The Bad Boy's Good Girl

11. "I Hate You."

NOT EDITED

I see you driving 'round town with the girl I love

And I'm like, fuck you

(Fuck You - Cee Lo Green)

Hell.

That's what I've been going through this past week.

Even Oliver can't look in my direction without pity in his eyes. I hardly need anyone's pity. So what if he bluntly told me he didn't care about me and never will? I mean, it may be true, but that doesn't mean I go around wallowing in my own self - pity.

That is a tempting, yet ridiculous idea.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I walk through the empty halls. Stupid teacher for sending me out to get photocopies. Someone already got them.

Seriously?

I trudge down the empty corridor, keeping my eyes down. That is, until I crash into something exceptionally hard.

That's what she said.

Back onto the point, I hit my bum rather harshly when I fall. Who in their right minds builds a wall in the middle of the corridor? 

Someone stupid, that's who.

I groan slightly. Ouch. I'll need to take some Tylenol when I get home.

I look forward to see jean - clad legs in front of me. "Sorry," I squeak out. 

There's a sigh. "Can you move? I would really like to get to class." I nearly choke on my own spit. I'd know that voice anywhere.

Drew.

Looking up, I gulp audibly. He sighs, running his hands through his hair. I'm quick to scramble up, not wanting to annoy him.

"O - okay," I whisper. I let out a small groan of pain when I turn away. 

"Are you okay?" He blurts out, catching my wrist. I glare up at him; I thought he didn't care and never will?

"Let go," I try to tug my wrist out of his grasp. "Drew, let go."

"Answer the question," he whispers.

"No," I look up at him. His expression is pained. "Just let go."

"You know you don't want me to, Dylan," and, there it is - the arrogant, cocky boy I'm falling for. "You want me to hold on, and never let go."

Why do I feel like there's a double meaning behind this?

I shake my head, tears quickly blurring my vision. It's true - I want him to hold onto me and never let go. "Drew, let me-"

"Admit it, Dylan, you want me to never leave you alone," well, this conversation escalated quickly. 

"No."

"Dylan-"

"I hate you!" I lash out. "You walk around like nothing fazes you, like every word you said to me was true. I hate you, Drew Steele, I really do."

He's quiet for a moment, his fingers frozen around my wrist. I grit my teeth to stop the tears from falling.

I.

Am.

Not.

Weak.

"No, you don't," he finally says. He's right - I don't. "You don't hate me, Dylan. You hate what I did to you."

If we're going to let go of our friendship. might as well do it now. "I hate what you did to me, and I hate you. You don't know me, Drew. And I don't think you ever will."