Page 46 of Love to Hate You
Chapter Fifteen
Daisy
Noah knocks on my bedroom door and pushes it open enough to stick his head inside. “Food’s here.”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I say, not bothering to glance up from the book I’m reading. “I just need to finish up this section.”
“Don’t take too long or your burger will get cold.” His stern voice has me glancing up with a grin on my face.
“Okay, Dad.”
“No problem, honey. Just, whatever you do, don’t call me daddy.” Noah smirks. “That would be a scarring experience for both of us.”
“Ewww! Gross!” I pick up a pillow from my bed and throw it at him. With a chuckle he slams the door closed.
It takes at least ten more minutes for me to highlight the passage I was reading. Even though I have a test coming up in sociology, it’s not the reason I’m dragging my feet.
Carter.
I’ve been doing my best to avoid him since the incident at my aunt’s house. Everything has changed between us and I don’t have a firm handle on it yet. Before, when I’d see him, the attraction was always there humming under the surface, but it was buried deep beneath the aggravation and annoyance. You take away the animosity and what are you left with?
Yeah…just attraction. The kind that buzzes unwantedly through your system before settling uncomfortably in your belly, doing all sorts of disconcerting things to your senses. Making you long for things you should definitely not be thinking about.
It feels safer to hide out in my room.
“Daisy!” Noah bellows at the top of his voice. “Get your ass out here.”
I huff out a breath and slam my book closed. Apparently, avoidance isn’t going to be a possibility with big mouth out there. I guess we’ll have to go with plan B which is hoovering up my food before escaping to my room again.
I straighten my shoulders like I’m going to war and head out to the small dining area attached to the living room. We have a breakfast bar with three stools, which is where we normally eat our meals. With Ashley joining us, there aren’t enough seats. So, the bags of food have been spread out on the table.
Carter, Ashley, and Noah have already dug into their food. I take my time grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before lowering myself onto the only available chair situated between Noah and Carter.
My eyes dart to Carter before I can stop them. The attraction humming between us has only grown stronger over the last few days. As much as I try to ignore it, that feels like a herculean task.
Normally, I can’t wait to dig into a cheeseburger from Devon’s, the best burger joint in town, but with Carter sitting beside me, I’m a nervous, jittery mess. Even though I’m starving, my appetite has vanished. By this point, I would already have devoured half of my sandwich—that’s how good it is. But right now, I don’t feel like I can choke down a single bite. Which is a shame. I stare glumly at my food wondering if I can feign a stomachache, so I can get out of here.
None of this makes sense. I’ve known Carter for years. I’ve always felt a tug of attraction when I’m around him, but it’s never been like this. This feels like being hit over the head with a sledgehammer.
And then hit again.
Stalling, I check under the bun. It’s loaded with the works, minus the onions. I can’t stand onions.
Noah rolls his eyes. “Your dislike of onions is almost pathological.”
I shrug. “To each their own.”
Again, the heavenly aroma hits me. It’s almost a relief when my appetite perks up and takes notice. This thing—whatever it is with Carter—isn’t a big deal. Given enough time, it’ll go away. I just need to be persistent in ignoring the feelings that are trying to take root. Instead of dwelling on Carter, I force him from my head and take a massive bite of meat and bun. Even though I’m not totally feeling it, I manage to plow my way through half of the sandwich.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Carter. After the other day, we’re back to giving one another a wide berth. There’s a weird expression clouding his face, but I’m not sure what to make of it. I need to stop tormenting myself with this and just ignore him.
I clear my throat and focus my attention on Ashley who has surprise-surprise, ordered a salad.
Minus the croutons.
And dressing.
My God, who wants to choke down leafy greens without either of those things? Croutons and dressing are what make salad edible.