All Chapters of I Hate How Much I Want You: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Adrian’s POV The house felt too large and too quiet when I walked through the front doors after practice. Marble floors stretched under my feet and the usual staff moved around with practiced silence, collecting jackets and disappearing down side hallways before any conversation could start. I headed straight for the staircase, hoping to reach my room without interruption, but my father’s voice carried out from the study. “Adrian, come in here for a minute.” I changed direction and stepped into the room. He sat behind the wide oak desk with a folder open in front of him, glasses low on his nose. My mother occupied the chair near the window, spine straight, expression carefully neutral the way it always was when these conversations started. The air carried the faint scent of his cologne and old paper. “You placed first again today,” he said, glancing up. “That’s fine. I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t look good on paper. But we both know racing is still just a hobby. It isn’t

Adrian’s POVClaire was still watching me when I locked the phone. Her smile stayed polite but her eyes had sharpened.“Well?” she asked. “Who keeps pulling your attention away from the room?”“No one important,” I said.“It looked important. You were smiling at the screen.”“I smile at a lot of things.”She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Your father is watching us. He’ll expect you to spend the rest of the evening with me. You know that, right?”I glanced past her. My father stood near the far windows with Claire’s father, both of them looking in our direction. The disapproval on my father’s face was clear even from across the room. He wanted a performance. He wanted me focused on Claire and nothing else.Claire touched my arm. “Come on. One more conversation with them and then we can find somewhere quieter. You’ve barely spoken to me tonight.”“I’ve spoken enough.”“You’re in a strange mood.” She kept her hand on my arm. “Is something going on? You’ve been distracted since y

Elias’s POVAdrian would not wake up.I shook his shoulder harder than I should have. “Adrian. Hey. Open your eyes.”Nothing.“Adrian, come on. Look at me.” My voice cracked. I pressed two fingers to his neck and felt a pulse, but his head stayed limp against the pavement. “Don’t do this. Wake up.”My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the phone. I dialed and spoke the second the operator answered.“I need an ambulance. Someone’s unconscious. A car nearly hit us. He’s not responding.”“Sir, can you confirm the location?”I gave the street name twice, speaking too fast. “Please hurry. He’s bleeding a little from the head. He’s breathing but he won’t wake up. I can’t get him to open his eyes.”“Stay on the line. Help is on the way. Is the area safe?”“Yes. Just get someone here.”I kept one hand on Adrian’s chest. “Adrian, can you hear me? Squeeze my hand or something. Anything. Come on.”Still nothing. The wait felt endless. Every second without a response made the fear climb higher

Adrian’s POVMarcus didn’t move.He stood there with his hand still half-raised toward Elias’s neck, like he was waiting for permission that wasn’t coming. The other two kept talking about lap times and the coach’s latest rant, but their voices had already faded into background noise. All I could hear was the quiet drag of Elias’s breathing and the low, steady thrum of the machines beside the bed.“Just looking out for him,” Marcus said. “You’re the one in the bed. Someone should make sure he’s okay.”Elias’s fingers were still pressed to the mark above his collarbone. The flush on his face hadn’t faded. He looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him, and for half a second I almost felt bad. Almost.“I’m fine,” Elias said again, quieter. “Really.”Marcus nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.One of the other guys—Davis—clapped Marcus on the shoulder. “Come on, man. Let them rest. Coach already said we can come back later.”“Yeah,” he said. “Later.”They filed out. Davis

Adrian’s POVI waited in the hallway like an idiot, still feeling where his arms had been around my waist, still dumb enough to think that hug was heading somewhere. Elias wiped his face, looked at me like I’d asked him for a prize, and pointed at the sofa with the same hand he’d just used to hold me.“You’re sleeping on the couch,” he said.“That’s it? After that?”“That’s it. My mom’s at a late doctor’s appointment, and I’m not explaining to her why you’re in my bedroom when she gets home. There’s a blanket right there. Sleep. Tomorrow we go to lectures and act normal.”“You hugged me like you were drowning.”“And now I’m telling you where to sleep. Don’t make me say it twice.”He went down the hall and shut his door. I sat in the dark with the blanket over my knees, listening to the apartment creak, waiting for a footstep that never came. No kiss, no change of heart, nobody coming back to check on me. Only the couch and the leftover warmth of a hug he had already decided didn’t cou