Have you ever hurled a glass into a fireplace?
It looks awesome. The glass shatters in a million pieces, and if you look closely, for a second you can catch the dancing flames reflected in them before fire swallows them, erupting with strength. It's fascinating – watching it create something so magically beautiful as it breaks.
I grabbed another glass, pouring bourbon and taking a slow, thoughtful sip, twirling it around in my mouth and wincing as the sting of alcohol reached the inside of my cheek which I was biting earlier. Guess it was harder than I thought.
You know, this phrase can perfectly summarize my year. I smirked humorlessly, toasting to the hollow living room, back to watching the fire as I got drunk. Because that was the plan.
Get completely shit-faced until I couldn't remember who Tori Vega was.
Ah, dammit. The sneaky brunette slid into my thoughts again, and I squeezed the glass harder, willing myself to stop imagining her in my head. But now that she was in, I was never gonna get her out.
It was supposed to be simple. I hated the girl, she was afraid of me. I liked it that way, I wanted it to stay that way. But then she had to go and start hating me back, and of course my demented brain decided that it was the perfect moment to realize that maybe, just maybe I hated her so much to hide what really was underneath.
Because when you hate someone, usually it's the beginning of a love story, not the end of one.
During our senior year in Hollywood Arts, we actually became sworn enemies, holding no punches back. She finally realized that a gank like me wasn't worthy of her friendship, and I finally realized that Tori Vega had to go, for good, because all those confusing feelings and thoughts in my head were keeping me up at night.
And so the war began, dragging our friends in the middle of it and resulting in many horrible things.
She accidently landed Robbie in hospital when planning a prank on me, you know.
I got Trina kicked out of Hollywood Arts for good, deciding to focus on the ones she loved, because that was where I could hurt her the most.
And then it's Christmas, we're at Beck's party even though both of us weren't invited, and we're drunk and screaming at each other. She hurls a half-empty bottle of vodka at me, I duck and pin her to the door, our breathing heavy, fueled by anger, and the next second we're kissing like our life depends on it, stopping only to rip away the annoying clothes that stood between us.
The hate turns to lust, and as we nod at each other with cold politeness in the hallways, we imagine the angry sex we are sure to be having in janitor's closet during lunch period.
It goes on for days, and days turn into weeks, and somewhere along the lines, I find myself helping her out when she is hit hard with her parents' divorce. As she clings to me at the darkest hour of the night, having run away from home, I listen to her deep breathing, and I realize I never once allowed anyone to stay with me in bed. But here I am, cuddling with the girl I'm supposed to hate, and the only thought in my mind is how unbelievably soft she is.
This night was a breaking point for me, because afterwards, I couldn't bring myself to hurt her anymore. And she noticed.
She noticed and completely misunderstood, because a week later, she shows up at my house, a duffel bag in her hand and her usual perky 'Tori' smile, stating that she's so glad we're are finally friends, and now we can put the anger and lust and all the tension behind. And as I see her looking so fucking happy for the first time in months, I can't allow myself to ruin it for her by uttering those pathetic three little words that are bubbling in my chest.
