All About You (Love & Hate series #1)

By Joanna Mazurkiewicz

New Adult Romance, full length novel 83,000 words.

I start hating Oliver just after his older brother Christian’s death. I drag him down a road of humiliation and pain to try to cope with what his brother did to me.
A few months after Christian’s passing, Oliver leaves town, and for the next two years, he is absent from my life. The demons claw their way back in, and I must learn to live with the secret that has destroyed me.
Now I’m starting a new life, away from Gargle and away from my past, but everything crashes when I see Oliver the first day at university. It’s clear that many things have changed since we’ve been apart. Now he is captain of the rugby team and the most popular bloke on campus.
Then he makes a bet and gives me an ultimatum: I leave Braxton forever and start somewhere else, or I stay and play his game... because he’s never forgotten that it was me who ruined his life two years ago.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joanna Mazurkiewicz
• Release date: Mar 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311962126

Book preview

All about you

(Love &Hate series #1)

by

Joanna Mazurkiewicz

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Copyright

Copyright © 2014 by Joanna Mazurkiewicz

First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Joanna Mazurkiewicz. The right of Joanna Mazurkiewicz to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are product of the author’s imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author/publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine, journal or blog.

Table of content

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty-one

Chapter twenty-two

Chapter twenty-three

Chapter twenty-four

Chapter twenty-five

Chapter twenty-six

Chapter twenty-seven

Chapter twenty-eight

Chapter twenty-nine

Chapter one

Him

Present

We are here, yells my friend Dora, slamming unexpectedly on the brake pedal. The baggage on the top of the backseat falls over, hitting me in the back of my head. I curse silently, hoping that Dora can’t hear me. She knows that I don’t use this kind of language anymore.

That’s great, I mutter, massaging my scull. Dora beams, looking at me from the driver’s side. I chose to sit in the back hoping to catch up with some sleep, but my plan failed because Dora blasted music at full volume when we left Gargle, our hometown.

Oh my God, India, this is so exciting. We are finally here, she flaps with her high-pitched voice. Look at these buildings. Can you imagine what—

We both get out of the car while she talks. I know that I should be listening, but I can’t seem to focus today, and her monologue about the wild parties is always the same. An odd sensation brushes over me and I start to wonder why I’m not excited like Dora. We both have been counting the days to come to Braxton, and now I feel like I need to turn back. Maybe I’m not meant to go anywhere else but Gargle.

I take a few deep breaths and stretch my neck. Braxton University is the place where I always wanted to study. My mother and grandmother went here. Dora always wanted to live on her own; she has been talking about this ever since she was accepted.

Me, on the other hand, I just couldn’t wait to get away from my toxic past.

Dora is my best friend, but I’m not sure if I made the right decision to drag her here with me this time around. Her parents are wealthy, so she could go anywhere in England that she wanted to, but in the end she followed me.

Maybe she decided to come to Braxton because we always did everything together. We aren’t at all similar, but we have known each other for years and it’s just easy that way. Dora would be a distraction from all the important stuff that I planned to do this year. She wants to party and carry on with the life she had in Gargle. Me? I want to distance myself from the past and concentrate on things that matter.

I walk around the car and start taking my bags out of the boot. The sun is blazing in the sky, burning the nape of my neck. In a few weeks it will get cold; it’s surprising that the weather is still good in late September. But I feel an odd tension in the air, as if this peaceful day is going to be ruined by a thunderstorm. I notice heavy dark clouds starting to gather in the south.

Come on, India, let’s move. I want to check out the campus before it gets dark, Dora says, pulling me back to reality.

All right, chill out. The bags are heavy, I snap.

Oh, sorry, Miss Sensitive, she says, frowning. Why are you in such a bad mood today?

I’m fine. Cut it out. Just tired, I reply through tightly pursed lips. She waves her hand and starts walking. I bite my lips, knowing exactly what she is talking about. I was up late last night thinking about Christian, and the next day I’m never the same after doing that.

We left Gargle in the early afternoon. Mum insisted on packing tons of food for us. She still thinks that we won’t be able to cook a proper meal and we would be living on beans on toast. My little sister, Josephine, kept asking if she could come and visit me soon. She wants to see Braxton for herself. She is only fourteen, but she’s already heard stories about university life, and she can’t wait to taste the freedom for herself.

I take my bags and start following Dora. Her brown hair flows freely around her shoulders. She is walking towards the blocks of student apartments. I don’t know why, but my stomach makes a funny jolt when I see the buildings that stretch in front of us.

We cross the path walking towards the entrance. I switch my bag, as my arm starts to ache, and drag my main suitcase behind me. We both notice the group of students throwing the rugby ball to each other outside on the grass. Dora is already playing with her hair, pretending that she is struggling with her luggage, probably hoping that any of those blokes would give her a hand. I roll my eyes, ignoring her moans, and move ahead. For a brief moment I feel someone’s eyes on me, so I stop and turn around.

One of the guys who was throwing the ball is staring directly at me. His eyes squeeze shut and a fire spreads over my spine. He seems familiar, but I shake my head, knowing that I don’t know anyone in Braxton and the sudden blaze of heat is just in my imagination. Dora manages to get the attention of one of the guys and they start chatting away. This is just so typical of her.

Pass the ball, Jacob, someone shouts behind me. But I ignore that voice, even though it sounds so familiar, and it’s heating up the blood that runs through my body. I think about back home. Mum asked me to call her when we reach Braxton just to make sure that we arrived safely.

Then something hits me hard in the back of the head and I let go a loud Owww! and turn swiftly around. I spot the rugby ball on the grass and reach out to massage my head. I narrow my eyes, spotting the same guy who was staring at me a few second ago. He is smirking.

What’s your problem? I ask, my jaw tense with anger.

He doesn’t look sorry at all that he hit me with the ball. He is tall and muscular. His dark hair is cut close to his scalp. For some reason the special forces haircut suits him. He is too far ahead so I can’t see the color of his eyes, but his gaze is pulling me to him like he is made of a magnet. Jeans hang low on his hips and his white T-shirt is dirty, probably from rolling on the grass. I glance back at his friends, who are staring at me, startled. Something isn’t right here—he obviously wanted to hit me on purpose.

Well, who have we got here? Isn’t it the one and only, India Gretel? he says loudly, like he wants to make sure that everyone hears him.

Do I know you? I ask with impatience, eyeing him from head to toe. A large whacky grin appears on his handsome face. Something in his eyes tells me that we already met. His eyes harden on me as he picks up the ball and closes the gap between us. He has a wide jaw and full beautiful lips.

Don’t fucking tell me that you forgot about me already, Indi? he asks, smirking. Boys, let me introduce the biggest bitch that ever stepped into Braxton.

I blink rapidly, staring at him, digging all my memories out or anything that could tell me if I’ve seen him before, but I get nothing.

Oliver, who the hell is that? asks one of the guys walking up towards him. Dora probably notices my little show because she approaches me, looking equally confused.

India, who is that douchebag? she asks, frowning.

Oliver. That name rolls in my head like a snooker ball. It curls my toes and increases my heartbeat. It’s like a poison that crawls into my pores and wrecks my body. His name brings on both good and bad within me. It’s the name that I have been trying to forget for the past two years.

I stare at him like he isn’t really there and I’m hallucinating. My heart starts pounding, sending a signal to my brain to start running when he approaches me.

It’s not him; it can be.

I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are, I say, but my voice easily gives away my lie. The memories squirm back to me. The color of his eyes is the same. They are his eyes and I could never forget them. Deep blue, looking straight through me, touching down to my pain that his brother caused so many times. I cut the eye contact quickly enough and turn around but have trouble breathing.

I don’t know what makes you so dumb, but it really works, he shouts, and his friends laugh.

Hold on, India, is that—

Dora, I didn’t know that you were still friends with that witch?

Another insult that hurts more than the first one. The blood drains from my face and my body goes rigid. I try to count to control myself, but the warm guilt pours into my stomach like a hot lava. Dora recognizes him straightaway.

Oh my God, Oliver, is that really you? She chuckles. You’ve changed, she says. I look back at her, trying to give her a sign to move along, but she is standing there still staring at him.

He continues humiliating me. Do tell my friends here about yourself, Indi. We all enjoy good horror stories.

Dora, let’s go, I snap, even though I feel too numb to move. I clench my teeth and drag my feet forward, ignoring my skyrocketing pulse.

Oliver, you look hot, Dora sings flirtatiously. See you around.

She hurries after me. My stomach goes through a series of contractions as we walk through the building. My heart is pounding like it’s just about to explode. I need to take a deep breath and forget that I saw him. He was never supposed to go to Braxton. He isn’t here; it’s just my hallucination. I wish that I could change the past, but the tiny voice in my head tells me that I brought this on myself.

Past

Do you want to stay a bit longer, honey? Mum asked, touching my palm gently as if I were made of glass. We were alone; many people had already left. Mum was waiting to take me home, but I couldn’t move, watching the Bearers. They were lowering Christian’s coffin down to the ground, their faces stone cold. Soon no one was going to remember him and the things that he’d done. Soon he was going to be forgotten.

Heavy, grey clouds hung over our heads. I stared at the same spot for several minutes, seeing the demons of darkness and death. They approached me, crawling over my back and digging long needles through my heart.

Yes, I replied, not recognizing my own voice, which sounded empty. Christian’s mother had asked me to sit with her in front row. People were talking to me, but everything was like a blur. People came, then left, but I was still there hurting.

Mum didn’t say anymore. She got up and left me with my own nightmare, maybe because it was easier that way. I stared back as the coffin disappeared into the ground, and I was glad that he was dead. A few days had passed since the party at Christian’s home. I still hadn’t told anyone about what happened. When he dropped me home I’d gone straight to my bedroom and cried. Christian had been an ideal teenager, but a few weeks before his death he turned into a psychopath. He knew throughout the years that I didn’t feel the same way about him, that I wanted only friendship, but he kept this knowledge under control until the party—then he lost it. He was devious, making sure that no one noticed anything.

My mother had knocked around midnight. For several minutes she was silent, then she gave me the news. Christian had a car accident and he died in the hospital. Then she hugged me and told me to let it all go. I sobbed, feeling sorrow along with an incredible relief filling me up slowly. Part of me wanted him to be dead, the other part still cared for him.

My wish had come true a few hours after he hurt me.

Then it was the funeral, and I was standing there glad that he was out of my life. I didn’t know how I was going to deal with the pain and those cruel memories. He destroyed me; then he disappeared.

Christian was gone; he took his vicious and sadistic part of him to the grave, but he left me with emotional scars and a nightmare that I will never forget.

India.

It was Oliver. I didn’t even notice when he approached me, but I recognized his voice straightaway. He stood beside me for a moment, and my anger and agitation grew. I turned to face him.

What do you want, Oliver? I snapped. His long dark hair hung over his shoulders; his eyes peered at me from beneath long black eyelashes. He was wearing a long black Goth coat.

I just wanted to make sure that you’re all right, he said, placing his hand on my arm. I clenched my fists and tensed my body. Pure rage started coursing through my bloodstream. Oliver was the one that was supposed to be at that party. If he had shown up like he promised, I would never have had to go through that nightmare. It was all his fault.

He is gone, Oliver. You don’t need to check on me. You don’t have to be around me anymore, I shouted. My heart was pounding, but I felt so much better as soon as I said it.

Come on, India, I know you are hurting, but he was my brother and I’ll miss him, too. He moved closer. I pulled away and got up, stomping away from him.

I hate you, Oliver. I fucking hate your guts, I yelled. Just stay away from me. I don’t want you anywhere near me.

He stood there looking at me as if I were speaking in a different language. His eyes darkened and he looked away. I felt better pushing him away. Fighting with him and hurting him was like a therapy. I felt released.

Indi, I don’t get it—

You don’t need to get anything, Oliver. I swear that I’ll make your life difficult if you don’t stay away. I mean it. Christian is dead and we are done.

I turned and walked away, leaving him next to his dead brother. Before the party, I would have thrown myself into his arms and told him that we had to be strong now. But that was then. Now I was in pieces.

Chapter two

Back to square one

Present

Can you believe that it was him? Dora asks for the fourth time, pacing around the room. I try to take a long deep breath, hoping the nausea will pass, but I feel like I’m going to throw up at any second. My heart is still pounding, pumping way too much blood to my head. In a matter of seconds the past is crushing me, and Christian’s body is lying next to me. Everything is falling apart.

No, I can’t, I reply with an uneasy tone. What the hell is he even doing here? He was supposed to be in Edinburgh.

She looks at me, tossing her brown hair behind her. Dora is a beautiful girl with brown eyes and long thick eyelashes. She is short, only five foot four, a petite woman with a sharp tongue. She doesn’t let people walk over her.

That’s what we all heard, but he obviously didn’t go to Scotland, she mutters. He looks so hot. And did you see his muscles? I never knew that he worked out.

The panic passes through my body. This wasn’t the Oliver that I used to know. The one from the past was this unpopular, nerdy teenager that everyone used to make fun of. He was always in the shadow of his brother. Today I just met a new Oliver—strong, gorgeous, and confident. And Oliver remembers; he never forgot how I used to bully him.

I guess he looks better, I mumble, trying to take my mind off the man outside our building. Only a few minutes ago we got the keys to our apartment, but Dora doesn’t seem to care. She wants to know everything about the new gorgeous Oliver and the transformation that he went through.

She flops on the sofa staring at me with her mouth wide open. Are you blind, India? Can you not see how much he’s changed? He is so much handsomer than Christian, she hisses. Besides, our group in high school gave him a hard time. I always wondered—why did you hate him so much?

It was never about hating him. He just annoyed me, I tell her, although we both know that it’s a lie. She is right. I hated him because he wasn’t there for me when I needed him the most.

Bullshit, India. It all started after Christian— She goes silent, not finishing that sentence that always makes me mad. She knows that I don’t react well when she mentions Oliver’s brother, Christian.

After the accident, I say quietly. The uncomfortable silence blows out around us. I’ve forbidden her from talking about him. When people remind me about him I become a different person, cruel and defensive. No one knows what happened, even Dora. She thinks that I changed because I lost him.

Yeah, after that, she says, scratching her head. I don’t like that new you. The old India was more fun.

I don’t respond, pretending to look around our new apartment. I intend to not talk about my past for the rest of the day. Oliver is in Braxton and I need to try to deal with this the best I can. Dora needs to understand that the old India has gone, and she is never coming back.

Dora starts talking about something else, and I’m glad that she ditches that uncomfortable subject. An hour later, she vanishes into her bedroom to deal with unpacking.

Dora’s mum and dad divorced when she was around ten, and since then she has been floating between both parents. I don’t think that she ever got over the fact that her parents split up. Her father couldn’t see her that often, so he made sure that he gave her money to make up for the lost time. Back in high school Dora had the best clothes and the latest technological gadgets that everyone else could only dream of. She never had to chase after guys. She was popular and never had a problem with dates. We were close, but only two years ago I found out that she was suffering from depression and anxiety. She was seeing a psychologist occasionally. Apparently it had something to do with the fact that her dad wasn’t around.

We’ve been friends for years, but I have never seen her in any distress. Maybe it’s because she ditched school quite a lot. When she was absent, she never returned any of her phone calls and her mother never let me in, saying that Dora didn’t wish to see anyone.

Today I leave her alone. Then after a few hours I gently knock on her door and enter. She is sorting her clothes, muttering something about the shoes and the size of the wardrobe. She has to have everything sorted exactly the way she wants, which means that she can’t stand a mess. Even her underwear drawer is folded alphabetically.

We kind of bonded in primary school, when my father died. After that, it was only me, Mum, and my little sister, Josephine. My father had a heart attack, and his death nearly cost Mum her job. She didn’t leave her room for days. Then she started drinking. She never used to drink, but a few weeks after the funeral she had to have several glasses of wine every evening. It wasn’t a pretty time, but we managed to get through it. After her boss told her that she would lose her job, Mum finally stopped drowning her grief in alcohol. That day she changed, and we had her back.

When Dora finally emerges from her room, it’s early evening. I know that all her clothes have been folded in the wardrobe by then. She is sort of weird like that, sitting on her own for hours. Deep down I know that she’s going through some emotional whiplash. I don’t disturb her. I let her take her time.

What are you wearing? she asks narrowing her eyes and pointing at my outfit. I look down at my old jeans and ugly T-shirt that’s more grey than yellow. Yes, I look like a tramp, but who cares? It’s only Dora and me.

Comfortable clothes. Why?

Because we’re going out for food, she says, staring at her reflection in the mirror. I automatically cringe and consider staying in the apartment on my own. I’m not comfortable going out, knowing that he is out there.

I don’t want to go out. It’s our first night here, I protest.

That’s the point. We didn’t come here to sit around. We are here to party, so get that sexy arse of yours to the bathroom. She smirks, pushing me towards my room.

I pull my caramel hair into a messy knot with one hand, tapping my fingers on the edge of the table with the other. Recently I have been doing this more often; this small ritual kind of calms me down—until the memories of the party come flashing back to my brain.

I’m not bad looking; people have always told me that I’m pretty. I have long wavy hair that I straighten often and green eyes. I’ve got very fair skin with millions of freckles around my nose and cheeks, which tend to be embarrassing when people point that out. My self-esteem used to be high, but now it’s all like mushy peas. All because of Oliver’s brother, Christian.

I pull skinny jeans over my long legs and put a low-cut top on. I stopped using makeup two years ago, but tonight Dora wants me to become the old India, the one from high school. Ruthless and flirtatious, the kind of girl that she expects me to be. I went through a transformation after Oliver left to go to University. He was nearly two years older than me, and as soon as he graduated high school, he took an offer of a scholarship in Scotland and vanished from Gargle. I’d lost him, so I stopped being cruel, wild and obnoxious towards others. He wasn’t around anymore, so I couldn’t pour out my frustration on anyone else anymore.

During that year, I quieted down and understood that I pushed him away, hurt him and ruined his life. It was time for me to share my secret with him, but then it was too late, because he was already gone and no one knew if he

Reviews for All About You (Love & Hate series #1)

[gloria.herrera · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

It seems to me our world has changed so much since I was of college age. Now, young women have to deal with a lot of problems that somehow never affected me when I was their age.

This is the case with India. She has already survived abuse of the worst kind at the hands of her high school boyfriend Christian. She has even survived the death of Christian and the implosion of her feelings for Oliver, Christian's brother.

She has been trying to pull herself together and move on with her life. She has kept the secret of Christian's abuse all this time. Only one other person knows the truth... Christian's mother. She has also kept the secret and never shared it. Not even India's mother knows what Christian did to India.

Now that Oliver and India are both at the same college, I was hoping that somehow they would bridge the hate gap that developed after Christian's death. India has a lot to account for since she was the one who hurt Oliver; bullied him and drove him to this hate relationship with her.

The love affair that develops between India and Oliver is heartwarming. Just when I thought things were going to work out for them...OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!! The biggest plot twist of them all!

I warn you, this ends in a cliffhanger ... heart wrenching! All About Me will be the sequel. It is my hope our author will produce this gem in the near future and will not leave us hanging for a long time.

[Krystle · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

This book was so bad. The writing was terrible, NONE of the characters were likable, and the plot was stupid. India was a weak character and Oliver was not worthy of being a love interest. Dora was annoying and wanted to know everything about and control India’s life and decide what was best for her. I really wasted my time reading trash. This book is a great example that anybody can write a book but not all people can write a good book.

[Cindy Kennebeck Engmark · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Great story keeps you thinking
Could not stop reading

[reviewsinapinch · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Oh sweet revenge. It really seems to be a dish best served cold, if you’re cruel. I don’t think I could keep my attention span focused on hating someone for years. Then again when I get mad, I’m over it by the next morning.Something like All About You is something that I have to be in the right mindset to read. All of the anger and revenge-esque plots can be a bit much if I’m in a happy go-lucky mood. For the record, I was in the right mindset when I read All About You.The plot was not overly impressive. I felt constantly irritated with the way the author slowly doled out bits of pertinent information. It’s very hard as a reader to sympathize and/or empathize with a character when we have no idea what the motivation is behind dominating emotions (anger, fear and hate in this case). I’m still not clear on what happened, which I’m pretty sure was what the author intended. However, it didn’t leave me wanting to pick up the next book to find out what happens.I did like All About You and was suitably entertained while reading it. When it comes down to the brass tacks, I would not recommend it. However, it is free (as of the 5/2/14), so if you decided to read it you won’t be losing any money.For more reviews, check out reviewsinapinch.wordpress.com today!

[roosterpalacexx · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

Terrible.