Hate Notes

Chapter 1

        I was going to repeat what I said fifteen years ago: Jesse Price is a monster.

        Staring holes at him through my window was not the good morning I thought it would be, but then again, I had never had a good morning ever since he moved his publishing company right next to my shop two years ago. It made me despised him even more. Seeing him frustrated me, and I never thought I had to deal with him being my neighbour next door.

I roughly munched on the fries I was eating, sending daggers through Jesse's back as my wide windows gave me the perfect view of him standing next to his car, talking to the baker woman next door, Mrs. Allen. I saw the box of goodies she gave him every morning, pampering him like he was a lonely kid who needed love and attention. That was who Jesse was. He attracted the good people because he made himself look good to them. Everyone in the block freaking loved him. Everyone had something nice to say about him, and I remained the bitter and hateful woman who had a lot of bad things to say about him.

No one knew why. None of them were interested in knowing the reason behind my intense hatred for the man, which may seem riddiculous for a twenty five year old to hold a grduge. A lot of people had told me to grow up, to stop bickering, and to be more matured. They had a lot to say, but they had no idea how I have been feeling my entire life.

        Jesse was the person who took everything from me; my family, my first kiss, my first dance, my virginity, and he was the one who gave me my first heartbreak. He was the person who took fifteen years of my life. He stole everything from me and yet, I was the one who couldn't let go of the past. I was the one who was swimming in hatred, drowning in my ugly feelings. I was the one who ruin family gatherings because I couldn't pretend to like him. He was the one people invited first, and I was the one they dreaded to invite. In short, Jesse had ruined my life for fifteen years, and he was still ruining it. I was twenty-five, but I still felt like that little girl who wanted to run off to her room and cry because Jesse Price had hurt her feelings.

        It embarrassed me, the emotions he evoked inside me, and the person he turns me into. It was not my fault. It had never been my fault. Jesse wasn't nice. He was mean and cruel, and he knew the right words to press my buttons. It was the face he had shown me all these years, but different from the one he lets everyone see.

        I continued to stare at him despite feeling the urge to turn away. He was like a tick that won't go away until I lose my mind, and I was starting to lose my mind the longer my eyes lingered.

        I nearly jumped out of my skin when the phone next to me started to ring. Cursing, I ignored it and walked around the counter to throw the rest of the uneaten fries into the trash. I walked to the window and pressed my plams into it. There were times in life when everything sort of slows down, all your senses go on high alert and you see everything clearly. This was one of them. The world slowed down, and I was seeing him perfectly clear. I was seeing his big muscled body hidden under his white t-shirt and a blazer. He was a man who didn't care about wearing suits, on any occasion.

       In an instant, almost as if he could feel my burning gaze melting through his expensive clothes to sink into his skin, he turned and locked eyes with me. I should have been ashamed that I was caught staring, but I couldn't help it. Those eyes, deep-set and brown were alluring and gravitating towards every common sense I possessed. Squared jaw and cheekbones that cut like ice. His hair was still glossy, even after so many years. Emotions that I didn't want to deal with swept up at a startling rate and my throat choked up.

        As he stared at me, he wore a mixture of amusement and confusion, probably wondering why I was staring at him so deeply and immensely. Probably wondering if I was stripping him bare or recalling that drunk night. Sweaty body. Harsh breaths. Panting. Naked skin. Moans and groans. Whispered words I couldn't remember. Images that were blurry to me. Neither one of us ever dared to bring up that night. I already felt like burying myself when I woke up in tangled sheets and a nearly naked man had walked out of the bathroom.