Hate You // Dean Portman

Friday Night

Dean and I had finish reading the few scenes from Romeo and Juliet that we were assigned. We didn't meet up during study hall but I promised him that I would finish up the presentation and we would have it ready by Monday.

The wind blew through my window as I wrote down the analysis on paper. That's when there was a knock on the door.

I got up and opened it to see Dean standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here? I told you I would have it done by Monday." I say.

"I know," He said, walking in. "I just thought I should help."

"With what?" I shrug. "The analysis is pretty much done." I grab the paper on my desk and show him.

"Well, we should go over it right." He says. "You know, for the presentation-"

"Dean, why are you here?" I cross my arms.

"I told you. I didn't just want you to do all the work. All I did was read the story," he exclaimed while grabbing my paper. "I wanna contribute more so you don't think i'm ignorant."

"Dean, it's not about ignorance. It's just that I like things to go my way and my way only." I reply, snatching the paper back.

His eyes widened and he shook his head. "There is absolutely nothing you want me to do?"

I shrug. "Just show up in class tomorrow. That's all I ask."

He shrugged and nodded.

"Now not to make you feel like your being officious towards me, but can you please leave?"

"Officious?" Dean says as he starts looking at my vinyls on the vinyl stand that sat upon the dresser. "The hell does that mean?" He didn't look up at me.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Doesn't matter. What are you doing?"

"You listen to Nirvana?" He questions as he browses through my records.

"Uh no. Do I look like someone who would listen to that?" I cross my arms.

"No, you don't." He turned around. "But I thought since you collect vinyls you would at least have some taste in music."

My eye twitched at his comment.

"I have taste."

"Not good taste." He chuckled. "Best thing you got in here is Louis Armstrong, and i'm not even into jazz." The boy continued to browse. "The hell is Tach-ack-ofsky?"

"Tchaikovsky. He is a classical musician which you probably never heard of because you literally have an IQ of 3." I shove the vinyl back in the stand then glare at him.

"I don't even know what an IQ is."

"Exactly," I snap. "Get out."

Dean couldn't help but chuckle at my brashness. "Who even listens to classical music nowadays?"

"People who have high IQs and are appreciative of vintage forms of art which is what our modern society has built off of that ACTUALLY like hearing about the philosophical aspect of the deepest thoughts of our civilization."

Dean smirked. "Why are you so pissy all of a sudden, princess?"

Dean leaned closer to my face. Our eyes never looking away from one another's.

"Please. Get. Out."

He glanced down then back into my pure soul. "What ever you say." The smirk never left his face and he started to make his way out the door.

"Maybe next time I see you I should get you into Nirvana."

"I don't want your Nirvana." I shut the door in his face.