Page 30 of P.S. I Hate You

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I look up at Troy. “HGH?”

Jarett answers first. “Human growth hormones. Word is, the coach feeds Wilder full of ’em. That’s how he stays undefeated.”

“And hot,” Cora chimes in, and the other two girls giggle.

“Yeah, if you’re into poor rednecks,” Pete adds with a laugh, but I find nothing about this conversation amusing.

I cross my arms, holding my cup against my chest. I should do something about this information, but what? Should I confronthim about it? Say something to Cindy? I’m not exactly a fan of Jace Wilder, but that doesn’t mean I want to see him endanger himself.

“Speak of the fuckin’ devil,” Ben mumbles.

We all turn toward the direction of his stare. A gasp rattles in my throat. Jace’s pickup careens into an opening on the other side of the clearing, followed by another, then another. One by one, they all appear, Hell's Bend kids tumbling down from dusty cabs, cranking wild rock and roll over the sound of smooth country.

Adrenaline courses through my blood. I step behind the wall of Troy’s friends, hoping to go unseen, but it’s too late. I feel his gaze through the fire, so hot I swear it burns. We lock eyes, but I look away first. “We should go.”

Troy gives my hand a squeeze. “It’ll be alright. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah,” Pete says. “Long as they stay on their side where they belong.”

Yeah, except this is notThe Outsidersand I’m not Cherry Valance. These groups may be oil and water, but I’m the one who has to pay the price. While they get to go back to their quiet lives on the edge of town, I’m the one tormented day in and day out with no reprieve.

I take a strong sip of my beer and swallow it down, a little liquid courage to get me through the night. It isn’t long before I find myself holding an empty cup. Troy gets me a refill, then another. Fingertips numb, my head light, I allow my worries to evaporate into the air like the smoke from Jace’s cigarettes.

The humid night prickles my skin. I lean forward, letting my hair waterfall down to twist it into a knot atop my head. A cold trickle hits my back. I snap to attention, my gaze darting around the surrounding area. The blurred view of my safety net looks farther away than it should. My pulse picks up to the deafening beat of loud rock music. I hear the blood in my veins pump hardand fast. I somehow crossed over to the other side, toeing the line between security and certain death, and they pounced the moment I breached.

Beer drips into my shorts, but I reel back my urge to punch Darla’s ugly face into meat. I’m surrounded by her friends, one of me versus all of them. “I’m not looking for trouble tonight. Why don’t we just go back to our sides and stay away from each other?”

“You hear that, guys? Barbie’s not looking for trouble,” she whines, stomping her foot in a mock tantrum.

My gaze travels to Jace, silently begging him to step in and save me, but he merely takes a pull off his cigarette, watching me quiver in fear. A puppet master pulling Darla’s strings for his own amusement. “What is your problem with me? You worried I’m competition for you?”

Callous laughter ripples around me, but Darla’s lips quiver with rage. She throws a bottle blond curl over her shoulder in a huff. “Competition? Please.”

“I’ve done nothing to warrant this kind of hatred from you. If you got to know me —“

“I don’t want to get to know you, bitch!” Her voice echoes, then suddenly, I’m on the ground.

Hands tear at my hair as my back is dragged against the hard dirt. I kick my legs, holding my skull to keep from being scalped. My foot makes contact with something. I hear a grunt, then a thud, but my fight-or-flight response doesn’t take a minute to survey the damage. I scramble to my feet and run.

Troy’s voice echoes after me, but the adrenaline pumping in my veins propels me forward. I don’t care about anything else right now. All I want to do is get away.

But a strong hand pulls me back. I twist on my heel, jamming the butt of my palm into my assailant's nose. Once I’ve blinked the fog from my brain, I realize what I’ve done. “Oh my gosh.”

Troy doubles over. I lift my arms to comfort him, but he shrugs me off. “What the fuck, Ellie?”

“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“I followed you out here to make sure you were okay.” He stares at his fingers to make sure there’s no blood. “You obviously can handle yourself.”

My anxiety melts away, and embarrassment blooms in its place. I press my hands to his cheeks. “Are you alright?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you?”

I nod, but tears brim in my eyes like an unstoppable force. They breach the dam and pour down my face. The more I wipe, the more appear. “Except I hate it here, and I want to go home.”

Troy’s expression softens. “I’m sorry. I know, it’s been a lot for you.”

Twigs crunch under my feet as I turn away. “No, you don’t know. You have no idea. They torture me. I’m a target for all the vitriol they spew. I want to be strong. I try to rise above, but look at me.” I pull what’s left of the knot from my hair and smooth it down. “I’m not strong enough to withstand this kind of hate.”


Tags: Jane Anthony Romance