Hate That I Love You

Chapter 4

Harry got into the car by now at half past six in the evening, exhausted from the day's work. "Paul, take me home," he ordered the man, already positioned in the front seat of the car.  "Today I am very tired and at seven it's necessary that I have dinner."

"Right away sir" smiled the man. "Anyway, Mr. Tomlinson ..."

"Paul," Harry stopped him. "What did I tell you you have to call him?" he took it back.

"Oh, sure," Paul chuckled. "I was saying, someone left a package for you."

"For me?" he asked as the car pulled away and pulled slowly out onto the street.

"Yes, you can find it under my seat, sir," he informed him. "I preferred to hide it, you know, in case your father needed me."

"Thank you very much, Paul," Harry smiled. The boy soon reached down to take the square package, which was in an elegant black and white envelope, and took it out. First of all he found a note, written in elegant and subtle handwriting, in italics. Harry found himself thinking that at least, the boor had decent handwriting.

"I didn't have time to give it to my previous prostitute, and therefore, now, I don't know what to do with it. I thought it might be useful to you, at least I hope so. L."

Harry shook his head, smiling. "What an idiot," he muttered. Soon after, he pulled out the package and slowly opened it. He raised an eyebrow when he found himself in front of a pair of Brazilians in black lace, complete with a white bow between the line that divided the two buttocks. "I think that someone has serious mental problems," Harry said grabbing the piece of cloth and lifting it up.

Paul found himself laughing, looking at the gift through the mirror. "Or, that someone has a great desire for you, sir."

Laughing, this time, it was Harry who let out a very amused laugh. "I don't think so, Paul. Me and that someone hate each other."

"You have a strange way of showing it, then. Young people today, who understands them? If they hate each other they make love, and if they love each other, they make war."

"Don't mix everyone else in this, Paul," Harry shook his head. "There are more normal people in the world than me."

"Could that someone be more normal?" then asked the driver.

"What do you mean?" he asked puzzled.

"In the sense, he also makes love because he hates?"

"He loves sex," he shrugged. "He would do it with anyone."

"I understand," he nodded. "He looks like a good boy, sir."

"He is an idiot, ignorant, nuisance and an imbecile. He turns to the bodies of men and women and cannot understand which side he prefers to be on. He does not want to do anything but have fun and go around clubs, without having any responsibility and duty to anyone. He's just lucky to find the road cleared ahead, otherwise he wouldn't get anywhere. "

Paul smiled. "Then you really hate him," he said.

"Sure!"  he exclaimed. "I'm a Styles and he's a Tomlinson, we can't help but hate each other. Let's not say bullshit about good friends, not who has ever believed anyone."

"It was just a curiosity," he shrugged. "You know, usually, when I don't care for a person, I don't hate, sir. I don't care," he explained.

"Hate is a symbol of interest, and I don't waste my energy on someone who isn't worth it. But, on the other hand, the world is beautiful because it is diverse, isn't it?"

Harry bit his lip. "Yes," he whispered. "It is beautiful because it is diverse."