Page 37 of Love to Hate You
Chapter Twelve
Daisy
My current relationship with Carter can be summed up in one word.
Awkward.
We’ve gone from constantly sniping and taking shots at each other to this bizarre formalness. It’s like we’re strangers. Strangers who unfortunately live together and are forced to, upon occasion, interact.
I dread when Noah takes off and leaves the two of us alone at the apartment. Within minutes, I find excuses to hide out in my room. I spend way too much time there. Which has led to the realization that I need more artwork on the walls. This place is boring. I’ve created a whole new Pinterest board with ideas.
I might crash at Olivia’s place for a few days because I need a break from the forced cordialness. Maybe then we can get back to normal. Well, not normal-normal. I don’t think we can go back to the way it was before. But we need something better than these painful interactions.
I slide the key into the lock and push open the door. My head tips to the side as I listen for the slightest sound. One that will alert me to the fact that I’m not alone. But there’s nothing. It takes a beat or two for my muscles to loosen. The lights are off, which is another telltale sign that no one is around. I’ve never been so thankful to come home to an empty apartment in my life. And that’s saying something.
With a relieved sigh, I drop my bag on the table and think about what I can shove in the microwave for dinner. Mondays are my long days. I had three classes, and then I headed to the library to work on a paper that’s due at the end of next week. Instead of grabbing lunch, I skipped it and wolfed down the granola bar I’d thrown into my bag earlier this morning.
The mere thought of food makes my belly rumble with hunger.
As I flick on the kitchen light, a movement from the far corner of the living room catches my eye and I freeze. The hair at the nape of my neck stands on end. My heart lodges itself somewhere in the middle of my throat as I turn my head more fully in that direction, only now realizing that I’m not alone.
A shadowy figure sits on the recliner nearest to the window.
My fight or flight response kicks into high gear, and I’m just about to race to the apartment door, when I hear, “Hey.”
Recognition is instantaneous.
Carter.
I’d know his deep voice anywhere.
I slap a hand against my chest to still my hammering heart as my body wilts in relief. For a minute, I’d thought someone had broken into the apartment. The only self-defense maneuver I’m familiar with is the one where you scream your head off while swinging your fists wildly. Not exactly a foolproof or recommended tactic.
Last week, Olivia mentioned signing up for a self-defense class offered through the university, which I’d immediately poo-pooed as a waste of time. Considering what just happened, I’m going to highly consider registering for that class.
“Holy crap! You almost gave me a heart attack,” I accuse.
I wouldn’t put it past Carter to try scaring me to death. Fine, that’s not altogether true. Before the whole laxative incident happened, I wouldn’t have put it past him.
Now?
I have no idea where we stand with one another.
“Sorry.” He shifts on the chair. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to come home yet.”
Irritated for allowing him to startle me, I grumble, “You could have said something when I walked in the door like a normal human being.”
He’s like a creeper lurking in the shadows. I’m barely able to make out his features.
Since he hasn’t budged from the chair, I gravitate to the living room and flick on the light switch. “What are you doing in the dark, anyway?”
He shields his eyes with a hand.
“Carter?” I snap. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
His hand slowly falls away from his face, and I gasp at the bruise around his left eye.
“What happened to you?” I move toward him to inspect the damage.