Love is Blind. Hate is 20/20.

“What the hell happened to you, Chris?” I ask him. The hippie looking boy is lying across the hotel room bed, taking slow drags of a cigarette that he shouldn’t be smoking here. His tattoos nearly cover his arms,d and he pulls himself upright so he can glance lazily at the TV. Confused, the pale boy shrugs, carefully sliding his v-neck off.

“How do you mean?” He asks nonchalantly, staring at the meteorologist on the TV. I doubt he’s actually focused on the weather though, probably more-so on the fact that I had finally confronted him. He glances at me sideways and quickly moves his gaze back to the box that’s projecting pictures that lit up the room.

The hotel room is dark, as it was easily 3am, and everyone else is probably sleeping at this point. We pulled off the road at least an hour ago, but I’d been giving Chris the “silent treatment” all tour. We’d known each other since he moved to Missouri for high school. We were close, all right. That is, until the bitch that fucked him and then ripped his heart out and had the whole hockey team step on it came into the picture. After he’d met her, I was completely thrown out of the picture. I knew we would eventually grow apart, but the extent that we’d actually grown apart to was sickening.

Chris was a sweet, naïve sixteen year old, and the kind that only ever smoked weed and maybe drank a couple of times. He’d never gotten anywhere with a girl, barely had his first kiss. I was the same, but I knew enough to make my way around the popular crowd and seem like I knew what I was doing. After I’d moved off to New York City to finish off my education, Chris was slowly getting deeply tied in with the music scene, making shady deals with producers. I always kept an eye on him from a distance, though, a sorry attempt at keeping him safe.

Chris started turning hostile toward people who wanted to have a little fun with their job. He wanted nothing to do with Bryanstars, even though he was just trying to poke fun with his interviews. It got to the point where his personality sickened me, and then to the point of no return. I hated his personality with every fiber of my being, and I would never stop hating what he had become.

“You used to be nice to people, Chris. What. The fuck. Happened?” I question, feeling myself step closer to him. It was so sickening that a sixteen year old sweetheart could turn into this horrific, self-centered twenty year old tweaker. I slide my rubber bracelets off, revealing a multitude of small tattoos and some remaining scars from when I was really bothered by Chris ignoring me.

“I still don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Chris answers. His eyes focus on me now, glancing blankly at my chestpiece. It wasn’t nearly as ornate as his, though. “Seriously, like, the fuck? I didn’t do anything to you, C,” He elaborates, flicking his gaze to the large white scar down my right arm. It starts at my interior elbow and goes down to near my hand.

"You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about, Chris,” I start to get furious, trying to get him to see my point of view. Doubting that I would get far, I add, “You god damn abandoned me, Chris. You abandoned me the second Gabi walked into your life, and wouldn’t fucking listen to me when I told you it was a bad idea.”

“You’re still stuck on that?” Chris shoots back, pulling his arms across his bare chest. The skin is nearly covered in inks of all colors. Some part of me wants to run my hands all over it, and savor the feeling. The other parts all scream for me to claw it all off, rip him to shreds and bury the remains. “It’s been four years, Cat. Let it the fuck go.”

“No!” I yell, about ready to turn and hide in my guitarist’s room. I catch myself and continue with my sentence. Refusing to let this boy get to me, I try to remain strong, taking two steps toward him as he puts out his cigarette. “I watched you change, Chris. As much as you think you didn’t, it’s happened. You used to be outgoing and love life, and now I watch you shove your head so far up your ass, you can barely speak something that at least sounds truthful in interviews. Seriously, Chris? Stop putting up the ‘I love everyone.’ act. It’s not true, and it never will be.”

“What act, Cat?” Chris questions, “You know I’ve been that way since we were kids.” I start to seethe in my skin, about to jump at him and strangle the boy. He is frustrating me to no end. He takes two steps toward me, so I now have to tilt my head back to look at him.

“The act where you pretend to be a hardcore stoner and to only care about music, Chris. I know you have the ability to kick back and have fun sometimes. Everyone’s lives don’t revolve around your ‘pity me I’m heartbroken’ music,” I answer, starting to get to the point of fuming. I curl my hands into fists with my first finger extended and press my finger to his chest. “I know there is a sixteen year old Chris in there somewhere.”

“I’m real, chickadee. As much as you want to believe it’s you, the only real in this world is me, and my band,” Chris rebounds, pressing his finger to the same place in my chest. “You’re the fake one in this relationship?”

“Relationship? Please. I hate you, Christofer Drew. You couldn’t even get your head out of your ass long enough to kiss a girl,” I threaten, shoving him back a few feet, but he makes up for it almost instantly by pulling himself closer to me. He grabs my hoodie sleeves and yanks me forcefully against his chest. It’s almost a turn on. Something I would never expect from him.

“I don’t like you that much either, Cat, and I beg to differ,” He winks suggestively, like he knows something I don’t. It pisses me off to no end, but not nearly as much as what he is about to do. He yanks on my hoodie sleeves again, and presses his lips forcefully to mine. His touch is rough, hateful, and I like it. Though I hate to admit it, I like it a lot. His rough, smoker’s lips press angrily against mine.

I find myself kissing back, practically forcing myself against him. The bare skin underneath my hands turns burning hot as I find my hands pressing against his neck. The wings of his bird tattoo move as I grip hastily at the inked skin on the sides of his throat. He lets out a loud groan as he shoves me angrily against the wall between our beds, lifting my legs to wrap themselves around his waist.

The cool air of the air conditioner blows against us as Chris breaks the kiss to move to my neck. He immediately finds his lips on my sweet spot, biting and sucking on the skin right above my clavicle piercings. His hands find my waist as his strong thumbs press into my hips. I shudder and respond by moving my hands to his shoulders and digging my nails into his warm, pale skin. He hisses in what I assume is pain, and slides his hands underneath my shirt, forcing my hoodie off in the process of pulling it over my head.

Before I can complain, my bra has been removed and I’m practically tackled onto the bed. Chris initially lands on top of me, but I manage to flip us over so I am hovering over him. He sends me an angry glare and grips my hips tightly, most definitely leaving a bruise. I grind my hips against his, not bothering to try and remove his jeans for the sake of driving him insane. He hates me already, right?

I press a sweet kiss to his chest, slowly making my way down to his belly button and then to his waist. He groans in complaint, but I won’t let him have the end of it. My tongue slips out of my mouth and I lick lightly across the waistband before slowly unbuttoning his denim. I slide the jeans off slowly, and give him a shit-eating grin. He can’t complain now, and I’ve got him pinned. I lean down and lick softly underneath his stretched lobe.

Chris grumbles, a sign of pleasure, and his hands slide hungrily up to my chest. He caresses my breasts in a hasty, almost hateful manner, leaning up to nip and suck at the skin around my nipples. I grip the back of his neck, grabbing a fistful of his hair, and tug, listening to him grunt and moan as I grind my hips back against his again and again. I don’t bother to resist as he flips us back over.

He grips my hips again, very tightly, and forcefully shoves my sweatpants off, not bothering to untie them. He was a beautiful human being, even if he could only focus on himself. His tattooed chest is chiseled at best along with a smooth, flat stomach and thin, yet strong arms. I find myself staring at his dazzling facial features. His eyes have gained the familiar sparkle that they had several years ago. Fascination returns to his gaze as he tries to figure out what makes me tick.

Chris’s left hand finds its way under the fabric of my boy shorts. I suck in a hasty breath as he starts drawing his fingers over my clit. The boy knows what he’s doing as his other hand draws almost loving circles on my neck. His touch is soft this time, though, not forceful as it had been only a few seconds prior.

“Chris?” I mutter, resting my hands on the waistband of his boxers. His muscles tense under my touch, as he tries his best to resist the feeling of my soft hands on his skin. I don’t quite know where this is going, but I certainly like it. His hand retreats from my pelvic region and is rested now on my ribcage. The boy was skinnier than me, but it didn’t bother me at all.

“Yeah, Cat?” His breathing sounds more like a thirsty dog, panting for a drink of water. He starts to falter as he holds himself up with one arm, and falls next to me, so we have our arms entangled around each other on the bed that he’d claimed as his. I slip my fingers under the waistband of his boxers, starting to tug them down slightly.

I just shake my head in response and press my lips to his again roughly, shoving my tongue in his mouth. He lets out a surprised moan, fights my tongue back forcefully. One of my hands slides into the front of his boxers, slowly stroking the skin of his member. He grunts angrily into my mouth, sliding his calloused fingers under my boy shorts again.

This time he slides two fingers inside of me, slowly pressing them in and then retreating them again. He does it several times, making a sensual feeling blossom from my very core. His touch is soft, but I still feel the force in it as he manages to slide a third finger inside of me. I could feel it stretching out my insides as he kept the same medium pace going.

I stifle a squeal as he starts shoving his fingers deeper inside of me. The pace is heavy, hard, even, as he finally withdraws his now wet fingers, and pulls my underwear off and leaves me completely naked. My hands slide his boxers off, revealing his hard member. It was my turn to tease now. I slide my way down his body and take it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around his head. His hips bucked toward me in pleasure as I licked the underside of his shaft.

I bobbed my head, sliding it delicately in and out of my mouth. Before he could cum, I stopped as he grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back up to we were face to face. He flipped us over again, leaving him on top and me underneath him. I used my fingers to lightly trace the tattoos on his chest. I knew he’d always valued sex as an expression of love, not an object of emotional overload release, but something about this moment told me it was different.

Chris leaned down, pressing his lips to mine as he lightly pushed his tip inside of me. I wince, not really expecting the pain. I tilt my head back in pleasure and dig my nails into his neck. He starts a slow pace, filling me up quickly as he slides in and out of me easily. I want more. I need more.

I lean up to him and press my lips against his ear and grunt, “Harder, Chris. Fuck me.” He surprisingly complies, and starts slamming himself in me as hard as he can, making me want to scream. I drag my nails down his back and start to feel my core get warm. I can’t give in though, not until he has first. I push him underneath me again and start to ride him. My hips grind against his as I listen to him groan and start to curse under his breath.

“God damn, Cat. You don’t know what you do to me,” He moans, kissing me on the lips and massaging my breasts. I nearly scream as his hands start to make my nipples rise. Forcing his entire member inside me, I feel him hit my spot, making me moan as loud as I could in pure ecstacy.

“Chris!” I yell, letting him get on top of me. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist as his pace finally gets erratic and he releases himself inside of me. Shortly after him, I cum too, watching his face as he collapses on top of me. He’s gorgeous, no matter how disgusting his personality may be. His breathing is uneven as he pulls me into him, pressing his lips softly to my temple.

“I love you,” he states, his arm tightly around my shoulders. I pull the covers over us and start to slide away. For some reason I’d pictured him as a no-strings-attached kind of guy. I know he didn’t mean it, but some part of me thought he might. I leave my hand on his chest as I sit up, not bothering to cover my chest.

“Bullshit, Chris. You tell everyone you love them,” I answer, about to slide out of the bed to shower. I was never a fan of being sweaty and disgusting, so I’d always taken at least two showers a day. Before I can escape him, he grabs my wrist, turning me to look at him. His greenish brown eyes bore some semblance of sadness, and maybe some regret.

“But what if I mean it this time?” He asks, sliding up to sit behind me. His legs barricade my own on either side, and his arms wrap around my neck. The tangled mess of dirty reddish brown hair finds its way to my shoulder as the boy lays his chin there. “It took me three years to realize it, Cat, but I do. I love you.”

He repeats the phrase and presses soft, delicate kisses to my neck, and watches intently as I turn around to face him. I stand up, as does he, and I look up at him carefully, not quite knowing how to answer. I know I love him too, but is this really the time to be pulling that kind of card?

“I love you too, Christofer,” I answer, taking his hand into mind. “We’ll take this world by storm with love as our weapon.” I wink at him, pressing a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. His free thumb draws small circles across the skin around my clavicle piercings. He kisses back sweetly, and moves his lips to my cheek, and then my jawline.

“Love is our weapon,” He repeats, pulling me into a simple hug. We stay there for an eternity, just sharing the gesture. His heartbeat has finally evened out after the whole sex-born-from-hatred thing, as has mine. I pull back and smirk, taking a few steps toward the hotel bathroom.

“Want to show me how much you love me?” I wink, pulling at his hand to get him to follow me.
Christofer smiles back and follows my lead to the shower. I turn on the water, but neither of us will wait for it to get warm, as he tugs me into the small shower. It’s only made for one person, but we somehow make it work. He has me shoved up against the wall, like he had me before, with my legs wrapped around his waist. I can tell the boy is impatient, when he doesn’t even bother to tease before he pushes inside of me again.

It won’t take long for him to get me to my point again, I know that. He’s being gentle this time, slow and passionate. It’s the way I’d always thought about him doing it. This wasn’t just a simple round of hateful sex, either. I knew to both of us it was making love, and we did love each other. We just had to force our way through the hate first.

The water borders on scalding as he pushes himself inside of me slowly, surely savoring the feeling. I love the feeling of this love. Chris was always a gentle creature, even if he did get peeved sometimes. He holds me close to him, and moans quietly, “I love you, Cat.”

“I love you too, Chris,” I groan back. The water hitting my skin makes it slick, and easier to move along Christofer’s body. I let him take over me, the ungodly slow pace feels amazing. It takes me by shock when he cums inside of me for the second time tonight, and as I start to feel my insides heat up, he cums again. I release myself on him before we finally help each other clear the sweat off of our tattooed bodies.

Chris massages the body wash slowly into my skin, and I feel my muscles instantly relax. I turn and press my lips to his again, savoring the feeling of his love. I know Chris doesn’t like using shampoo due to the animal product in it, but I want his hair clean instead of the greasy pile it usually is. I reach down stealthily and grab my Axe shampoo.

Before he can protest, I rub the golden substance into his hair, trying my best to massage his scalp as the shampoo bubbles and foams. It washes off in a few seconds, and I’m greeted by a glaring Chris.

“What?” I ask, trying my best to look innocent. He shuts off the water after both of us have washed up and steps out of the shower to shake the water out of his hair like a dog. Water droplets crash against the wall tile and mirrors. We both change back into pajamas, and I’m about to curl up in my own bed when Chris shakes his head and picks me up to throw me on his own bed.

“Cat, I thought you loved me,” He pouts, setting me down on his bed as he crawled in next to me. I nod and curl into his warm body. He sleeps in only pajama pants, and I stick to a bra and sweatpants to sleep in. My arms wrap lightly around his waist as he plants a light kiss on the top of my head.

“I do, Chris, and I have. Ever since I watched Gabby rip your heart out, all I wanted you to do was notice me again,” I answer, kissing his cheek.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me because you were afraid she would kill you?” Chris questions, pulling the sheets over top of us.

“I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean you couldn’t have made an attempt to talk to me, Chris,” I sigh, running my hands through his hair. It finally felt clean and soft for once, instead of shaggy and unkempt. “It’s behind us now,” I add, “I love you, Christofer.”

“I love you too, Cat,” He answers, kissing my forehead. I let myself finally drift off to sleep, pulling myself closer to him. I let myself trust him, for one night, and that was the one night that I didn’t regret.