Page 59 of Hate You Always


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She rips her gaze away and pops to her feet before pointing to the bar. “I’m, ah, going to get a bottle of water. After that, I’m super thirsty.”

I force my muscles to relax against the chair. “Okay.”

Mid-flight, she pauses. “Do you want another drink?”

I bring the bottle to my lips and take a sip. “Nope, I’m good.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” With that, she takes off through the crowd.

“And I’ll be here waiting,” I mumble under my breath. My attention stays locked on her as more people offer their congratulations.

When I finally force my gaze away, it collides with Maverick’s narrowed one.

There’s not a single doubt in my mind that he’ll have questions.

Ones I don’t necessarily want to answer.

CHAPTER19

JULIETTE

With the back of my head resting against the cushion of Ryder’s pickup, I close my eyes and hum ‘Bring Me to Life’ under my breath. Never in a million years would I have suspected that being on stage would be such a rush. Even now, hours later, adrenalin continues to pump wildly through my veins.

There’s no way I would have been brave enough to attempt karaoke if Ryder hadn’t forced me up there. After I’d stumbled onto the makeshift stage, my gaze had coasted over the drunken crowd, and for a second or two, I’d grown a little lightheaded and thought I might pass out.

How embarrassing would that have been?

I’d never be able to show my face around campus again.

The only thing that kept me frozen in place was the knowledge that I wasn’t alone. That Ryder was up there with me. I figured everyone would stare at him anyway.

Especially the girls.

But the guys as well.

People just seem to naturally gravitate to him. He’s always been popular. Even when he wasn’t trying to be.

Once the familiar tune started to play, everything inside me loosened. At first, I’d watched the screen and the lyrics, but after about twenty seconds, it all came flooding back to me. It’s surprising that Ryder would remember how much I loved that song and played it on repeat until even my parents wanted to stuff plugs in their ears.

I crack my eyelids open and glance at him as we drive back to my apartment. Soft music floods the dark space. His attention stays focused on the black ribbon of road stretched out beyond the windshield as pale moonlight illuminates the way. If you’d told me two weeks ago that I would willingly be spending time with Ryder McAdams and he’d be helping me tick off items on my bucket list, I would have laughed myself silly.

We’ve never spent time alone together.

He was always Maverick’s friend.

And yet, here we are.

It’s a little surreal. I’ve spent years going out of my way to avoid Ryder. Not because I had a problem with him, but because he seemed to have one with me. He wasn’t a dick or anything like that. It’s more that he didn’t bother talking or interacting with me. We just kind of ignored each other and went about our lives. There were times, especially when we got older, when I’d feel the heat of his gaze, and it would make my insides feel funny. He’d stare until warmth flooded my cheeks.

“What?” he asks, flicking a glance at me.

“Hmm?” I blink, knocked from the thoughts circling through my brain.

“You’ve been staring.”

He turns the steering wheel to the right and swings into the lot, parking near the front of the building before killing the engine and swiveling toward me.

When I remain silent, he says, “Are you going to tell me what you were thinking about?”

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