Falling Out of Hate with You

Chapter 2

Watching Viola’s cheeks turn bright red gives me a thrill every time. She’s easy to rile up and even easier to embarrass. She pretends to hate me, but let’s be honest, there’s hardly anything about me worth hating. Even when she was just ten years old and we’d just met, I could make her blush without even speaking.

I work out every chance I get, eat right, and work my a*s off both in and out of the gym. When I’m not lifting weights or at my job, I enjoy other types of recreation.

Currently, her name is Rachel, and she’s basically salivating at the mouth as she waits for me to give her what she’s begging for.

I give in, of course.

I’m a guy, after all.

When we’re both sated and panting next to each other, I clean up and pull my boxer shorts back up. She curls her body around mine and places a quick kiss on my shoulder. “Are you kicking me out now?”

I look over my shoulder and give her a sympathetic grin. “Sorry, babe. No sleepovers.”

That’s not entirely a rule set in stone, but I prefer to sleep alone. Especially if there’s no chance of morning s*x the next day. I get up at five a.m. and head to the gym before I have to be to work at eight.

“All right.” She gets up and searches for her clothes. Once she’s dressed, she grabs her purse and walks over for a goodbye kiss. “Call me later.”

“Sure.” I escort her out of the house and kiss her once more before shutting the door. I spin around and nearly run over Viola as she passes in the hall.

“Aw…another victim released. How sweet of you.”

“They aren’t victims if they’re willing,” I retort matter-of-factly.

“Well, they’re airheads if they are.” She continues walking to the kitchen, and I follow reluctantly.

“You sure sound pretty envious.”

“It’s not. It’s pity. There’s a difference.” She opens the fridge and reaches for a bottle of water.

“Trust me…she’s not feeling any amount of pity right about now.” I lean up against the doorframe and watch her take a long drink.

“If not pity, then definitely regret. Or perhaps she’s wondering where the nearest clinic is so she can get tested.” She takes another pull of her water and ignores my glare.

“Just because a woman likes s*x doesn’t make her an airhead. But you wouldn’t know that, would you? Not when you keep your V-card hostage like it’s a million-dollar diamond.”

“For the hundredth time, I’m not a virgin!” she retorts sharply. “Just because I don’t spread my legs as much as a gymnast doesn’t mean I’m a prude.”

“Well, it sure as hell doesn’t make you a delight.”

She tosses the bottle out and steps toward me, shoving her shoulder against me as she walks past. “Knowing how to use your d**k doesn’t make you a god, Travis.”

I spin around and face her as she walks away. “You speak as if you know from experience.”

“Trust me. The walls are thin. The entire neighborhood knows from experience,” she calls over her shoulder.

“So are you saying I should be sorry for knowing how to use my d**k?”

She freezes and turns toward me. “No, you should be sorry for anyone that falls for your s**t that gets them into your bed in the first place.” She presses her lips together in a fake smile and walks down the hall and back to where Drew is still playing his game.

I don’t know what her problem is, but I’m determined to find out.

It’s already ten o’clock, and I have a long day at the office tomorrow, but I can’t get Viola off my mind long enough to fall asleep.

This never happens, by the way.

Okay, well, maybe it does. Only when she gets under my skin, which happens to be all the damn time.

But you can’t blame me. She’s always perfect and proper, never wrong, and always knows the answer to everything. She’s that annoying smart kid in class who always f***s up the grading curve for everyone else. The one who wears modest clothes but somehow always ends up looking sexy as f**k.

On the outside, Viola Fisher is the poster child of innocence and purity. But I know better.

Viola Fisher has tattoos and a right hook that could make any grown man cry.

VIOLA

VIOLAUgh, I hate him! I hate him so much I want to scream until his ears bleed.

UghEvery time he’s near me, my body temperature rises. He knows how to get me fired up to the point where I want to lose my s**t all over him. One day during my freshman year, when he and Drew were juniors, I overheard a rumor about some of the crude jokes he was saying about me. I immediately saw red, already pissed about him asking one of my friends out during homeroom, so I walked toward him and tripped over my own feet, making my entire lunch tray land in his lap. It might not have been a complete accident, but nevertheless, he deserved it. Considering it was spaghetti and meatball day for lunch, he was pretty pissed at that little display of hatred.

But being the loyal sister that I am, I try to control myself. Try being the keyword.

Try“What are you two bickering about now?” Drew asks as I walk back to the couch, his eyes still glued to the TV screen as he works the game controller.

“About how his sexcapades better not disturb my sleep.” My last day of class is Friday and then I had planned on staying at Drew’s during spring break instead of going home, since campus will be shutting down this year. Something about budget cuts and not wanting to pay for the added security.

The corners of his lips perk up a little, but his eyes stay focused on whatever creature he’s aiming for. “Eh, you get used to it. Soon enough, it’s like calming music that puts you right to sleep.”

“Ew, that’s disgusting, Drew. Seriously. Have some standards.”

“I do! What do you want me to do? Tell him he can’t have girls over?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s your house too.”

“We each pay half the rent. I can’t do anything about what he does in his room or with who.”

I groan. “This is going to be the worst two weeks of my life.” Why does spring break have to be a whole week longer this year?

He pauses his game and finally turns toward me. “You could always go home and stay with Mom and Larry. Or go to Dad’s.”

I scowl. “I’d rather eat a rat.”

“Well, then suck it up, buttercup. Two weeks of manly bliss.” He winks and returns to his game.

I groan at the truth of his words and drop the subject.

My clothes finally finish up just after eleven p.m. The c***k of thunder and sound of the sudden downpour turn my attention to the window, making me sigh at the horrible luck.

“Great.”

“You can crash on the couch if you’d like,” Drew calls over to me from the kitchen. “I’m about to head in.”

“Already?”

“Yeah…I haven’t started packing.”

“For what?”

“For Mia’s.”

“Wait, what?” I whirl around to face him at the mention of his girlfriend, who attends college a couple of hours away. “You’re leaving?” It was the first I’d heard about it.

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you?” I shake my head furiously. “Using up a couple of weeks of my vacation while she’s on her spring break.”

My eyes widen in anger. “What? I’m going to be alone with Travis the entire time?”

What“Yeah. I swore I told you.”

“Does my face look like you told me?” I ask, loud and annoyed.

He shrugs. “Sorry. Thought I did.”

This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.

“So, I’m going to be stuck here alone with Travis?” I clarify.

alone“I guess. Maybe his dates can help keep you company,” he taunts. I grab a pillow from the couch and throw it at him from across the room.

“Not funny!”

He easily dodges it, pushing it away before it hits him. “I find myself pretty amusing.”

I groan and collapse on the couch with an exaggerated thud.

“If it helps, you can sleep in my bed. I’ll even put on clean sheets for you.” I hear the sarcasm in his voice.

“Gee, thanks. How accommodating,” I retort dryly.

“Anything for my baby sis!” he calls out before walking to his room. “Night!”

I grab the blanket off the floor and cover up, burning with rage knowing the next two weeks, I’m stuck in the same house as Travis King—#1 asshole and heartbreaker.

The rain slams against the roof and windows of the house, and I toss and turn for what feels like eternity. Finally, I fall asleep, although it’s restless.

The alarm on my phone goes off, and though it’s been hours, it feels like only minutes have passed. For a moment, I have to remember where I am. I blindly reach for my phone and open my eyes, only to see Travis standing close to the TV, shirtless with pajama pants sitting haphazardly on his hips. He’s not what I want to see first thing this morning. He quietly watches the news, turning his head to glare at me until I click the button to turn off one of the most annoying buzzing sounds in the world. I groan and roll over on my side, hoping he’ll go away, but when has he ever done anything I’ve wanted? Never. Last night I hoped I’d be able to grab my laundry and sneak home before class, not having to see him again until this weekend, but lady luck is obviously not on my side and neither is Mother Nature. Stupid rain.

“Did you have sweet dreams about me, Princess?” he asks, confidence dripping in his tone.

His words anger me, maybe a little more than they should, but he shouldn’t say s**t like that to me, especially in the morning before I’ve had any coffee. “That’d be a nightmare.”

He laughs, showing his perfectly straight teeth, and I linger on his plump bottom lip a little too long, which makes me even madder. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice. My nostrils flare, and I throw the blankets from my body and stand. My hands find my hips, and before I’m able to give him a earful, Drew walks into the living room and interrupts me.

“Please don’t kill each other while I’m gone.”

Travis looks over at him, and he loses his grip on reality for just a second. “Where are you going?” Travis glances at me, and his smile fades as he looks back at Drew.

“Mia’s, remember?”

“That’s this weekend?” I hear the same shocked tone in his voice that I had last night.

thisThe smile that fills my face is devious and to know this may have ruined whatever sexcapades he had planned makes me happy. Just me and Travis alone for two weeks—this can’t be good.

this can’t be good.“I guess you won’t be able to f**k on the couch like you planned,” I say, walking to my basket of clothes and picking them up.

He shoots me a daring look and then scoffs. “I’ll make sure to look you in the eye when I do,” he says, leering.

“Oh God. So that’s what throwing up in your own mouth tastes like. Wouldn’t have known until just now.” I give my brother a smile, and my face goes serious when I look back at Travis. He crosses his arms over his chest, and I know this means war.

I have a feeling the next two weeks will be pure hell with a devil named Travis supervising.