Hate Means Love.

One

I was 16 when we started to be more than just friends. Or should I say frenemies, since we did hate each other. But that was way back then.

It was the end of summer, and I was going into my junior year. Lately I had been going through a lot. People were leaving me, noone understood me, and I was lonelier than ever. My confidence was at an all time low. It had never really been at a high peak anyways.

But let's get straight to the point.

I couldn't sleep one night, so I headed outside and walked through the park near the back of my house to my secret personal place.

It was a beautiful paradise to me. There's a beach with pretty clear water and palm trees all around. Since I'm one of the only ones who come here, I leave some blankets hidden in the bushes towards the woods. My parents, my siblings and I live on the west coast near the pacific ocean. California beaches are what I call home.

I had been caught up in my depression so much that I forgot about this place. That night, when I came to my secret beach, someone was there. A guy. It was too dark to see his face to know who he was. I went over to the bushes, got my blanket, and layed down.

The guy appeared to be looking in my direction so I got a bit creeped out. I just kept calm and sat still, but breathing heavily. I hope he couldn't hear me and sense my fear. I'm such a scaredy cat. Awkward.

"Vanessa?" he says clearly.

I really didn't know what to say. I had no idea who this guy was. I started to look at him, concentrating and looking closely.... and I recognized him. Vernado. The guy who teased me all throughout elementary school.