and her daughters moved in, he’s made it a point to be home for every dinner, fully stepping into the role of devoted family man, and turning down jobs that will take him out to sea for days on end.

Funny how he never made that sacrifice when Mom was alive. How money was always an issue back then and staying home was never an option. But I know that this fucking honeymoon phase of his has a ticking clock on it. Sooner or later, the debt collectors will start making noise, and he’ll have no choice but to face reality. He’ll never truly be able to escape his past, just as I can’t escape my future.

But while he’s on this delusional trip of his, one of us should have their feet on the ground and do what needs to be done. A few races and fights will get me the money we need to keep our heads above water. The last thing I want is for us to lose our home to the bank just because my father is too busy playing house. He might not think twice about putting my childhood home in jeopardy, but this is the house my mom lived in most of her life, and like hell I’ll give it up just because it no longer holds memories he wishes to remember. I guess the point of him having Clara and her daughters move into my home is so that he can create new memories and erase my mom completely.

Fucker.

Hatred starts bleeding through my pores, and instead of tempering it, I do the very opposite and harness it as fuel for tonight’s race. Hate can be quite the motivator, and lately it’s the only thing that keeps me from losing my shit. And if I want to be a few thousand dollars richer by night’s end, I’m going to need all the advantages I can get.

These are the thoughts that run wild in my head as I walk into the house and run up the flight of stairs up to my room. But just as I step into the hall, my brow furrows when I see my bedroom door left ajar. Slowly, I walk toward my room and open the door wider, rage consuming me from within at what I replace.

“You have exactly one minute to tell me what the fuck you’re doing in my room. Start talking.”

My hands curl into fists at my sides as I stare daggers at Skylar’s immovable back. She’s so still that the only proof I have that she’s breathing is the faint sound of her shallow breaths. When she refuses to acknowledge me or tell me why the fuck she’s in my room uninvited, I step farther inside and slam my bedroom door so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t come off its hinges. Like I expected, the loud thud has her jumping in place, turning around to finally face me. My fury only increases with the way she brazenly looks me dead in the eye, like I’m the one in the wrong here. The only thing that shows her guilt is the way her cheeks flush crimson. Even if I didn’t know she was up to no good before I caught her in the act, her pink cheeks are a dead giveaway.

“Are you deaf? I asked you a question,” I seethe through gritted teeth, doing my best not to bridge the distance between us and strangle her where she stands. I’d never lay my hands on a woman in anger, but Skylar sure likes to test my fucking restraint. I’d bet she would laugh in my face if I ever even tried to wring her long slender neck. “Well? I don’t have all day.”

“It’s not what it looks like,” she stammers, her gaze falling behind me toward the door, hating that I’m standing right between her and her escape. “I was just…I was just—”

“You were what? Snooping around my stuff? Getting off at going through my things without permission?”

“No!” she yells, shaking her head in denial.

“Liar. That’s exactly what you were doing!” I shout, my feet suddenly moving closer to her.

“I wasn’t. I was just…” she tries to explain, walking a step back with each step I take toward her.

“You were just what, Sky? If you’re going to lie to me, at least make it a good one.”

“I…um… I…” she stutters, looking around the room for a plausible excuse.

But all her would-be lies die on the tip of her tongue when her ass hits my desk and I’m standing just a hair’s breadth away from her.

“You look scared, Sky.” I smirk. “Do I scare you?”

“Please,” she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest to put a barrier between us.

“Bullshit. You are. You’re fucking terrified.”

She widens those big silver eyes of hers, piercing me with all the contempt she holds for me.

Like I fucking care.

“In what world could you ever scare me?” she bites back, pissed, no longer looking guilty for what she’s done. I guess facing my wolfish grin does that to her. Not that I mind. I prefer her like this. It will only make breaking her that much sweeter if she puts up a fight.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I muse, running a finger down her cheek. “I think in the same world where I catch you in my room and when no one is around to help you.”

She slaps my hand away, squaring her shoulders and inching her face closer to mine, completely unintimidated.

“Touch me and I’ll scream.”

I laugh.

“Scream all you want. Go for it. I dare you.”

I count the seconds in my head as she continues to glare at me and when she opens her mouth to let out the loudest scream worthy of a Jamie Lee Curtis award, my lips stretch into a smile. When she’s done, her chest heaving and panting for breath, I make a show of looking around the empty room to drive the point home.

“See? No one is coming to help you. Because no one gives a fuck about you.”

“Fuck you!”

“Is that it? Is that all you got?” I tsk, feigning disappointment. “You have to do much better than that.”

“You know what? Just when I start to think that maybe there is a beating heart in here, you remind me that you’re nothing but an asshole,” she sneers, stabbing my chest with her finger. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Ah, is that what you were looking for? Proof that I was human after all?” I laugh sadistically. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, you’re not. You like it. Actually, no. You love people thinking you’re a dick. Compensating much?” she taunts with a cocked eyebrow.

“Oh, you want to go there, Sky? Okay, I’ll bite. Tell me. Does this feel like I’m compensating for anything?” I say before fully crashing into her just so she can feel my hard mast poke into her stomach.

Her gaze widens in alarm, and her pretty little pink blush turns even redder. I’m not sure why my cock sprung to life like this just by arguing with my stepsister, but right now I don’t care. All I care about is watching Sky squirm where she stands.

“Get the fuck off me,” she warns softly.

“Make me.”

Her nostrils flare as she pushes my shoulders with all her might, thinking that will force me to step back. I laugh in her face as I remain rooted to my spot.

“You’re going to have to do better than that.” I smirk.

“Is that another dare?”

“If you can handle it.”

My hackles rise when she plants on a fake-ass sweet smile just for me. Unfortunately, I’m not quick enough to read her next move, so I never see it coming when her knee jams in between my legs.

“Argh!” I shout, instantly falling to the floor with blinding pain, grabbing my junk in my hands.

Fuck!

Shit!

Goddamn it!

With me cursing in pain laid out on the floor, Sky uses my momentary incapacity to her advantage, turning around to pick up my algebra textbook off my desk and hug it to her chest.

“I left mine in my locker. That’s why I came into your room, dipshit. I needed it to study for the test we’re going to have next week. Since I know you don’t care for such things, I didn’t think you’d mind me taking yours,” she explains as she steps over my crouched frame. “But thanks. This was entertaining. Let’s do it again soon. Not.”

I watch through squinted eyes as Skylar leaves my room and slams my door behind her.

Once the excruciating pain starts to subside, I lay flat on my floor, my arms outstretched as I stare at my popcorn ceiling. The girl just rearranged my balls, and yet my cheeks hurt from the big-ass grin on my face.

“Well played, little stalker,” I utter into the air. “Well fucking played. But I can play dirty, too. Just wait and see.”