Hate Me Like You Love Me (Serena and Caleb) novel Chapter 35

Serena’s POV

I agree to the date because Lucas promises to “make it up to me for the party”—to prove he’s trustworthy, that he means no harm.

The words sound reasonable when he says them over the phone, his voice carrying that same wounded sincerity that’s been eating away at my certainty for days.

I’m still hesitant, still questioning everything, but somehow my father found out about our plans and his reaction made backing out impossible.

The way his face lit up when Lucas called to ask permission, the enthusiastic approval in his voice as he told me what a fine young man Lucas is…

And how pleased he is to see me giving someone so respectful a chance—I couldn’t crush that without explaining things I’m not ready to say.

Before Lucas arrives, I duck into the kitchen to grab my phone charger from where I left it plugged in behind the coffee maker.

The whole family is there—Catherine at the counter arranging flowers in a vase, dad at the breakfast table reading the business section.

And Caleb, leaning against the refrigerator with his arms crossed, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“You look lovely, sweetheart,” my father says without looking up from his paper. “That color brings out your eyes.”

“Thank you.” I reach past Caleb toward the outlet, hyperaware of his presence beside me.

His fingers brush deliberately across the back of my wrist as I unplug the charger, the touch light and lingering and completely intentional. Hidden from our parents’ view by the angle of the counter, but unmistakably there.

Goosebumps race up my arm—half from the horror of him doing this with our parents three feet away, half from the traitorous pleasure that sparks beneath my skin despite everything that happened between us last night.

“Have fun,” he says quietly, his voice carrying undertones only I can hear.

I escape to the front hall before anyone notices my flushed cheeks, my heart hammering against my ribs like it’s trying to break free.

The date begins awkwardly. I sit rigid in Lucas’s passenger seat, hyperaware of every movement he makes.

The way he adjusts the rearview mirror, the careful way he checks his blind spots, how his hands rest at ten and two on the steering wheel like he’s taking a driving test.

To occupy my nervous hands, I rummage through my purse, looking for lip balm or mints or anything to give me something to do besides stare out the window.

My fingers close around a small canister that definitely wasn’t there this morning.

Pepper spray. I pull it out, staring at the compact black container in confusion. I don’t own pepper spray. Never even considered buying any.

Caleb.

The realization hits me like cold water. He must have slipped it into my bag sometime today, probably when I left it on the kitchen counter this morning.

I don’t know whether to feel grateful or unsettled by the gesture. Maybe both.

“Everything okay?” Lucas glances over, his brow creased with what looks like genuine concern. “You seem tense.”

“I’m fine.” I slip the pepper spray back into my bag. “Just… it’s been a while since I’ve been on a proper date.”

“Well, no pressure at all. We’re just two friends having dinner and getting to know each other better.”

His smile is warm, reassuring. “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, just say the word and I’ll take you straight home.”

But Lucas is prepared for my nerves. He’s courteous to the point of being almost excessive, asking repeatedly if I’m comfortable with the restaurant choice, if the temperature in the car is okay, what kind of music I’d prefer.

Every decision defers to me. Every gesture screams safe, harmless, considerate.

The restaurant he chooses is bright and crowded, the kind of place where nothing bad could possibly happen. Public, respectable, filled with families and couples enjoying quiet conversations over candlelit tables.

Lucas’s voice drops to something almost whisper-soft.

“I’m asking for the chance to show you who I really am when I’m not drowning in alcohol and old wounds. That’s all.”

I search his face for cracks in the performance, for the predator I know must be hiding underneath.

But Lucas is so good with words, so smooth in his sincerity, that I find nothing to criticize. Every response is perfect. Every expression lands exactly right.

Is he that good an actor? Or has my own hurt over Caleb’s secrets blinded me to the possibility that I’ve been wrong about Lucas all along?

The drive home carries a different energy. The tension has softened into something almost comfortable as we talk about small things—classes, holiday plans, neutral territory that requires no emotional navigation.

When Lucas pulls into my driveway, he puts the car in park and turns toward me. My breath catches as he leans closer, he’s going to kiss me, and my whole body goes rigid, frozen between fight and flight.

But Lucas reaches past me, his arm barely brushing my shoulder, and opens the passenger door.

He smiles. “I don’t want to keep you too long. I promised your father I’d have you home exactly on time.”

Relief and confusion flood through me in equal measure. “Right. Thank you. For dinner.”

“Anytime, Serena. I had a wonderful time.”

I walk toward the house on unsteady legs, no longer certain what to think or feel or believe. Movement catches my eye—second floor, the twitch of curtains falling back into place.

Caleb’s room. He was watching.