Love to Hate You: An Enemies-to-Lovers New Adult College Sports Romance
Love to Hate You: Chapter 28

At a loss, I watch Carter head for the door without a second glance at me. All within two minutes of receiving a text.

Who the hell was it from?

I’ve never seen him jump like that. I look at my cousin and try to get a read on his thoughts, but his gaze remains fixed on the television screen.

The three of us watching the game on a Sunday afternoon is our thing. We’ve been doing it since freshman year. Even when I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with Carter, it was still what we did.

Doesn’t Noah think Carter’s behavior was strange? We’re in the middle of the game and he just got up and took off. But Noah hasn’t commented on it.

I clear my throat and jerk my thumb toward the apartment door. “What’s up with that?”

Noah glances at me and then goes back to watching the screen. “How should I know?”

I nibble my lip not wanting to ask.

I’m able to hold the question in for about two minutes before it bursts free. “Who do you think the text was from?”

“Dunno.” He shrugs.

I’m tempted to throw something at his head. This is like pulling teeth. Actually, that would probably be easier.

With my foot bouncing, I stare at the TV screen. But the game no longer holds my interest. A possible explanation flits into my head. Once it does, there’s no dismissing it.

Carter must be seeing someone. Maybe it’s not a bone fide girlfriend since I’ve never seen him get serious with anyone. But it’s entirely possible that he has a piece on the side.

I mean, it’s not like we sat down and defined our relationship—and yes, I’m using that term loosely—but I’m certainly not going to sleep with a guy who’s screwing around with other girls. Obviously, I didn’t make that clear from the onset.

What else could have him moving like that?

My mind remains frustratingly blank.

I blurt, “Is Carter seeing someone? Is that why he took off?”

“Hell, no.” Noah snorts like I just asked the stupidest question ever. “Why would he do something like that before heading off to the NFL? That guy has zero interest in being tied down, and who can blame him? He gets more pussy than anyone else I know.”

His words are like a physical blow to my gut. Pain like I’ve never experienced explodes through my body. The breath catches at the back of my throat as I stare sightlessly at the TV.

“Carter’s a player,” he continues, unaware of my mental anguish. “He’s always been a player. That’s not going to change anytime soon.” Noah takes a swig from his water bottle.

My eyes remain glued to the action on the screen, but I couldn’t tell you if the Titans have held onto their lead.

It takes a moment to realize that if I didn’t care about Carter on some level, I wouldn’t be this upset. Noah isn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. Carter is a player. He’s been a manwhore since I’ve known him. I’ve seen a fair number of girls traipse from his room in the morning looking well sated.

Why did I think sleeping with him was a good idea?

“Daisy?”

I blink and focus on my cousin who is staring at me with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah?” I make a concerted effort to wipe the misery from my expression. The last thing I need is for Noah to ferret out the truth.

His attention shifts to me. “What’s going on?”

A moment ago, that’s exactly what I wanted. Now, not so much.

“What do you mean?” I swallow past the lump in my throat and push all the emotion down where I can’t focus on it.

“You have a strange look on your face.” He pauses as if picking through my expression with more care. Noah knows me better than almost anyone. “Like you’re going to be sick or something.”

I shake my head and flatten a hand over my tummy. “The pizza’s not sitting well, that’s all. I ate too much.”

He grunts.

I hold my breath and wait to see if he’ll ask any more questions. After about thirty seconds of scrutiny, his gaze bounces back to the game. A time out has been called and programming has switched to a commercial.

“Can I ask you a serious question?” His voice drops as he shifts on the couch. “And I want you to be honest with me.”

I send up a quick prayer and hope this has nothing to do with my sneaking around. I hate lying to Noah, but there’s no point in coming clean when I might be ending things with Carter.

My muscles tense. “Sure.”

“Do you like Ashley?”

The air rushes from my lungs until I feel light headed. I was so prepared for the worst, that I almost release a gurgle of relieved laughter. Just as that’s about to happen, I rein it in.

Noah wears a solemn expression which is at odds with his usual demeanor.

“Ummm,” I stall and gather my thoughts.

Of course, I don’t like Ashley. She’s done nothing to endear herself to me. In fact, it’s been the opposite. But still, I don’t necessarily want to disclose that.

Instead of answering his question, I deflect. “Why are you asking?”

“I don’t know.” He lifts his shoulders. “Just wondering.”

His gaze resettles on the game. The clock is running. I’m surprised when he says, “You don’t seem like a fan.”

I nibble my lip and wonder how to handle the situation. “Does it matter what I think?”

“Kind of.”

“Why?” As much as it pains me to say this… “In the end, it doesn’t matter what I think. It only matters how you feel about her.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “You probably haven’t noticed, but Ashley has a few annoying qualities that are starting to get on my nerves.”

I almost choke.

Um, dude, I noticed from day one. I just never said anything.

“What specific qualities are you referring to?” I ask.

I could easily tick off at least five from the top of my head. Probably more.

He sits up, his elbows going to his knees. “Well, you saw what just happened, right?”

Yup, it was kind of hard to miss.

“She seems picky about her food,” I say, attempting to tread carefully.

“It’s not even that. It’s more that she expects me to jump the moment she says the word.” He pauses. “You know, I wouldn’t have minded running out and exchanging the salad, but her attitude pissed me off.”

Noah is a good boyfriend. And I’m not just saying that because he’s my cousin and I love him to death. He’s dated other girls before Ashley and always treated them well. He’s not one of these jocks who’s looking to bang as many chicks as possible. He’s a relationship guy. I can’t blame him for wanting to be treated with respect.

It’s unfortunate that Ashley doesn’t treat him the way she should.

“But it’s always been like that,” I admit. “When you two started going out, you spent a lot of time catering to her, so…” I shrug as if the rest is obvious. “Can you blame her for not continuing to expect it?”

“You’re right, I did.” Noah’s lips flatten. “But I’m tired of her expecting so much from me and not getting anything in return. I guess it took me a while to realize how self-centered she can be. Now that I do, it really irks me.”

This probably makes me a bad person, but part of me wants to leap off the chair and do a victory dance that Noah has finally opened his eyes to his girlfriend’s behavior. As difficult as it is, I refrain. He might be bothered that Ashley stormed out of here, but that doesn’t mean they’ll break up anytime soon. For the time being, I need to remain neutral. If I express my true feelings and they hash out their problems, then I look like the bad guy who never wanted them together in the first place.

As much as I’m dying to tell him to dump Ashley’s skinny ass, I say instead, “It sounds like you need to talk to Ashley and get all this out in the open.” I’m tempted to pat myself on the back for handling this conversation so maturely.

Olivia would be proud.

“Yeah, maybe.” He drags a hand over his face. “But first I’m going to give her some time to cool off.” His voice hardens. “If things don’t change, this isn’t going to work out between us. I’ve got too much on my plate with law school coming up. The last thing I need is this immature bullshit weighing me down.”

Just as he drops that bomb, cheers erupt from the television.

Noah and I snap our heads toward the screen to see that the Titans have scored a touchdown while we weren’t looking. The heaviness of our previous conversation is forgotten as matching grins erupt on our faces and we jump up, pumping our fists in the air.