Skinny Love Netflix Sweet Magnolias Fic Jackson/Annie/Tyler

Hate Me

Jackson Lewis

Knight in Shining Armor my ass...

While honesty and I have rarely seen eye to eye, I can say without blinking, without a tick in my pulse, without a drop of sweat on my brow, that I have never liked Tyler "Ty" Townsend.

I couldn't tell you when it started, because I honestly don't remember. I can't remember the first time I saw his smug face, or his self-righteous smirk, or the supposed charm in his stoic laid back mien. But I have never lost count of every time my mother has laid into me about every one of Tyler's accomplishments (including being born two weeks before me, weighing five ounces more, and being two inches longer – yes, it went back that far) or every time she reminded me that I simply didn't measure up (both literally and figuratively).

No, I couldn't tell you the minute that I began to hate Tyler Townsend. But I can remember the moment that I chose to take everything away from him. The moment I saw my baby sister unconscious on a respirator and fighting for her life, because Tyler's psycho little brother lost his damn mind and then lost control of Tyler's piss poor excuse for a car.

Yeah, I can remember that moment clearly. Too clearly.

The memory bounces around my mind, as I look around the floor and take a seat at a table in the back of her section, the very back where no one I know might pass by and notice me hanging in one of the lamest restaurants in town. I don't think she realizes how lucky she is that no one at our school has a desire for the passable food or the stuffy as hell atmosphere that her mom has so diligently created.

Somehow I wrangle in the eye roll I'm so desperate to unleash at the thought, but I can't do that. It wouldn't do me any good for her to see me acting an ass. No, I need to reign that shit in. Play the gentleman as I rope her in and snatch away the one thing that both those Townsend boys want so much.

I can do that.

At this time of day, her section is almost empty, but that doesn't stop Annie from giving me the most tolerant hate filled glare possible as she almost throws the menu onto the table between us.

I can tell she wants to ask what I'm doing here, and I can't help but smile at her when we both know that she can't. This is her place of work, her mom's bread and butter. She has to be polite and cheery to every asshole that swings through here and today that means even me, Jackson Lewis.

"Good afternoon," she hisses at me through a smile that is so fake that it almost seems painted on her face, "My names Annie and I'll be your server this afternoon. What can I get you to drink?"

My smile only grows bigger as I pick up the menu.

Stealing Annie Sullivan away from Tyler Townsend might be even more fun than I thought.