Read Pretty Hate (New Adult Novel) Online
Authors: Ava Ayers
Tags: #social media, #pretty hate, #instagram, #Pulp Friction Publishing, #Sex, #ava ayers, #facebook, #kenyon, #chick lit, #comedy, #identity
Pretty Hate (New Adult Novel) (37 page)
Ivory-Lou laughed as he closed his eyes.
“I don’t think I should,” I said and looked at my mother. “I mean, I was very rude to him. You know, I emailed him that picture a couple of days ago and he never responded. What if I get there and he has a girl in his apartment? I can’t deal with anymore humiliation.”
“Are you not the one who told me that you are the girl who flies across the country, the world, to see the man she wants?”
“Yeah,” I said and stared at the photo of us.
“You know, you’re right about me. I never took one goddamn risk. And not just with men, with anything. And look where I am. Take the risk, Beth. I’m not saying that it will end with love, I’m not even saying it won’t end in humiliation, but, it’s not for him you’re doing this, it’s for you. Take the risk. Just make it back to the plane on time.”
Ivory-Lou opened his eyes and stared at me.
“I’m telling you right now, you best get your stalker ass back to that airport on time, you hear me? They are non-refundable tickets and I will leave your ass in JFK and you will have to wait until your quarterly bonus comes in from your nonexistent fucking job to get home.”
“I don’t anticipate being there very long,” I said and pulled my compact out of my purse and stared at my reflection.
“Whatever, just get your ass back on time. Now, we’re coming up to the cutoff for JFK, you feeling nervous?” he said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Good,” he said and laughed.
The limousine pulled up in front of a large brownstone on a quiet street in Brooklyn. I looked up at the building and stared at the tall windows. My stomach flip-flopped and I thought about asking the driver to take me on to the airport. I figured I could hide out in the bathroom until it was time to meet them at the gate.
The text notification on my phone went off and I looked down and read the text from Ivory-Lou:
Sent boarding pass. Check email. Gate C-29. Stalker.
I walked up the concrete stairs to Nicolas’ building clutching the picture and the book and stared at the directory. I scanned the residents of the building until I found him. Nicolas Miles, Apartment 4D. I picked up the telephone and pressed the intercom button.
“Please don’t answer,” I said as I stared at the tiny, blue octagon tiles in the foyer. “Please don’t answer, please don’t answer, please don’t--”
“Hello?” he said.
I watched the driver watching me in the side mirror of the limo.
“Hello?” he said.
I cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear and opened the book to the page:
It was better to burn than to disappear
.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
“Um, Nicolas?” I said.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
I stared at my reflection in the faceplate of the intercom and closed my eyes.
“Nicolas, this is Beth,” I said and took a deep breath. “I, um, I am here because--”
“Beth
? I don’t believe it!”
“Fuck,” I said under my breath.
“Are you really downstairs outside my apartment, in
Brooklyn
right now?”
“Um, yeah, but when you say it like that, it really sounds crazier than it is. I just wanted to, you know what, I don’t know what I’m doing. I think I’m gonna go.”
“Jesus, hold on! I will be right down.”
I walked down the stairs and sat on the concrete steps. I stared at the water and the bridge to Manhattan and closed my eyes.
“Beth?” he said as he walked outside.
I opened my eyes and turned and looked over my shoulder at him. I could not breathe as I stared at him. He sat down next to me on the steps and looked at the water.
“You can’t swim in that, you know,” he said and pointed at the river. “Well, you can, but you shouldn’t.”
I looked at him and smiled.
“I wanted to return your book,” I said. “Um, I read it like eighty times.”
“Thank you for coming all the way to Brooklyn from West Virginia just to return a paperback that I gave you months ago,” he said and chuckled. “Very thoughtful of you.”
“Yeah, that’s me, I guess. And also, I wanted to apologize for that stuff I wrote,” I said and stared at my knees. “I felt insecure.”
“You went off,” he said and shook his head.
“You disappeared...disconnected,” I said. “I felt scared.”
“And I figured you changed your mind,” he said. “You never told me.”
“The thing is,” I said as I turned and stared at him, “well, the thing is, Nicolas, I’m not very good at taking care of myself.”
“Who is?” he said and brushed his shoulder against mine.
“Seems like everyone but me. I just, well, I liked you, Nicolas,” I said and looked at the picture. “I really, really did.”
“Am I missing something?”
“What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you supposed to like me? I mean, wouldn’t it be kind of odd if you didn’t? I guess you could have disliked me, technically, and still went out with me, though I don’t know why you’d do that.”
“What I mean is--”
“I know what you mean,” he said and pushed his leg against mine. “Let me see what you have there.”
He took the photo out of my lap and stared at it and smiled.
“That lady at Glade Creek took this,” he said. “That was a really good day.”
“One of the best days ever,” I said as I stared at the picture. “I emailed it to you a few days ago.”
“I didn’t get it. I changed my email though,” he said as he stared at the picture. “I’m always forgetting my passwords, so I just start over.”
“Too bad you didn’t forget your Facebook password,” I said and stared at the bridge.
“Nope, saw that. I have to say as pissed as I was, I did appreciate your clever use of metaphor,” he said and stared at me. “Or would that have been simile?”
“You’re the writer,” I said and took a deep breath.
“I get confused. Hey, I found a publisher.”
“That’s amazing!” I said and smiled. “You must be really excited.”
“I am, I really am. I worked so hard for this.”
“Wow,” I said and stared at him. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, Beth. So am I.”
“I think I decided something, a career path of sorts. Can I tell you?”
“Please do,” he said and turned toward me.
“I decided I want to be a photographer,” I said and closed my eyes. “If you think it’s silly, don’t tell me.”
“Why would I think it was silly? I believe I was the person who told you not to discount your work.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“We should work on a book together.”
“I need to work on a life,” I said and sighed as I looked at his Converse.
“Well, this is it,” he said. “You don’t get another one.”
As I turned and leaned into him, I grabbed the back of his neck and pressed my lips against his.
As I kissed him, I thought of nothing but how incredible that kiss felt. I did not wonder what he was thinking of me, I did not wonder if my ass looked big, I did not try to adjust the pitch of my sigh so it sounded sexier. I just leaned into that kiss and it was the best first kiss I ever experienced.
“I-I just wanted to do that,” I said.
“I am very happy you did,” he said as he stroked my cheek. “Come upstairs with me.”
“I can’t,” I said and looked at the limo, “I have a plane to catch. My family is waiting for me.”
“What have you been through since we last saw each other? Tell me,” he said and put his hand on my leg.
“I will...later,” I said and smiled.
I stood up and walked down the stairs toward the limo.
I turned around and stared at him as I leaned against the car’s door.
“Do you want a fan or a girlfriend?” I said.
“Um, I guess I’d like a girlfriend who becomes a fan?” he said and stood up. “What do you want, Beth?”
“I’m looking at it,” I said and opened the door to the limo. “Call me tomorrow?”
“I will most definitely call you tomorrow,” he said and smiled.
As the limo made its way back toward JFK, I sent Ivory-Lou a text that I was on my way and that I was not a hysterical mess.
I leaned my head back against the headrest and looked out the rear window at the clouds. I thought of India, reduced to communicating through rocks and living in hydrangea bushes and of the night she ironically told me she’d rather live under a rock than under an illusion.
“Guess you got your wish,” I said and closed my eyes.
As I passed security and walked through JFK, I thought of the months I went through the worst of the pretty hate, what I did to myself and to other people. I thought of
Tuesday’s Gone
and
Cut Dead
and Declan and all of the girls I compared myself to. And finally, I thought of Nicolas and smiled.
And as I spotted my family sitting at a table at TGIFriday’s arguing with each other and causing a scene, I realized that all of that energy, the energy of trying to force things that don’t fit, forcing people who don’t fit, the force of all that wasted momentum won’t even nudge a feather from a rooftop.
People will always walk their own road and you cannot drag them onto yours. But, if you happen to wander into the path of a good person, you best take your mask off and shine or I promise, they will just walk on by.
That I’ve horrified many flight attendants across the globe with my oft-thought morbid ritual of listening to
Tuesday’s Gone
as we fly through the sky is not my concern. My declaration evident, my truth now burns: there is no preordained destiny to battle, I thumb my nose at fate. I am a warrior. The rules don’t apply.
Thank you for reading
Pretty Hate
. If you enjoyed this book, please consider spreading your good word.
About The Author
Ava Ayers spends her days sunning on the shore of Sanremo and her nights fighting crime and changing the footwear choices of those with a propensity for pairing socks and Birkenstocks...or nothing like that. Mostly, she likes entertaining her readers with epic tales of lust, love and intrigue involving strong men and even stronger women--something very near and dear to her heart.
If you would like to receive information on new releases, promotional codes for free or discounted books or to chat with Ava Ayers, drop her a line at
[email protected]
. You can catch up with Ava Ayers by visiting her website at
avaayers.com
or following her on Twitter
@AvaAyersAuthor
.
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