I Hate You

07. "make me"

As the week progresses I find it unbearably hard to be in the same room as him. I'm always trying to stay on task and he would just throw paper clips at me or distract me by drumming on the table with his pencils. It's so immature and it's like he enjoys seeing me angry, which is why I can't let him win. I see him in the lunch line today and I avoid him.

Instead, I join Max and her boyfriend for lunch. I vent to her about Brandon's irritating presence and she continues to tell me I'm overreacting. Her boyfriend and she were getting particularly handsy after that and it was making me queasy so I decided to leave.

I quickly finish up my turkey sandwich and rush over upstairs to the conference room for an important meeting with the director.

It goes fairly smoothly, considering Brandon waltzed in 9 minutes late and was fidgeting with the papers the whole time.

After we get out my supervisor, Sophie, asks to talk to me which strikes an immense amount of anxiety inside me. "This is just not like you, you are usually so professional, Jess." I compose myself and keep my cool while she tells me the worst news I could possibly receive today.

I keep my cool all the way until I finally reach my office door.

"I cannot believe you complained to my boss about me." I storm in.

"Um, you forget she's our boss" Brandon nonchalantly twirls around in his office chair.

"You told her I was bullying you?" I question him and he lets out a snort. "If you think you're getting away with this—"

"Well to be fair you have been acting pretty mean to me you gotta admit." He shrugs. "I mean the death stares, gossiping about me, avoiding me." He goes on.

"Because you are impossible to work with." I snap.

"I think you are just deflecting and that's not the real reason you claim to hate me for." He is alarmingly calm in my angered state. I feel the blood rush through my veins and my cheeks heat up to the complexion of a strawberry.

I tried so hard to be mature with this guy but it's proving to be aggravatingly difficult. I hate that he brings out the worst in me.

I slowly inch towards him with my fists clenched and a furious expression on my face. However, it stirs even more anger inside of me, like that was possible, when I see his annoying smirk. As if he expects I will do no harm to him. He doesn't even bat an eyelash. "Damn you wanna resort to physical violence already? I must really be getting under your skin."

I groan obnoxiously loud and unclench my fists. "I hate you."

"No, you don't. You hate that I'm right."

"Don't act all high and mighty, we both know you're here to sabotage my career, and it seems like you're enjoying it," I say.

"On the contrary, I'm just trying to get my work done and you are distracting me." He points a finger at me.

I cross my arms and get back to my desk, pulling out my headphones so I don't have to listen to his bullshit. "Who am I to ruffle your perfect little white feathers anyway." He says under his breath.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing." He shakes his head.

"You know there are two types of guys in the world. The ones who look like they will break your heart and you know it. And then there are the ones who wear a mask and you would never expect them to."

"Now who did you so dirty for you to actually believe that?" He mocks me. "The poor shmuck didn't even realize what he unraveled." He grins.

I grit my teeth. "You know I'm just gonna fire you."

"You can't fire me only Sophie can fire me, and Sophie loves me."

"Whatever."

I finally plug in my headphones and step out of the office to grab a drink. Listening to The Cure certainly calms me down while I choose a soda from the vending machine. Before I get the chance to push the button, someone leans in front of the machine and blocks my view. "Excuse me." I am appalled at this boy's manners.

"Really? You like peach soda?" He starts talking but I try to ignore him, moving around him to get my drink. "Would you move?"

"Make me."

"How old are you? I'm just curious." I haven't witnessed this kind of behavior since the fifth grade when Daniel from the playground stole my ball and made me chase him for it.

"Fine." I stomp on his shoe, angered that it's actually come to this. After he moves aside, I grab my soda and run along.

This guy has got some nerve.