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11. "I Hate You."

NOT EDITED

I see you driving 'round town with the girl I love

And I'm like, fuck you

(Fuck You - Cee Lo Green)


Hell.

That's what I've been going through this past week.

Even Oliver can't look in my direction without pity in his eyes. I hardly need anyone's pity. So what if he bluntly told me he didn't care about me and never will? I mean, it may be true, but that doesn't mean I go around wallowing in my own self - pity.

That is a tempting, yet ridiculous idea.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I walk through the empty halls. Stupid teacher for sending me out to get photocopies. Someone already got them.

Seriously?

I trudge down the empty corridor, keeping my eyes down. That is, until I crash into something exceptionally hard.

That's what she said.

Back onto the point, I hit my bum rather harshly when I fall. Who in their right minds builds a wall in the middle of the corridor? 

Someone stupid, that's who.

I groan slightly. Ouch. I'll need to take some Tylenol when I get home.

I look forward to see jean - clad legs in front of me. "Sorry," I squeak out. 

There's a sigh. "Can you move? I would really like to get to class." I nearly choke on my own spit. I'd know that voice anywhere.

Drew.

Looking up, I gulp audibly. He sighs, running his hands through his hair. I'm quick to scramble up, not wanting to annoy him.

"O - okay," I whisper. I let out a small groan of pain when I turn away. 

"Are you okay?" He blurts out, catching my wrist. I glare up at him; I thought he didn't care and never will?

"Let go," I try to tug my wrist out of his grasp. "Drew, let go."

"Answer the question," he whispers.

"No," I look up at him. His expression is pained. "Just let go."

"You know you don't want me to, Dylan," and, there it is - the arrogant, cocky boy I'm falling for. "You want me to hold on, and never let go."

Why do I feel like there's a double meaning behind this?

I shake my head, tears quickly blurring my vision. It's true - I want him to hold onto me and never let go. "Drew, let me-"

"Admit it, Dylan, you want me to never leave you alone," well, this conversation escalated quickly. 

"No."

"Dylan-"

"I hate you!" I lash out. "You walk around like nothing fazes you, like every word you said to me was true. I hate you, Drew Steele, I really do."

He's quiet for a moment, his fingers frozen around my wrist. I grit my teeth to stop the tears from falling.

I.

Am.

Not.

Weak.

"No, you don't," he finally says. He's right - I don't. "You don't hate me, Dylan. You hate what I did to you."

If we're going to let go of our friendship. might as well do it now. "I hate what you did to me, and I hate you. You don't know me, Drew. And I don't think you ever will."

With that, I rip my arm from his grip and turn on my heel, heading in the wrong direction.

Feeling like I left a piece of me behind.

***

 "Dylan, Dylan, Dylan," Wesley repeats over and over, waving a hand in front of my face.

"What?" I snap. Ever since I left Drew in the hallway - completely dumbstruck, I think I did a pretty good job at gob - smacking him - I've been feeling snarky. Like, God, I don't like people today.

Period.

"Nothing, sorry," he raises his hands in defense, "you just seemed so out of it."

"Sorry," I mutter. I hang up my photo on the line - we're in the school's darkroom, for the first time this year. Apparently, all the freshmen had to 'learn how to develop'. 

Isn't there a handbook about these things?

"So, you and the school's player, eh?" Wesley teases, nudging me with his elbow.

"Fuck!" I curse loudly and whip my head to the teacher's aide. She shakes her head. I give a smile before turning to Wesley. "You made me blur the picture," I state sadly. It's one from an older album. 

"Sorry. Anyway, don't stray away from the subject." He grins at me, looking weird in the red glow.

"We're nothing," I force myself to say, my throat closing. I grit my teeth forcefully. Don't cry, Dylan. Don't you fucking cry.

"Oh, really?" He says, hanging up a photograph. "It didn't seem like that in the Promenade. We were in the shop, you know," he says matter - of - fact like. "I saw all that forehead kissing and grinning at the old couple."

Memories hit me harder than a fucking truck.

"Nothing," I murmur, more to myself. "Absolutely nothing. Bollocks. Can you drop it?" 

He gives me a pointed look before shrugging. "Whatever."

I swear. I love this guy, I really do - I mean Wesley, okay? - but, sometimes, I want to shove my foot so far up his ass it'd come out of his mouth. 

Too graphic? I don't really think so.

"Oh, shut it."

We continue arguing over nothing, like best friends do. It's a nice feeling. I mean, having a close friend other than Noel. It's nice.

I'm laughing by the time we leave the dark room. Seriously, Wesley is the only guy who can make me laugh this hard. He's Wesley, my best friend. Not the boy who's going out with Shelly, not the boy who asked me out in sixth grade (which I'd bluntly rejected. I was awkward, all elbows and knees, who'd want me?), not the boy who teases me about going out with Drew.

And I decide I wouldn't want this any other way.

***

At lunch, I sit alone. I had pushed Noel to sit with Oliver at his table - I figured, Oliver must be getting a bit bored, sitting with two teenage girls.

I sigh as I push my fork through my 'meatloaf surprise'. Yeah, the surprise is a disease that isn't named. 

I push the plate away and, instead, take a large bit out of my mango. I know, but they ran out of the cliche 'apples'.

"Hey, there, Camera Girl," I swear, my heart stops its steady rhythm when I look up and meet a pair of electric eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I spit out. Ugh, not the mango!

"I wanted to tell you-"

"Drew!" My mouth falls open as what looks like a Victoria's Secret comes up behind him and wraps her tan arms around his neck, kissing his cheek affectionately. Leaving traces of dark red lip stick.

He smiles at her. 

"Hey, Katie," he says, looking up with a lopsided smile. It makes me sick that he used that on me before.

Oh God, help me through this. "I think I'm going to go," I say, swallowing down the bitterness and, instead, give the two a smile. "See you two around."

Picking up my tray, I walk away. 

"Wait, Dy-"

I shake my head slightly, as if telling him to 'back off'. I hear his voice die off. I press my lips together as I walk out of the cafeteria.

Heading to my locker, I screw in the combination and jerk it open. A note falls out. 

See you soon, Sugar

I'm starting to get pissed off from all the black inked notes and 'Sugar'. Like, the hell man, the name is Dylan.

"Cryptic fuckers," I mutter, crumbling up the note. I don't even feel scared anymore. They can get me - I'll tell them the truth. He just doesn't care.

Doesn't care. Two words I never want to hear.

I sigh, getting out my books. I never realised how annoying gangs could be - if Drew is in a gang. Which I highly doubt - he can hardly make it to the choir at Church with all the girls he's been sleeping with.

Does that make sense? I don't know, but do I give any? No!

I run my hand over my face.

My phone rings abruptly, pulling me out of my thoughts. I pull the device out of my pocket, hitting the read message button.

Soon.

Cryptic. Fuckers.

A/N: Not good, I know! I'm such a bad person. I'm having writer's block. It genuinely sucks. I don't know if I'll ever edit/get an editor, so you'll have to be stuck with all my errors.

So I have a story to share with you. It goes like this-

The other day, I was going to the mall for back to school shopping, and I told my mom to wait for me at a different store while I went to Forever 21 (I didn't buy anything, though I have my eyes on a leather jacket). So, while I was in there, I look up randomly from the shirt racks to see an awkward - looking guy, just standing there.

Hot damn, he was attractive.

So I just gave him a half - smile and moved on. He was probably older than me - I look waaaaaay older than I am - even without make up! It's probably my height. And the fact that my awkward posture made me look like an awkward eighteen - year - old girl.

So yeah ... the end.

School starts in the beginning of September. Are any of you excited? Cause I'm not. LIKE CAN U NOT.

Hope you liked the chapter and mini - story!

Okay, I'm rambling. Comment/Vote if you liked it, maybe fan? :)

Until next time,

~Jayy

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