LOVE TO HATE ME | JENLISA

Chapter 1

Jennie

Some people say that there's a thin line between love and hate, and for a time, I believed them. But I'm here to tell you that line on the side of love doesn't exist when it comes to her. It never did. Its entire existence became benign, non-existent because I believe if you hate someone with every atom of your being, then it leaves no room for anything else. I hate Lisa Manoban. I hate her.

Simple as that. Lisa is a snotty, know-it-all soccer player that had one class with me, which happened to be my first period. Honestly, it was the Devil's work. It had to be. Not only did she absolutely wreak havoc in my Honours English class, but she ruined my mornings as well. It didn't help that everyone adored her because of some record or because she played forward in soccer. I am not even interested to find out why people love her.

We were the home of the Vikings - the great warriors, and Lisa Manoban made the school's soccer team proud and blah, blah, blah. Our poor Honours teacher, Mrs. Lee, was usually the witness to our fights, debates, and the way we brought each of her lessons to a screeching halt as we attacked each other's points or opinions.

However, Mrs. Lee and our other classmates were more than entertained by our daily quibbling. A student even brought a bucket of popcorn with him once, while others claimed we made them eager to come to school. Lisa wasn't just the school's star athlete, but she was also incredibly intelligent. A book-savvy athlete who didn't give a shit if anyone saw her studying or working hard in the library.

Just another notch on her academic post and résumé that everyone fawned over. The teachers patted her back, her friends high-fived her in the halls, and the girls oohed and awed while tossing their panties at her during her games. Lisa didn't date. She didn't do girlfriends, but that didn't stop the girls from throwing themselves at her like she was the last human specimen to walk this planet. Lisa was put on a high pedestal because she won a few awards and medals for her acrobatic performances.

I wasn't jealous; of course, I was just as good as she was in every aspect, maybe except the athletic part. I didn't have a single athletic bone in my entire body. I was the student that people would describe with too much school spirit. I was Valedictorian, the classmate that organised bake sales, charity events, fundraisers, helped newcomers with orientation, and planned and detailed every school event.

I did that, and everyone knew me just as much as they knew her. The school had an ongoing joke that we fought because we chose to argue rather than have sex. As if that was what I needed, to have sex with Lisa Manoban. The thought always made me gag, but other than the bile rising in my throat, it made me absolutely furious that people assumed we had some sort of tension when all we had was a competitive streak with one another.

I mean, albeit it was far from natural, it was still just a competitive streak.

We both loved to win. We both loved to be right. And we both hated, fucking hated losing. So we jumped at each other's throats with every opportunity we had. Even though we only shared Mrs. Lee's class, I still saw Lisa Manoban around campus and at events that the soccer team would have to show up in, which was every single event.

The school advertised her so much that they were automatically invited to every event I planned and organised. So she wasn't just ruining my mornings like at the beginning of the year, but my entire day too - especially now that we were nearing the end of the year and I was planning the end of the year trips and dances.

Lisa Manoban was every girl's fantasy. Smart, soccer player, adored by all, and handsome. As much as I hated to admit the last one, Lisa Manoban was a very, very attractive person. Yes, I said that, because of how she was built, spoke, and carried herself. Attractive was the only word I could use, and even then, I felt like it did nothing.

Lisa had tawny-coloured brown wavy hair that she always wore messy without any gel to pull it back or hold it down. Her hair wasn't a full brown because how it looked in the sun was almost like warm honey. Her eyes were pools of jade and toffee; all swirled together in an almost magnetic way with dark brows. Her face sported that cut jawline, her dimpled chin, and her downward turned primrose-coloured lips. Her body wasn't overwhelmingly muscular, but she was exceedingly tall. Her protruding muscles were in all the right places for a soccer player. Her legs. Her core. Her chest. Damn it. Her arms too.

Happy? Now that I have described how gorgeous Lisa is...

It didn't help that she was Thai and that she sometimes rambled on in Thai, turning heads along the way, while giving me an arrogant shrug of her shoulders because I couldn't understand a single word. Which was what she was giving me right now as we argued over if the actions of Cheryl Strayed in 'Wild' were justified.

The heroine, leaving her husband, and the infidelity. Of course, they weren't justified, and I was furious that she thought since her mother had died of cancer, that she was allowed to express how she felt by experimenting with drugs and having sex with some crackhead named Joe who was the one that had roped her into trying the heroine to begin with. I didn't think that, and I would dispute every fact or word that Lisa spoke until I had the last word.

"Everyone mourns differently." She spoke, her voice equally as smooth as the rest of her. Lisa was charming, and she knew how to get what she wanted when she wanted. Her facial expression around me was haughty, like always like she was in on some inside joke that I couldn't possibly understand. It was self-righteous, but that's just the type of person Lisa was. If I didn't hate her so much, I think I would admire her confidence.

"Some people laugh when they hear someone die, others don't cry, and some stay in denial. Infidelity and drugs aren't coping mechanisms. She used them as a fu... freaking excuse to push away Paul if you ask me. C'mon Lisa. You're supposed to be smart. Give me something else."

Lisa never let what I said get to her during heated arguments or debates. If it's one thing I actually admired from her, it's that she never, ever lets anyone see her falter. Her face was always composed. Smiling, aloof, arrogant.

"You can't think from your perspective because it's biased. You have to see it how she saw it, as an escape." She shook her head as we glared at each other from across the room. I wanted to rip my hair out of my hands at her stupidity. "She used the hike as a rebirth. That's a form of ESCAPING, you idiot."

"It wasn't a rebirth. You're overthinking her dialogue. You need to take into account what she felt emotionally and mentally due to the passing of her mother, and then you'll understand why she pushed Paul away." Lisa countered. "C'mon, kitten. You're supposed to be just as smart, if not more."

I rolled my eyes at the stupid nickname that she's been calling me all year but stood my ground in defiance. She thought it was hilarious because I was barely five feet, five inches, and had to break my neck just to look up at her.

"She literally calls it a transformation because the hike and all the other traumatising events she went through along the way had her realising who she was and what she wanted from life. Her mother died of cancer and that was what set her off. I might understand the pushing away her husband by her having an affair, but that barely justifies her actions. Barely."

"It's her way of healing, and some heal through making mistakes. You can't justify her actions that were done when she was at her most vulnerable. It's unfair to her character and unfair to her mental state."

"Healing and transforming are synonyms, you idiot."

She shook her head furiously, "They are not synonyms."

"Somebody grab the thesaurus!" We both shouted at the same time.

"Okay, okay. As lovely as this was, maybe we should take a moment and breathe. You both have made fascinating points, but I would like to hear your classmates' thoughts as well. Now, sit down." Mrs. Lee cuts us both off, her hands both coming up to halt us from doing or saying anything else.