Hate Game (Kiss Starter: Cambridge High Mayhem #2)

Chapter 1

1

RUE

M y full bladder wakes me from a recurring dream slash nightmare of one moment kissing the boy of my dreams and being held by him to him ghosting me the next moment without a “goodbye” or admitting that what we had was real.

I’m having more of these dreams, and the ghosting part lingers longer, while the kissing and being held in his arms fade like the afterglow of a light being shut off. Afterward, I wake up with this god-awful emptiness, followed by an ache in my chest.

I read somewhere that our subconscious thoughts materialize as dreams. Or that the person we’re dreaming about has us in their thoughts. I doubt Malice Sterling thinks about me at all.

Eventually, I’ll have to get over him. He takes up all the space in my heart, leaving little room for a different guy. Except the thought of getting over him leaves me feeling empty, followed by an ache in my chest.

I groan in frustration with my conflicting emotions for Malice and smush my face into the back cushion of the couch I’m crashing on. Two years is too long to hold onto my feelings for him. It’s time I let them go.

The song “Let It Go” from Frozen pops into my head and replays repeatedly. No, no, no, it’s too early for an earworm. I yank the blankets past my ears and flop onto my other side on the lumpy couch. A pair of eyes stares back at me. I shriek. A large hand covers my mouth.

“Hush, Rue. You’ll wake the baby.”

Baby? When did my friend Shay become a big brother? I blink the sleep from my eyes. Unruly light blonde hair rather than shaggy dark brown. Bright blue eyes rather than green. It’s not Shay but my other friend, Winslow. He’s on his haunches with a wide grin.

He sticks his face closer to mine. “What interesting dream were you having? Come on, tell Daddy.” He does this gimme, gimme motion with his fingers.

Daddy? “Ew.” I shove him. He falls on his butt. “I’m not fully awake. You know I’m not a morning person.” I cover my yawn and pull the covers over my head.

Winslow pulls them down and tilts his head toward the other end of the couch. “Would that help?”

I lift my head and make out two plates and two mugs on the end table. I throw off the covers and dart toward the bathroom.

“Don’t you dare eat my portion.” I point a finger at him as I back up toward the bathroom. “One of these days, your stomach will get you in trouble with your future girlfriend. It’s common courtesy not to eat someone’s food unless you have permission.”

“Does this common courtesy apply to your habit? From what I’ve seen and heard, I think not.”

“Not fair bringing up my reputation when I’m half asleep, but thank you for making breakfast.” I roll my arm and curtsy before I hurry to the bathroom.

I close the door behind me, drowning out Winslow’s laughter, and do my business before sitting beside him on the couch. He passes me my plate and mug, having already set up our TV trays. Winslow said the metal trays are left over from his parents’ days of dating, which means they are over eighteen years old. I wish I owned something of my parents’, but they took anything that meant something with them.

“What baby were you talking about earlier?” I pick at my eggs.

Winslow forks a large piece of my eggs and shovels them into his mouth.

“Hey, you didn’t ask.”

“Then you better not dawdle .” He forks a piece of my cut-up strawberry into his mouth next. “The baby is my cousin’s. They’re staying with us while her husband is at boot camp.”

“That’s nice of your parents.”

He shrugs. “My mom is close with my aunt. Now eat. We have a long day ahead of us.”

He’s bossy, but I do as he says. If Winslow says it’s going to be a long day, it’ll be a long day. He is very literal.

I scarf down my food and sip my coffee. The dark roast with a hint of vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg teases my taste buds and goes down warm in my throat. “This is so good. You make my coffee just right. Thank you.”

“Better than Shay and Red?” He sips his coffee and watches me enjoying mine as though seeing my happiness brings him joy.

“Most definitely,” I answer to his question. “Your cooking is better too, but don’t tell them.”

“Are you afraid we’ll have a cook-off and make you the judge of our cooking?” He smiles.

I roll my eyes. “You all are way too competitive for your own good.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Most definitely,” I say again.

His smile widens. I fork pieces of cut-up strawberries and cantaloupe into my mouth and glance sidelong at him.

The girls go wild for Winslow dressed in his signature low-hung jeans and color-of-the-day T-shirt, but boy, they are out of control when he’s dressed in his riding gear. I would be too if I were a groupie, which I’m not.

Winslow competes on the racing circuit. When I tagged along to one of his races, I almost puked in my mouth at how the girls fawned over him, though I admit Winslow is rather good-looking with his lankiness, piercing blue eyes, and light-blond hair. And do not get me started on how he makes my mouth water when he takes those tight turns and high jumps on the racetrack.

My three best friends are like brothers to me, and they are equally my favorite guys to hang out with, should anyone ask.

“Is Red picking us up in his Escalade? Or are we taking your truck?” I’m hoping we’ll be riding to tonight’s bonfire party in Red’s SUV. The big, black, hulking thing fits my two suitcases better than Winslow’s truck or Shay’s sports car.

“Red is getting us. Do you need help packing?” Winslow looks around the basement.

There is a living space: a dark bedroom without windows that gives me the heebie-jeebies, and a bathroom with a toilet, and a sink but no shower. I don’t mind that the bathroom doesn’t have a shower. I’m just grateful for a place to stay—or, more accurately, a place for my friends to hide me.

Their parents are unaware that I’m homeless. Otherwise, they’ll report it to the school. Though I’m eighteen, I won’t risk being sent away from the town I’ve grown up in.

“I only unpacked the frame.” I nod at the picture frame on the end table close to my elbow.

“You miss her, don’t you?”

My sister Riley. Inside the frame is a picture of us at her high school graduation. Her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Midnight Sterling, photobombed us. His head is between mine and Riley’s, and he’s glaring at the camera with one dark brow cocked. His cousin Dare snapped the shot.

Why did Midnight glare, other than to warn anyone who looked at the picture to stay away from his girl? He has his arms wrapped tight around Riley’s waist from behind. I gave him a hard time for ruining a wholesome picture of me and my big sis, but I’m glad he’s in her life.

He understands that Riley can be her own worst enemy, and it’s nice that she has friends who support her when her bad habits get her in trouble.

“Every day. It’s nice she’s close.”

Riley is finishing her senior year at Dumas University, an hour away.

“So, pray tell. What was your dream about? You were moaning and mumbling something about cars and trucks?”

“How do you know this? Isn’t your bedroom soundproof for when you bring the girls over for some something, something?”

Winslow’s bedroom is the one without windows, and that gives me the heebie-jeebies.

“Some something, something?” He laughs. “You’ve been hanging around us boys too damn much, Rue. You should spend more time baking with Leigh. She’ll get you back to talking like a girl again.”

“That won’t work. Seven is rubbing off on her. Guess what she said last week when we were baking these gourmet cupcakes with fancy toppings?”

Winslow rubs his hands together. “More, more, more.”

“Huh?”

“Make more. Those were the bomb.”

I smile. “I’ll put in a request.”

“Fuck, yeah.” He sticks out his fist. We fist-bump. “Hmm, guess what she said, yeah? No clue.” He shrugs. “That girl’s an enigma. It’s probably the reason Seven has a hard-on for her.”

I scrunch my face. “You’re so crass.”

“Hey, for some guys, it’s not just the chase. It’s the mystery behind why a girl is the way she is that we guys find hot as fuck.”

“Is that why you’re still single? You haven’t had to do the chasing, and a girl hasn’t interested you with whatever mysterious mumbo jumbo that makes her who she is?”

“Nah. For me, being single is a state of mind. Relationships come with complications I don’t want to deal with.”

“You would if you found the one .”

“There’s no such thing.”

“Oh, you’ll know it when it happens. And I hope I’ll be there when it does.”

Winslow crosses his eyes. I play-swat him on the shoulder.

“Okay, tell. What’d she say?” He cleans off his plate and then eyes mine. I let him finish off the rest of my eggs and bacon. The helping was huge.

“Let’s lock and load.” I down my coffee and glance over at Winslow with a smile. “She said it every time we put the frosting tip on the bag.” I laugh.

Leigh was a hoot, pretending she was cocking a gun and shooting every time she squeezed frosting on the cupcakes. I am so happy Leigh is my friend. The funniest things come out of her mouth.

“That’s awesome. She’s cool.”

She is.

“Now, spill.”

“Spill what?”

“About the dream you were having. I left my door open after taking a piss, and I heard you mumbling. I thought you were talking to me, so I walked back, and you were dry humping the couch, like what those hockey players do on the ice while warming up.”

“I was not dry humping anything.” I smack his shoulder again. “You’re making that up.”

He smirks. “Okay, you’re right, but a guy can dream.”

“Ew, please don’t associate me with your dream. We’re friends.”

“Best of friends. Pinky swear.”

I roll my eyes—these friends of mine. After we pinky swear, I put the picture frame inside a thick bubble wrap sleeve and tuck it inside a thick, fluffy towel. I have pictures of me and Riley on my phone, but this one is my favorite.

“The dream, Rue.” He picks up our dishes.

I help him with our coffee mugs. Winslow’s father works at the fire station for his twenty-four-hour shift rotations, and his mom works at the clothing boutique in the town center.

“Can’t it wait until after school?” I’m hoping he’ll forget by then.

“Nah. We don’t have school today. It’s teachers’ workshop day.”

Crap. My mind must’ve remembered that part; otherwise, why sleep in until… I glance at my phone. It’s noon. I usually don’t sleep this late, but my body feels so rested.

“Fine. I was dreaming about him , okay?”

I haven’t told Winslow that him is Malice, our friend Red’s cousin. He only knows him as this nameless guy I’ve been crushing on since sophomore year. But what Malice and I had was more than a crush.

Winslow shakes his head. “You need to get over him and fast, Rue. He does more harm in your head than is necessary for a guy you barely interacted with.”

I told him this crush of mine doesn’t go to our school and that our interaction over the summer was brief, which is far from the truth.

Winslow’s cell phone on the end table pings. He sets the plates down, picks up his phone, and glances at the screen.

“Red and Shay are on their way. They want to get in target practice before heading over to Crescent Falls for the Everything Junk Sale.”

“And in between the sale and the party?” We have hours to kill.

“We’ll get in a few laps on the track.”

“You’ll let me ride?” I smile big at the thought of taking the tight curves and the whoops on the dirt track in the back of Winslow’s parents’ property.

“Nah, not after you crashed my favorite bike.”

Darn it. “Am I taking videos?”

“Not that either. We’re filming with our helmet cams.”

“What about controlling the drone?”

“Shay.”

“Then why am I tagging along?”

“You get to answer the DMs from my adoring fans.”

I cross my arms and roll my eyes. “Your fans are crazy .”

“And that’s why you get to answer them. Crazy understands crazy.” He flicks my nose. I feign a mortal wound. “Don’t be so dramatic, Rue.” His phone pings. He glances at the screen. “Shit, they’re here. Let’s clean up quick and bounce.”

I help Winslow, then grab my suitcases for another round of crashing at a friend’s place. Lock and load; the fun has just begun.