Page 144 of The Way I Hate Him
“Nothing fancy,” he says. “But you know . . . if you want to wear a dress like you wore when you were at Sozzled, I won’t be mad about it.”
“Ooo, you liked that, did you?”
He nods, the sultriness in his eyes making me feel all warm inside. “I did. You looked really pretty.”
Really pretty.
Can’t tell you the last time someone said that to me. Matt never doled out any compliments.
Head tilted down, I quietly say, “Thank you.”
His finger lifts my chin as he says, “You know, you blush a lot. It makes me think you’re shy around me.”
“I wouldn’t say shy.” He releases me as I wipe my fingers on my napkin and pick up my Diet Coke to take a sip. “But you know . . . I’ve never been spoken to how you speak to me. You’re honest—well, when you’re not trying to push me away—”
“Not because I wanted to,” he adds.
“I know. But you’re honest. You say what’s on your mind, and before, with Matt or any other guy I’ve dated, they weren’t particularly vocal about my looks. They rarely complimented me. Not that I needed them to survive, but it’s always nice to hear every once in a while. So yeah, I might blush because I’m not used to someone telling me I’m pretty or that they liked my dress.” I shrug, feeling awkward.
His brow pulls together. “Thoseboysyou were with before clearly didn’t know how to treat you the way you deserve. Their loss, my gain.”
And that’s the kind of answer I’d expect from Hayes. He’s passionate and possessive, everything Matt was not. I know this will be different. I have a feeling that being with Hayes will be unprecedented, and I’m excited to see where it goes.
“What about you?” I ask as he picks a pepperoni off his pizza and plops it in his mouth. “What kind of women have you dated?”
“Not many,” he answers and leaves it at that.
“Is that all you’re going to say, or will you be honest with me?”
“Do you want me to tell you the truth?”
“I do. The more I know, the better.” I’ve seen the tabloids, and I’m actually hoping he tells me it hasn’t been as...lurid as that.
He leans his hip on the counter and wipes his mouth with his napkin before tossing it next to his plate. “Had a girlfriend back in high school. You were probably too young to even know who it was, but she was my first for pretty much everything besides a kiss.”
“Who was it?”
“Flavia Gotchen. Did you know her?”
“Nope.”
He chuckles. “Didn’t think so. But yeah, we were each other’s first everything. We fumbled a lot, but we also learned. She broke up with me when we were seniors because I cheated on her.”
“What?” I ask, surprised by this information.
“Listen, I’m not proud of it. It was the one and only time I’ve ever cheated. I learned my lesson quickly after her brother nearly beat me to death. I apologized to her multiple times, but the damage was done. I still remember the look on her face when I told her I cheated. If it wasn’t for her brother’s fists, her expression of utter defeat would have prevented me from ever doing that again.”
“And you haven’t?”
He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t. I’ve also never been in a serious relationship. You might have seen love connections in the media throughout the years, but that was all press. Nothing serious. I got into drugs, alcohol, and fucked a lot of roadies.”
My nose curls up from his confession. I know I asked for the truth, but I wasn’t ready to hear that. His sordid past is out there for everyone to know. He’s done his fair share of drugs—he even admitted to it when we were baking—and it doesn’t take a genius to realize he probably has a lot of sex on the road. But it still doesn’t make his confession any less impactful in my head.
“Want me to stop?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. I asked for the truth. I’d rather hear it from you than someone else.”
He nods and folds his arms across his chest. “There was a brief relationship, and I mean brief, with a girl who used to open for me on tour, but it was short-lived because I quickly found out . . . she had a boyfriend back home. I ended it immediately. Like I said, I cheated once. I was never going to be involved in it again.”
