Hating You to Love Me

2. Alex

My eyes stared at her back as she walked out of my office. A sigh left my lips as my eyes fell on the lit screen in front of me. I kept skimming through the lines, one after the other figuring out the storyline. And it stopped. The blank appeared and a small chuckled escaped my lips.

She was going good, why'd she stop writing? I read the last few chapters over again and only then did I figure out the only thing she lacked was the compassion for a confrontation. And that's her in real life as well. No doubt her stories are usually based on one sided love and full of hate roller coasters.

I loved her work, but there was something annoying about acknowledging that it was her who wrote those best selling stories. Ever since I have known her, the woman lacked compassion, love, sweetness in real life. I had never seen her go out on a date, never seen her try to hit on guys and moreover I had never seen her project her real self. She was just a bitch, especially to me. No, just to me.

My mind wandered, filling itself with her. Her thoughts. I figured how she would have always pretend not to care, not to be affected, not to be jealous, not to be angry. She was a neutral block most of the times, but I loved cracking that shell in her. I loved making her angry, annoyed and getting reactions from her.

That's what I had figured out in three years of bearing her presence. It's easy to get on her nerves. Very easy, you just need patience. I had enough of that. A small smile was on my face as I thought about it. She was also the only one who got onto my nerves and I hated it. I hated it when she succeeded to annoy me, to make me react.

"Fuck Ashley." I whispered as my hands reached for the keyboard and I started typing. Before I knew, I was in it, Indulged. I lost the track of time as I set the scene and closed the story. I stretched in my seat as I saved the draft and closed the document.

A list of documents popped on my screen. Unintentionally a folder named "Me" caught my attention. I clicked on it, promising myself not to peak in further. It was invading someone's privacy and I had never done that. Never.

A series of her pictured were there. Some selfies, some videos and pictures. Her baby pictures and a few of her teenage ones. She was a nerd? Nah. I could see that in those eyes behind her spectacles. In her writings. She was not. But was she a troublemaker? For me, yes.

I tilted my neck staying on the overview not viewing any picture. But I really caught that smile in all those pictures. I wanted to see that and she rarely smiled. At least not for me or at me. A sigh escaped my lips again, as I exited the window and shut her mac. I knew exactly what was wrong with her. I knew why she avoided me, I knew it, I had read it.

My hand grazed the small glass cube on my desk as I was lost in my head. "One day, You'd tell me everything yourself." I muttered and I felt cold inside. The sudden coldness whenever I thought about how she'd pretend to not be her, never tell what she felt. One day, I'd crack that shell, crack her.

Without another thought, I packed all my stuff and left the office. The car was ready for me to drive back home. It was weekend, and I wanted to enjoy it before I left for New York.
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I step down my car, closing the door behind. I grab my bag and another paper bag with donuts. My phone instantly started ringing. I put it to my ear as I shut the car door and walk inside the building. I see the black Mercedes. A small smile played on my lips instantly.

I heard an old voice on the other end. My smile dropped instantly. "Good evening grandma." I wish as I walk inside deciding to take the stairs. Climbing each step carefully as the other voice starts complaining instantly.

"It's been two weeks since I have been wanting to see you. When are you getting to New York! Is your girlfriend really that busy? All I want is to see you two together before I die!"