Take a look inside The Love Hate Duet

I rake a shaking hand through my hair, dark strands slipping through my fingers like restless shadows. My new neighbor looked familiar, but I couldn’t place why. At first, I brushed it off—maybe we’d hooked up, maybe it was nothing. But that round face, those long dark locks, they clung to the edges of my mind, refusing to let go.

Then, this morning, passing her on the way to first period, the scent of rosewater shampoo ignited something in me. A memory. A name.

Danika Winters. My middle school best friend. After more than three years, she’s back.

But instead of relief, my skeletons are knocking.

A lump lodges in my throat, heavy as a cannonball. My pulse hammers. My vision blurs. And suddenly, I’m seven years old again, small and shaking in a therapist’s office, his icy fingers curling over my shoulder.

I blink hard, forcing the ghosts back into their graves.

I can’t let Danika tell anyone about that night. Can’t let the past resurface. No one besides me, her father, and the two other men in that room know the truth.

And I intend to keep it that way.

I twist an unlit cigarette between my fingers, my gaze drifting to Danika as she steps into the cafeteria. She moves toward the food station with Sarah Archer, and I don’t know how I missed it before. She looks exactly the same as she did in middle school—just older. Same olive skin. Same hazel eyes. Even that single dimple on her left cheek when she laughs is still there.

A sick sense of déjà vu washes over me as I watch her bypass lunch entirely, opting for just a Coke. Lunch was our thing back in middle school—sitting on the stage, splitting a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and then washing it down with a soda. I still remember the day she told me her mom was sick. She cried the entire lunch period, never once touching her half.

Being the nosy fuck that I am, I’ve already noticed there’s only one car in the driveway next door. Now that I know Danika is my neighbor, it doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. Her mom didn’t make it. Whatever they were doing in California all these years didn’t work. And I doubt it was cheap, which is probably why they bought the renovated two-bedroom mother-in-law suite next door.

Tad Parker drops onto the tabletop beside me, shaking me from my thoughts. “You look like you’re out for blood. Who pissed you off this early in the year?”

I don’t particularly like Tad, but playing football together all through high school has forced us into a strange sort of camaraderie. He thinks we’re friends. I don’t.

I slip the cigarette between my lips and light it up. “No one.”

Lunch trays clatter onto the table behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Tad only associates with a specific breed of entitled pricks and no one dares to sit with him uninvited.

I scan the cafeteria again, searching for Danika’s distinct shade of brown. It’s rich and threaded with natural highlights. Too pure to come from a bottle—something I didn’t appreciate at thirteen.

I take a slow drag from my cigarette, exhaling a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. I need to stop thinking about Danika like this. Like she’s still the girl I shared my secrets with. The girl who was once my best friend.

I take another drag, letting the burn in my lungs anchor me. It makes tuning out the cafeteria noise easier—until I hear her name.

“You guys remember Danika, right?” Sarah sets her tray beside Tad and glances at my tablemates.

Danika is greeted with a collective murmur of uninterested hellos. Good. No one remembers her. She’ll have to prove she belongs, and judging by the fact she still wears pink Converse low-tops, Melody is going to eat her alive.

Melody Fox, self-proclaimed queen of St. Anastasia’s High, has earned every bit of her title because she’s mean. I can’t stand her, but for some reason, she’s convinced we’re a thing. Everyone knows I don’t do relationships—especially not ones that come with the expectation of exclusivity. Just like she knows I fuck whoever I want, whenever I want. Yet she still clings to the idea that we’re together. At this point, arguing with her takes more effort than it’s worth, so I let her believe whatever she wants.

Melody’s voice turns syrupy sweet when she says, “You’re like, really pretty.”

It’s a trap. One Danika is sure to fall into. I almost feel bad, but Melody is making my job of running Danika out easier. Growing up, Danika was quiet and folded in on herself when met with confrontation. Our personalities back then were so similar. We were two halves of a whole.

Looking at how Danika’s cheeks are flushing, I doubt she’s changed. I give it a day, maybe two, before she finds another lunch table. Hell, maybe she’ll find another school.

Melody tilts her head, her beady brown eyes rolling over Danika’s features again. “Who does your hair?”

“Um.” Danika runs unmanicured fingers through her long strands. She’s nervous and every instinct in me screams to put an end to whatever Melody is doing, but I don’t. I let Danika hang herself socially as she says, “I don’t dye it.”

Melody snickers. “So, that’s natural?”

Rachel Moore, Melody’s ever-loyal sidekick, cackles beside her. They exchange a glance—silent conversation passing between them. I’ve never understood how girls do that. If guys have something to say, we just say it, while girls can tear down reputations with a single lift of an eyebrow.

“She’s probably too poor to dye it,” I add on an exhale, the words heavy on my tongue, but I can’t stop thinking about what Danika might remember. I need her on edge. Maybe even afraid of me. Maybe then I can keep her quiet. “Have you seen where she lives?”

“No!” Melody gasps. “Where?”

I take another drag and then let out another exhale to numb my mind as a shiver of guilt ripples through me. “The shack next to me.”

Melody cackles and then gasps for air, her words coming out as a breathy squeak when she says, “You mean Mr. Andrew’s old guest house?”

The weight of Danika’s stare burns into me. I turn my head, meeting her gaze with a cold glare. She needs to understand I’m not the same scared little boy she left behind. I will burn the world down to keep her quiet. She may have been my friend when we were kids, but now she is my enemy.

“Whatever. Poor or not,” Gunner Wells cuts off Melody’s laughter, his gaze sliding over Danika’s curves before settling on her face. His lips curl into a smirk. “You’re fucking hot.”

Danika isn’t hot. She’s beautiful. Always has been. Only now, she’s grown into her body. She developed early. I know that’s strange to say, but come on. I’m a guy. I notice these things. Especially on a pretty girl who leaves her table to sit with the weird, friendless kid who had a stutter in the sixth grade.

That kid was me.

Awkward as fuck, thick-rimmed glasses, and quieter than a church mouse because damn near everyone picked on me when I talked.

I was in therapy for years to correct my speech. Although, looking back, I’m not sure if those sessions helped my situation or made it worse.

Tad crushes his soda and tosses it at the trash can. It circles the rim and then falls onto the cafeteria floor. He grunts, probably remembering how shitty he was on the basketball team as a freshman. “Yeah, at least she’s not like Piper.”

“Don’t fucking talk about Piper,” I quip. Tad smirks, realizing he’s gotten under my skin and I’m reminded once again why I can’t stand him.

Piper Lovelace, my on-again-off-again foster sister, doesn’t deserve to be treated the way she is. Part of her reputation is my fault. I started the rumor that she slept with, I don’t even remember who, as a joke last year when I considered her to be nothing more than a nuisance. Before I knew what she was going through. Not that that’s any excuse.

I never expected the rumor of her being easy to stick because most of the things people say about Piper are forgotten in a day or two. It didn’t help that soon after she started hanging around with a bunch of different guys, adding fuel to the rumor fire. Even so, everything they say about her is wrong. Piper is a good person. She’s just been dealt a shitty hand in life.

“Let me guess, Piper’s fucking both you and Cooper now that she’s moved back home again?” Tad digs a joint out of his cigarette pack and lights it, not caring about the cafeteria monitors.

They won’t do anything anyway, a perk of going to the most expensive school in the county. Certain kids could probably murder someone in cold blood on campus and damn near get away with it.

Tad sucks in a breath, holding the smoke in his lungs, then passes the rolled paper to Gunner and says, “Tell me, is that bitch as good in bed as the rumors say she is?”

I toss what’s left of my cigarette to the floor and jump off the table, ready to kick Tad’s ass, but Cooper—my twin brother— beats me to it. He comes up from the left, catching Tad in his blindside, and throws a jab at his face. Tad falls off the table and clutches his cheek like the little bitch that he is. Serves him right. Piper is family, and you don’t fuck with family.

I sit on top of the table again and light another cigarette to calm my nerves. I’m anxious, full of unused adrenaline, and I need something to take my mind off stomping Tad’s face into the pavement.

“Damn it, Cooper!” Tad yells, but anyone within earshot has gone back to talking with their table mates. Everyone on campus knows that if you mess with Piper, talk to Piper, hell even look at Piper the wrong way, you’ll face the wrath of Cooper. He’s more protective of her than a starved watchdog with a steak.

Our principal, Mr. White, grabs Cooper by the arm and escorts him to the office with Tad in tow. Mom will be pissed when he gets suspended for the rest of the day, but she’ll understand. She always does. Cooper spends more time out of school than in and she barely bats an eye.

But when I get in trouble, all hell breaks loose.

Melody groans and rolls her eyes. “Always with the drama.”

From my peripheral vision I see Gunner make himself comfortable next to Danika. I don’t like the way he’s looking at her or the way he whispers into her ear. I hate how she playfully shoves him and they both laugh.

I have no right to be pissed, but being around her sets me on edge.

Besides, I saw her first.