3 | Hate That I Hate You

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"No one can hate you with more intensity than
someone who used to love you," — Rick Riordan

Chapter Three: Hate That I Hate You

The sound of my old nickname echoed in my memory for what felt like days

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The sound of my old nickname echoed in my memory for what felt like days.

Although the alcohol messed with my mind, that was the one thing that fuelled my emotions.

Hatred. Anger. Resentment.

And I hated feeling anything resembling to anger.

Thankfully, I hadn't seen Colton since that day. It was now a day after labor day, and I was currently lying on my bed, watching a murder documentary.

Today was the first day back to school, but for grade nine's only, so they could get to know the school before we all went back the next day.

Dad had dropped Yasmin off today before he went to work so I was officially home alone.

However, as it was getting closer to twelve in the afternoon, my phone rang. I quickly paused the documentary before checking the caller ID.

"Hey," I greeted once I answered the phone.

Deciding to keep myself busy, I put the call on speaker before getting up from my bed to grab my lip palm from across my room. "Hey, Lia!" Riya said, and my eyes squinted as a smile tugged on the corner of my lips from her cheery behavior.

"Shouldn't you be the best guide right now?" I asked her, which she responded with a sigh.

Riya's been on the student council since the tenth grade and now being a senior, she decided to stick with helping the grade nines around the school until the end of the day.

"I would be if these disrespectful rude children were kind," she grumbled, and I let out a laugh.

"What happened?"

She laughed dryly. "What didn't happen? They make fun of each other and then me. They're poking me every time I turn the other way. One of them keeps hitting on me," she hissed the last bit and I pouted to control my laugh.

"How do you want me to help?" I grinned as an idea popped up in my head. "Do you want me to call my cousin's boyfriend from Florida. He's in some messed up business and can help you... deal with inappropriate teens."

Riya chuckled and stayed silent for a few moments—as if considering it—before answering. "You know, I think if you dropped off food for me, I would be happier."

I sighed, opening my notes app. "Sure. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Perfect! I freaking love you," she yelled before hanging up.

Once I fixed up my schedule, I walked downstairs in my sweatpants and tee-shirt before grabbing my car keys.

Dad had given me his Honda Civic when I got my license last year and got himself a white Ford, so luckily I didn't have to walk or take my bike.

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