Hating You is Exhausting

He bumps into me like he owns the place.

 I feel the shock in my shoulder before I hear his words.

 Sharp.  Cold.  Familiar in a way that irritates something deep inside my chest.

 “Watch it,” he mutters.

 I turn.  And there he is.

 Liam Carrington.

 His face hasn’t changed muchstill sharp edges, still those stormy eyes, still that arrogant calm that makes people either want him or want to hit him.

 Three years of quiet, and he still looks at me like I’m the reason the world annoys him.

 I force a flat tone.  “You walked into me.”

 He stares.  The stare that always meant fight me or kiss me, and I still can’t tell the difference.

 “You’re blocking the walkway,” he says.

 “And you’re still rude,” I shot back.

 His jaw tightens.  “Some things don’t change.”

 I hate that my pulse responds before my brain does.

 He’s in a fitting black suit, shirt unbuttoned at the top like he didn’t even try.  His hair is slicked back in that careless way that makes him look expensive.  And I wish I didn’t notice.

 I wish I didn’t remember the yard.

 The wedding.

 The almost-kiss we never talk about.

 I break eye contact first.  “Enjoy the charity event.  Try not to ruin anything.”

 “Funny,” he says.  “I was about to tell you the same.”

 The dance noise swallows us again, but my body won’t calm down.

 I grab a drink from a passing tray.  I don’t even like champagne, but I need something to hold that isn’t his attention.

 My mind spins.

 I shouldn’t have come.

 Mom insisted.  My stepfather, too.  “It’ll be good for the family,” they said.  “Bring everyone together before the anniversary trip.”

 Right.

 Together.

 I take a sip.

 Weak.  Too sweet.

 Like every fake smile in this room.

 “Nico?”

 I jumped a little.  It’s my stepfather’s sister, Marlene.  Always nosy.  Always too observant.

 She leans closer.  “You two are still not speaking?”

 I freeze.  “What?”

 She nods toward where Liam stands near the silent auction table, looking like he’s judging everything around him.

 “You and Liam,” she says.  “You used to be close.”

 My chest tightens.  “We were never close.”

 She gives me a long look.  “That’s not what it looked like at the wedding.”

 My stomach flips.  “Don’t”

 “I saw you two sneak off into the garden,” she whispers.  “Teenagers are obvious.”

 Heat fills my face.  “Marlene, drop it.”

 She smirks like she knows exactly what she shouldn’t know, pats my arm, and walks off.

 I swear under my breath.

 If she remembered the yard, what else did she notice?

 I drink the rest of the champagne in one swallow.

 I try to escape to the silent hall, but Liam appears again, cutting me off like he planned it.

 “Why do you look mad?” he asks.

 “You know why.”

 “Do I?”

 His tone is low.  Dangerous.

 I feel it in my back.

 “You didn’t have to tell Marlene anything,” I snapped.

 He frowns.  “I didn’t tell her anything.”

 “Someone did.”

 “Not me.”

 “Right.”

 His eyes darken.  “You really think I go around talking about the worst night of my life?”

 I freeze.

 Worst night?

 He steps closer.  Too close.

 “You think I wanted any of that?” he says.  “You think I planned”

 “You kissed me,” I blurt.

 The words slap both of us.

 He flinches.  “No.  I almost kissed you.”

 “Same thing.”

 He shakes his head.  “It isn’t.”

 His voice is raspy.  Like he hates remembering it.

 Like he hates that it happened at all.

 Good.

 I hate remembering it too.

 Except I don’t.

 Not really.

 I remember his breath, warm against my mouth.

 His hand held my waist like he was afraid I’d disappear.

 The way he pulled back when someone shouted his name.

 The way he dodged me for three years afterward.

 “It doesn’t matter,” I say.

 His eyes flicker.  “Doesn’t it?”

 I look away.

A donor approaches him.  “Liam, darling!  Still breaking hearts?”

 He gives a stiff smile.  “Something like that.”

 The giver laughs and disappears into the crowd.

 Liam runs a hand through his hair.

 Then he looks at me again.  “Why did you really come tonight?”

 “My parents asked me.”

 “That’s not an answer.”

 I laugh.  “You don’t get to demand answers from me.”

 “I wasn’t demanding.”

 “You always demand.”

 “And you always run,” he says.

 I stiffen.  “Run?”

 “You’re doing it right now.”

 I push past him.  “I’m going home.”

 He grabs my wrist.

 Not hard.

 Not rough.

 Just… hard.  Too hard.

 His fingers burn through my skin.

 “Nico,” he says softly.  “I wasn’t trying to fight.”

 I swallow.  “Then let go.”

 He doesn’t.

 For a heartbeat too long, he stays still, as if considering something inside himself.

 Then his grip loosens, but his thumb brushes my wrist before he pulls away.

 The smallest touch.

 The biggest mistake.

 Because it shoots through me like a warning and a memory at the same time.

 I walk toward the exit.  I don’t get far.

 “Hey!” someone calls.  I turn.

 It’s Jonah Vega.  A close friend.  Older than me.  Confidence.  Charming.

 He walks over, smiling kindly.  “You look like you need rescue.”

 I relax.  “You have no idea.”

 He laughs.  “I’m offering conversation, not therapy.”

 “You might regret that.”

 “Try me.”

 For a moment, talking to Jonah feels easy.  Safe.

 He jokes.  I laugh back.

 I almost forget Liam exists.

 Until his voice cuts through from behind us.

 “Jonah.”

 Jonah turns.  “Liam.  It's been a long time.”

 “Not long enough,” Liam mutters.

 Jonah raises a brow.  “Still pleasant as ever.”

 Liam’s eyes shift to my hand, where Jonah is still lightly touching my elbow.

 Something sharp flickers across his face.  Something ugly.

 “Let go,” Liam says.

 Jonah laughs.  “Excuse me?”

 Liam steps closer.  “I said let go.”

 “Liam,” I warn.

 He ignores me.  “He doesn’t like being touched.”

 Jonah looks confused.  “Since when?”

 “Since always,” Liam snaps.

 I yank my arm from Jonah gently.  “I can speak for myself.”

 Liam’s jaw works, but he steps back.

 Jonah leans close and says, “Is he always like this?”

 “Only with me,” I say.

 Liam hears it.  I know he does.

 His eyes flare with something like hurt, quickly replaced by anger.

 “I’m not doing this tonight,” Liam says.  “Not with him.”

 He turns and walks away.

 Jonah whistles.  “Wow.  You two really hate each other.”

 I force a smile.  “Something like that.”

 “You want to get out of here?  Get food?”

 I hesitate.  It’s tempting.  Very tempting.

 But before I answer, I feel a stare burning into the back of my neck.

 I don’t have to turn to know whose.

 I sigh.  “Maybe another night.”

 Jonah nods.  “Okay.  But promise me something.”

 “What?”

 “Don’t let him ruin your night.”

 I smile, small.  “Too late.”

 I head for the terrace to breathe.

 My thoughts are a mess, all jumbled and sharp.

 Why is he behaving like this?

 Why am I responding like this?

 I grip the bar and close my eyes.

 Behind me, someone says, “So.  Jonah Vega, huh?”

 I don’t turn.  “What do you want, Liam?”

 “Answer the question.”

 “No.”

 He steps beside me.  “You like him?”

 “Why do you care?”

 He’s quiet for too long.

 It makes me nervous.

 Finally, he says, “He’s wrong for you.”

 I laugh sharply.  “Oh, and you’re the expert on what I need?”

 “No,” he says softly.  “But I’m the expert on what hurts you.”

 My throat tightens.  “Don’t pretend you’ve ever protected me.”

 He looks at me like I just stabbed him.  “You really think that?”

 “You ignored me for three years.”

 “Because I had to.”

 “You didn’t have to do anything.”

 “You don’t know what I was dealing with.”

 “Then tell me.”

 He opens his mouth.  Close it.

 Runs a hand through his hair again.

 “I can’t,” he whispers.

 “Of course you can’t.”

 “Nico”

 “I’m done talking.”

 I move to leave.  He blocks my way.

 “One second,” he says.  “Please.”

 The word freezes me.

 Please.

 Liam never says please.

 I face him.  “What?”

 His voice drops to a whisper.  “Stop looking at me like that.”

 I blink.  “Like what?”

 He leans close, breath brushing my cheek.  “Like you want to remember the garden.”

 My heart stops.

 I didn’t know I was looking.

 I didn’t know he noticed.

 I didn’t know he remembered that night differently.

 But before I can respond before I can breathe he says the words that tear through me:

 “You can’t look at me like that.  Not anymore.”

 And the chapter ends with air stuck in my lungs.

 He steps closer, eyes dark and shaky, and says, “Stop looking at me like that.”

 Only then do I understand I wasn’t hiding a damn thing.