seven rules to hate you

Chapter 1

#1: Never underestimate Noah Carter

The first rule of hating someone is really simple: Never let them know you hate them.

Because the second they realize they bother you, they win.

and Noah Carter had been winning for three years straight now.

I didn't know exactly when or how it started, but it did. maybe it was the first week of freshmen year when he walked into the university introductory class ten freaking minutes late, wearing sunglasses indoors like he was auditioning for some theatrical performance like an annoying movie character.

Or maybe it was when professor Hayes asked him why he thought deadlines mattered, and he smiled his charming dimpled smile like he had never heard of the word 'consequence' before.

"Because", Noah had said, leaning back in his chair as if he's on a cool beach vacation, "without deadlines, people like me would probably never do anything."

The entire class laughed at it as if it was the joke of the year. hahaha.

I didn't.

that was my first mistake.

Noah Carter noticed everything. and by everything I mean Every. Single. Thing.

Especially when he realizes someone wasn't impressed by him. its like he could sniff it from hill tops.

Three years later, he was still the same. annoyingly more so.

He was the definition of Campus Royalty. Everyone knew him. He knew everyone. Professors loved his confidence, students loved his charm, and somehow every single person who crossed his path thinks they are 'special', or 'gifted', or, oh! the very recent one, 'honored'.

which was absolutely hilarious.

Because Noah Carter had mastered the art of making everyone feel like they were his favorite person in the room, even if the room had 100 people in it!

Spoiler alert:

They weren't.

I knew because I had been watching him for years now.

Not in the creepy, stalking way, but more of the journalistic way.

there is an absolute difference between the two.

I sat in the corner booth of The Daily Grind, my laptop opened on the dingy wooden table, my coffee untouched and now probably cold as I started at the very white, very blank document In front of me.

Except for one thing, The title in big, bold, black font.

Seven Rules to Hate Noah Carter.

It had started as joke, though now, I can't say much.

A private list in my notes app after Noah ruined yet another perfectly good group project by turning everything into a competition.

But then I gave some thought to it.

A few years into this university had thought me one important thing:

people loved the version of theirs they created in their heads.

Noah Carter was the Campus' golden boy.

The athlete.

The businessman.

The dream boyfriend of many girls.

The guy who remembered everyone's name.

The guy who smiled at professors and help freshmen find their way to class.