Love to Hate You • E.D.

Three

"Didn't your mom ever teach you not to fucking stare?" I shoot, not even turning my attention towards him.

"What can I say? I like to admire art." I slam my locker shut whipping my head at him.

"Would you actually shut the fuck up? Like seriously." I huff in frustration and his features soften slightly.

"Car's in the back lot, follow me." He says stiffly turning on his heel. I follow him, absolutely fuming and wondering why I'm even still going with him.

"Where's the rest of the jerk off squad?" I ask as we approach his car, which was pretty damn nice.

"They all went with Cameron, it'll just be you and me, sugar." I walk around to the passenger side as he unlocks the car.

"Oh, I'm such a lucky gal!" I exclaim in sarcastic excitement.

Ethan braces his arm on the opened car door, his other on the roof.

"You know, I actually made sure they weren't gonna be around, because I knew you'd be more pissy around them then you already are around me. So be a little thankful okay?" He raises his eyebrows in a mocking way.

I'm actually taken aback by what he says, not sure if he cared more about the project or us being alone.

"Alright, thanks." I slide into the car, sitting stiffly.

"Don't worry, I won't bite unless you ask me to." He says and he backs out of the parking space.

It's going to be a long fucking afternoon.

We pull up to his enormous house, making our way to the back door.

"My parents aren't coming home until later, so we won't have any distractions."

I was actually praying we would. Making our way upstairs, we walk down the hall turning into the second door on the left.

"Make yourself cozy, if you can. It's all clean so you won't have to burn your clothes." He gave me a quick glance and he tossed his bookbag on his bed.

It actually was surprising...perfect. The room was clean, it didn't smell, everything had its own specific place and position, and his freaking bed was even made. I really hate to admit it but I was actually impressed. I took a seat in his computer chair as he flopped onto the bed.

"There's plenty of room, babe." He said running his hand over the empty space beside him.

"I'm just fine thanks." I replied giving him a cold smile.

"Now, what exactly don't you understand?" I asked opening my laptop.

"To be honest, the whole fucking thing." He replied, and I peered at him over my screen.

"Are you serious?"

"Dead." By the look on his face, I could tell he was.

"We're doing a powerpoint on a specific president, what's so hard about that?"

He shrugged shifting his gaze to his sheets. I huffed.

"Who's your president?" I pressed.

Once again, he shrugged.

"Ethan are you actually fucking serious?!"

"Yeah I am!" He shot back, catching me off guard.

"I told you I don't give a shit about this stuff but my parents do! They're pissed about my grades and if I don't bring them up they're cutting out all social media, permanently." He actually looked hurt.