I Hate You - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,33
always add it.” I arch a brow.
She stills and frowns, the soft lines of her oval face flattening. “Blaze…please don’t take this class.”
Shit. She really doesn’t want to be near me. My heart twinges as her words snake around inside my chest. I did that to her. I removed her from my life in a public way that everyone knew about, even though that wasn’t my intention, and it made her hate me.
I stare at her. “Can you handle being close to me for just one more hour? Will you give me that? I’m not going to register for this class, okay?”
Her lashes flutter, but she nods.
“Everyone grab a practice foil,” comes from the instructor. He goes on to tell us his name is Chaz then he runs through the syllabus for the semester, which is basically us learning how to poke at each other. No books involved. I got this.
We grab the swords, each one a thin wooden blade with a ball at the tip covering the pointed end.
“Barritus!” I call out with the sword in the air, and a few nearby students glare my way. I wave and give them a grin. “What’s up? Cool class, right?” They blink and turn back to each other. I look at Charisma; she’s glaring too, but her lip is twitching.
“Dammit. Stop making people dizzy with that smile…and what the hell is ‘Barritus’?”
I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in days. She likes my crazy—or she did.
“War cry of the Roman soldier.”
“Of course it is.” She smiles and…I think…I think I’d do anything to keep that smile there.
I shake myself. You’re done with her, dude. DONE.
I wave the foil around. “Did you know the legions usually marched in silence to maintain order in their ranks? But once they encountered the enemy, they would erupt with that war cry and freak everyone out. They’d use their shields to roughen the sound, making it rumble and reverberate across the battlefield.” I tap my head. “The Romans were masters at battle.”
“Is that what you call out when you take the football field?”
“Nope, but I should.”
She toys with the ball on the end of her sword, her words nonchalant. “I watched the big game. I saw you make a few big plays.”
My breath hitches. “Yeah?”
“Dammit. Stop grinning. You were amazing and you know it. I had my whole family around the TV watching!”
Awe fills my mind. She watched. She…watched me. Something stirs deep within, soft and warm, shifting, aching to get out, desperate to walk up to her and just wrap my arms—
Chaz approaches our mat and grimaces as he takes in my tall body and her petite one. “You two really don’t go together.”
“I know, but he insisted,” she says dryly. “I suspect he wants to pulverize me.”
Chaz gives me a long, lingering glance, brushing over my frame. He comes back to my face, blinks, and then blushes.
I just smile. I’m used to men checking me out since coming to Waylon. I don’t lean that way, but I don’t have a problem with people who do.
We have a player on the team, Kent, a linebacker who told us he was gay our freshman year at training camp. For the most part—except for assholes like Archer—everyone supports him.
That wouldn’t have been the case with my aunt and uncle. They attend a small judgmental church in Alma. At fourteen, I announced I was done. I didn’t feel at home sitting in that pew every Sunday, especially with the folks who knew my parents, people who had gone to high school with them.
I heard the whispers.
What a terrible tragedy.
He’s never going to amount to anything.
My hands tighten around my foil, and I shake myself and tune back in to the conversation I’m missing. Focus. Save your randoms for later.
“…his size will put you at a severe disadvantage,” Chaz is saying to her.
“That’s what I keep telling him, but it fits better than you’d think,” she replies.
Nah, oh nah. She did not just…
Her amber eyes glint at me. She did. I put my fist up to hold back a laugh.
Chaz stares at her without comprehending.
I clear my throat. “I’m sure she’ll hold her own against me. Don’t let this body of mine fool you, sir. I’m a pushover.”
He sighs and walks away with an if you say so look on his face.
“Where did you go just now, while he was talking?” she asks.
“Random thoughts.” I shake my flimsy sword. “So why are you taking fencing?”
She moves into the beginning