A Thin Line Between Hate and Like

When you live this close, hate doesn't stand a chance.

Shakira Chantelle Brooks hated Jabari Carter. Like, hated him. Always had. Always would. The man was her walking trauma response, period. Back in the day-when braces had her gums on fire and her smile looking like a construction zone-he stayed calling her Bucker Teeth like it was her birth name. That nickname followed her harder than Sallie Mae, and don't think she's ever forgotten.

Now she's grown, fine, and finally got her life halfway together-director of a nonprofit, almost done paying off her school loans, just bought herself a house. But life? Life don't ever let a Black woman breathe too long. The basement floods, bills start piling, and just like that she's dragging her suitcase into her best friend's guest house.

Which would've been perfect... if Jabari Carter wasn't already living there.

Her brother's best friend. Her lifelong nemesis. The man who somehow got finer with age and knows it. Why does she hate him? Baby, pull up a chair.
• He grew up with money while she had to grind every damn day.
• Every time he fumbled, his parents wrote a fat check to fix it.
• He runs through women like Uber Eats orders.
• And the way he walks around like God's gift? Please.

So yeah, Shay hates him with her whole chest. Her friends question it. Her best friend questions it. Hell, even she questions it sometimes. But that hate? Rock solid.

Problem is... when you're sharing the same roof, hate don't stand a chance. And everybody knows that thin line between hate and like? That's where the real mess lives.