Falling in Hate with You

FIHWY - 1

A casual Megan Fox as Tasha Taylor^^^

Dedicated to ella_enchanted, because her story "The Ivy League" was the first book I read on Wattpad, and still makes me laugh today. And laughter is something I value high above many things.

Also, I know my writing starts off really rough, but once you get to chapter 3ish, I personally think it flows a little better. Hope that didn't sound super pretentious...

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Falling in Hate with You

Chapter One

                  “Move,” I growled and pushed a twiggy freshman kid out of my way. I didn't even blink as I heard his body connect with a row of lockers. Not my fault; he saw me coming. Glancing at the time on my cell I realized that I was early, not something that was normal for me. I slowed down my pace when I saw my classroom door down the hall; it’s not like I was in any hurry.

                My sneakers scuffed the floor as I stopped in front of the door and pushed it open. Mr. Connors didn’t even turn his head or stop speaking to the class, that’s how routine this was. I slid into my seat at the farthest back corner away from everybody else and pulled out my sketchbook and pencil case. I bent my head and immediately lost myself in the music pouring in my ear, courtesy of the black ear phone covered by my long brown hair.

                About twenty minutes had gone by and my hand was beginning to tire from the amount of shading I was doing. Letting my eyes roam around the classroom, they landed on a blond haired head sitting directly in front of me hunched over his desk. I blinked in surprise. When did he get there?

                I cleared my throat rather loudly, gaining the attention of Mr. Connors and a few other people. I sent them nasty glares and focused on my teacher, nodding my head at the guy in front of me.

                Mr. Connors looked amused, and shrugged his shoulders.

                “Who is he?” I mouthed.

                He answered with another shrug and a smirk. I decided I would have to take matters into my own hands. I pushed one of my pencils off my desk and it rolled right under his chair. Bingo. I almost smiled as he leaned over to pick it up; too easy.

                He turned around in his chair and held the pencil out to me, “Is this yours?”

                I could’ve thrown up as I saw the perfectly spiked up at the front blond hair; the rectangular black frames of his glasses; the baby blue polo with the neatly turned down collar. The smooth shaven face; the whiff of the Hugo Boss cologne; the gleaming Rolex watch on the hand he had extended with my pencil. The high cheekbones; the straight nose; the full lips; the matching baby blue eyes that stared earnestly back at me.

                “No duh, genius. I'm the only one around you.” I snapped and snatched it out of his hand. His eyes widened with surprise and he hesitated before spinning back around in his seat.

                I hated him.

                He was oozing the lifestyle of a well-bred, wealthy, preppy, and snotty, sugar sweet kid.

                I hated him.

                I heard Mr. Connors clear his throat and I waited until I knew the other kids wouldn’t be looking at him anymore to meet his gaze.