Page 44 of Specter Bred

"No, it isn't."

I stared at him.

He stared right back.

"You're telling me the asshole who calls me 'Teacup,' singles me out every chance he gets, and spends half his day trying to get a rise out of me doesn't hate me?"

Hayes considered that for a moment.

"Honestly? If Major Graves hated you, I think he'd just ignore you. He ignores other recruits, like Redwood, Long, and Teller. Barely looks their direction."

I blinked.

"That might be the dumbest thing you've ever said."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But when I dislike someone, I don't spend all day thinking about them. I definitely don't spend all day messing with them."

I snorted.

"Trust me, Boy Scout. Graves isn't sitting around thinking about me."

"He definitely is."

"So, what exactly are you suggesting?" I asked. "Because he sure as hell doesn't like me."

Hayes scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't know, Firecracker. It's hard to explain."

"Try."

He hesitated, which immediately made me suspicious.

"Samuel," I crooned sweetly.

The effect was immediate. His shoulders slumped as I fought the urge to roll my eyes. The idiot loved it when I used his first name. Not Hayes or Boy Scout.

Samuel.

It worked every single time, and unfortunately, I knew it.

"Sammy," I repeated, even sweeter.

He pointed a finger at me.

"That's cheating."

"Talk."

He groaned dramatically.

"You're going to make fun of me."

"Almost certainly."

"See?" he said, pointing at me again. "That's exactly why I don't want to say it!"

"Fine, I promise not to laugh or say your idea is stupid." I said, holding up my pinky finger. "Pinky promise," I added with more mock sweetness.