Hate. It's just a more fucked up version of love. "Bryson why did you really bring me over here?" She asked as she looked up at me through her long eyelashes. 'Keep up your exterior- you hate her don't forget that' "As much as I hate your ass, I just did it to be nice" She nodded, "mmm, okay" 'What?' "what?" I asked. She smirked, 'oh shit' "Nothing, it just the fact that-" She stood up and started to walk towards me to where she was standing right in front of me. 'She's so tiny' "Let me restart, do you remember the last time you actually talked to me, like a real conversation?" 'Ohh she's talking about that' "When I kissed you, the second time." she smiled, "mhm and since then you've just been creepily staring at me for two years, so lets hear it, what do you want to say- or should I say do to me"