Page 117 of The Way I Hate Him
“Sure thing,” he says as Hayes walks away.
“Put me down, you anus!” I yell. “People are going to see up my skirt. Hey, what are you looking at?” I say to an old lady I’ve never seen before, most likely a tourist. “Keep your eyes to yourself.”
“Hattie, please,” Hayes says, working us through the bar.
“And you didn’t want to draw attention. You carrying me like a sack of vodka potatoes isn’t going to lessen the staring. Look, there’s Ethel. Ethel, yoo-hoo,” I say, waving my hand. “Yup, this is happening. This right here is happening. Sound the sirens. Alert the press. Hayes Farrow is touching Hattie Rowley. Weeee-oooo, weee-ooooo.”
“Shut the fuck up, Hattie,” Hayes says just as he pushes through the door of the saloon and walks me down the street.
“Unhand me, you monster,” I say, scratching at his back.
He doesn’t say anything but walks me across the street and behind the back of The Almond Store. It’s nearly pitch-black besides the streetlights lining the boardwalks. The town is silent, the only establishment open being the bar.
“This is ridiculous,” I say. “You’re treating me like a child.”
“Because you’re acting like one,” he says as he reaches the back of The Almond Store. “What’s the pin code to get in?”
“As if I’d tell you that. Turn me around, and I’ll plug it in.” He spins so I face the pin code, and I plug in the number, unlocking the door.
He pushes through and then with ease, climbs up the steps that lead to my apartment. When he jiggles the doorknob and it opens, he grumbles under his breath. “You don’t lock this?”
“We lock the store. What’s the point?”
He steps into the apartment and finally sets me down. I stumble backward for a second, but he catches me and rights me on my feet before I take a spill. Once steady, I slap his hands away and push down my dress, holding my chin high.
“How dare you manhandle me like that?”
“A thank-you would suffice.”
“I would never,” I reply as I catch him looking around my space. “Stop observing my room.”
“It’s small in here.”
“I know,” I say. “But I don’t need much. Not all of us need mansions like you, Hayes.”
I walk over to my dresser and pull out an oversized shirt, only to stumble against the dresser and crush my finger in the drawer. “Motherfucker!” I yell as I hold my finger with my other hand. “Oh fuck, that hurt.” I stumble to the ground, unable to keep my wits about me, and Hayes is quickly at my side, taking my finger into his hand.
“You okay?” he asks, examining it.
“No,” I say as I slouch on the floor. “I hurt my finger.”
“I can see that,” he says softly. “Do you want some ice?”
“No. I want to change and get ready for bed.”
“Do you need help?”
I shake my head, my anger dissipating as he holds my finger, the throbbing starting to settle. It takes me a few seconds, but I finally say, “That’s better.”
“Good.” He stands from the floor and pulls me up with him. He hands me my shirt, and I hold it close to my chest. “Sooo, are you going to change?”
“Yes,” I answer but don’t move.
“Do you want me to do it for you?”
I shake my head but still don’t move.
He bends at the knees to look me in the eyes. “You’re not moving, Hattie.”
