Page 2 of Fueled Hate

Taking a few steps closer to me, his eyes drop to my hand that’s clutching the hard metal of the wrench. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“My dad’s a mechanic and owns an auto shop. I’ve done it a million times. Could do it with my eyes closed.” Not that I’d had a choice, but I’m more than grateful for every skill my dad has taught me.

“Ah. I wouldn’t mind watching that.” He cocks his head to the side, his eyes trailing over my soaked cotton dress. I’m suddenly concerned it’s clinging to skin in all the wrong places, but he looks back up to my face. “I’ll just hang out in my car while you work your magic. You never know what lunatic is lurking in the shadows.”

“Or in plain sight,” I retort, furthering his amusement, which was not my intention.

“Touché.” Slowly walking backwards, he makes his way to his car. He opens the door, drops into the driver’s seat, and closes the door.

After a few seconds, I realize he really is going to sit in his car and watch me change the stupid tire. Fantastic. Even though I can’t see him past the bright headlights, I feel his eyes on me.

Fine. At least he’s in his car, and I want to ensure he stays there, so I watch from the corner of my eye, taking a few quick glances in that direction as I loosen the lug nuts on the tire before placing the jack under the frame and lifting it up until it’s a few inches off the ground. I’ve always made a point to wear shorts under my dresses, and I couldn’t be more thankful at the moment as I stoop down, undoing the lug nuts with my ass facing the road in the opposite direction of the nuisance watching me from his car.

When all the lug nuts are removed, I pull the flat tire off, not spotting anything obviously wrong with it, but I don’t take more than a second to look at it as I lay it flat on the ground. Quickly rolling the spare in place, I lift it swiftly and slide it onto the wheel studs. Screwing the lug nuts loosely back on, I tighten them enough to hold them in place before releasing the jack, bringing the tire back to the pavement. I quickly secure the lug nuts, failing all the while at my useless attempt to refrain from glancing in the direction of the lurking idiot.

Yes, he may’ve had good intentions when he stopped, but this would’ve sucked less without an audience. Hurriedly, I roll the flat tire behind the car, lift it (with my legs and not my back, like Dad taught me), and drop it into the trunk before throwing the metal lug wrench on top of it, metal clacking. Slamming the trunk, I hustle into the driver’s seat and lock the door as soon as I pull it closed. My fingers grip the steering wheel as I glance in the rearview mirror. His headlights still aren’t moving. If nothing else, he’s persistent.

Cranking the ignition, I shut off the hazard lights, and steer back onto the road. I watch his headlights fade to dots as he stays parked on side of the road. It’s a relief watching his headlights disappear from view until I hear his voice in my head, talking about evil lurking in the shadows. A chill goes through my body, and I reach over to shut off the AC even though it has nothing to do with the sinister feeling floating through me. Turning on the radio, I do my best to drown out my thoughts as I drive the remaining distance to my apartment. I’ll worry about having the flat tire repaired or replaced later. There’s no rush since my dad made sure I knew to always have a full-size tire for backup. He worried the donut tire wouldn’t be enough if I was on the road, so this way, I can drive on it as long as I need to. Still … I’ll have the tire repaired or replaced tomorrow after class. Tonight, I’m done with all of it.

Parking in my usual spot, I grab my purse and to-go carton and walk to the apartment, not worried about the rain since I’m already completely soaked. Unlocking the apartment door, I step inside, slamming it behind me before I turn to lock it.

“Hey, you okay?” Willow asks as I turn to look at my roommate eyeing me from the kitchen.

“Oh yeah.” I walk to the counter separating the kitchen and living room, placing my purse and food down.

“Um. How was the anniversary date?” Willow asks cautiously.

There’s no use hiding it, but I hope the lecture this go-round won’t last as long as usual. “Kyle didn’t show.”

“Sadie.” Willow’s pity is even worse than a lecture because it means I’ve reached a really pathetic relationship status.

“Yeah. I know. The highlight was a flat tire on the way home though.” I attempt to joke but it falls flat, no pun intended.

She gives me a sympathetic look. “Are you really okay?”

“Yep. Just gonna take a quick shower. Jett came through with supper if you want some.” I push the carton her way before walking towards my room.

“Thanks, but I’m going to bed. Remind me why I signed up for a 7 a.m. class?”

“Because we have good intentions until the first day of classes roll around. It’s not too late to switch out.”

“I’ll let you know that decision at 7 a.m. tomorrow.”

I laugh while walking into my room. For sure, Willow will decide way before 7 a.m. to switch out of the class. I have no doubt. One of the many reasons we’ve worked so well as roommates is because we’re both night owls. I’d been beyond nervous to move into the dorms last summer as a freshman. Not knowing who I’d be rooming with, I scored the jackpot when Willow walked in. This school year, Willow and I found an affordable apartment just off campus to share. Kyle had been less than thrilled with the decision, but tonight just reminds me why I didn’t want to move in with him.

Once inside my bedroom, I close the door behind me, reach for the hem of my dress, and pull it over my head as I step into the bathroom. Another perk of the fabulous apartment—no sharing bathrooms since the two-bedroom floor plan included en suites in both rooms. It’s the first time I’ve ever had a bathroom to myself and haven’t had to share with my roommate or brother.

Dropping the saturated dress into the sink, I avoid my reflection in the mirror. I already know I’m a disaster, I don’t need to see it firsthand. I strip off my bra and panties, cursing the matching set I’d purposely selected for a completely different anniversary ending. It hadn’t exactly thrilled me, the thought of another humdrum evening in bed with Kyle, but I figured I’d put some effort into it. Is it always going to be like this? Feel like this? Shouldn’t the thought of the date ending well and falling into bed together be sort of exciting? Kyle is the only guy I’ve ever slept with, and sometimes I think it’s the idea of him being my first love that I cling to more than anything. Especially the sweet, kind, caring kid who won over my mom’s heart. Happy memories of Kyle and my mom baking my eighteenth birthday cake immediately pop into my mind.

Twisting the faucet, I adjust the temperature just in time to step under the water, the stream spraying against my face as tears fall. It’s been almost two years since the phone call that turned my world upside down, and the feelings are still as raw as they were that night. It’s supposed to get easier as time passes. When will it get easier?

2

Sadie

Not much has changed since I’d walked across the courtyard last year on the first day of classes, but somehow, the start of this semester feels different. Last year, I was a ball of nerves. This year, I’m too exhausted to be nervous. After showering last night, I’d eaten and gone to bed, hoping to wake up refreshed for the first day of classes. That plan crashed and burned miserably as I laid in bed staring at my ceiling for the majority of the night. My phone conspicuously silent, being that I’d been stood up for our anniversary date. It should probably bother me more than it does, but I was glad to be left alone for the night and not fed whatever bullshit excuse Kyle has planned.

“Sadie!” Willow calls as she jogs up beside me, looping her arm in mine. “Finally, a familiar face.”