Loathe to Love You by Ali Hazelwood

            Sadie sighs. “At least yours isn’t running against the wall because he can’t use the controller.”

            “Guys,” I tell them, shaking my head, “maybe I was wrong in approving of your relationships. Maybe you can do better.”

            Mara snorts. “Excuse me? Is that a slice of pepperoni on Ian’s shirt?”

            Sure is. “Touché.”

            Sadie clears her throat. “Hey, guys, it’s great that you’re having fun, but we should really get going if we want to make our flights—”

            They groan in a chorus. Like ten-year-olds asked to clean their rooms.

            “I just . . . can’t believe they actually like each other,” Mara says, befuddled.

            Sadie nods. “I don’t know how I feel about this. Seems . . . dangerous?”

            I cover my mouth to muffle my laughter.





Nine


            Ian drives me home after we drop everybody off at the airport, following a disturbing phone number exchange among the guys and a few tears from Mara and Sadie. I’m definitely feeling more like myself, because I send them through TSA with a stern “Stop whining” and gentle slaps on their butts.

            “Try not to fall into a glacier for at least six months, okay?” Sadie yells at me from within the roped area.

            I flip her off and limp back to Ian’s car.

            “I see why you love them so much,” he tells me while driving back to my place.

            “I don’t. Love them, that is. I just pretend to avoid hurting their feelings.”

            He smiles like he knows how full of bullshit I am to the very milligram, and we’re quiet for the rest of the ride. The oldies radio station plays pop songs that I remember from the early 2000s, and I stare at the yellow glow of the streetlights, wondering if I, too, am an oldie. Then Ian slows down to park at my place, and that relaxed, happy feeling wanes as my heart picks up speed.

            I told Sadie and Mara that I’d see if he’s interested in going out with me, but it’s easier said than done. I’ve propositioned plenty of people, but this . . . it feels different. I’m not going to be good at it. I’m going to be total, utter shit. And Ian will realize it immediately.

            “You could . . .” I start. Then stop. My knees suddenly look incredibly interesting. Works of art that require my most dedicated inspection. “I was thinking that . . .”

            “Don’t worry, I’ll carry you upstairs,” he says. He’s wearing jeans and an ocean-blue shirt that matches his eyes and contrasts with his hair and—

            It’s scary, how attractive I find him. The depth of this crush of mine. I liked him since the very start, but my feelings for him have been growing steadily, then exponentially, and . . . what do I even do with them? It’s like being handed an instrument I never learned how to play. Being asked to step onstage at a concert hall utterly unprepared.

            I take a deep breath.

            “Actually, they fixed the elevator. And this new brace is easy to walk on. So, no need. But you . . .” You can do this, Hannah. Come on. You just survived polar bears thanks to this guy. You can say the words. “You could come up anyway.”

            A long silence follows, in which I feel my heartbeat in every inch of my body. It draws out till it gets unbearable, and when I cannot help but glance up, I find Ian looking at me with an expression that can be described only as . . . sorry. Like he knows very well that he’s going to have to let me down.

            Shit.

            “Hannah,” he says, apologetic. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

            “Right.” I swallow and nod. Push the weight in my chest to the side for an unspecified later. God, that later is going to be bad. “Okay.”

            He nods, too, relieved at my understanding. My heart breaks a little. “But if you need anything, anything at all—”

            “—you’ll be there. Right.” I smile, and . . . maybe I’m not 100 percent yet, because I’m starting to feel teary all over again. “Thank you, Ian. For everything. Absolutely everything. I still cannot believe you came for me.”