the hating game ; lrh

five

"I NEVER REALLY UNDERSTOOD why you hated him, anyway," Anna informs me chirpily as we walk out of our fourth-period class.

"Hate him," I correct her. "Present tense."

A jock throws a basketball over my head and I duck to avoid it, scowling at him as he laughs at his friend and jogs past me. Meathead, I think to myself.

"Did something, like, happen between you two?" Anna asks curiously, and I don't have to turn to see her face to know that she's extremely expectant.

"What? No," I shake my head, almost gagging at the thought. "There's nothing there but pure hatred."

We finally approach my locker — thankfully neither Calum nor Luke have arrived yet — and Anna leans against the next one over as I unlock it and shove my books inside.

"Hate sex is the best sex," Anna shrugs, sucking adamantly on a strawberry-flavoured lollipop.

I shoot her a disgusted look for a brief moment before turning back to my locker. I open my bag and search through it for my Spanish book — dammit, I curse internally. I must have left it in the classroom. I slam the locker door shut and turn to Anna with a frustrated sigh.

"Listen, An, I appreciate your concern," I pat her approvingly on the shoulder, and she smiles at the gesture. "But I'm just trying to pass Spanish and graduate. Okay? No funny business."

"Mmm, sure thing Ro," Anna begins backing away, sending me a mischievous wink. Before she turns her back, she sends me two air kisses. "Call me later!"

I shake my head at the girl — she was my best friend of many years and I love her, but she always finds a way to push my buttons. Shaking the encounter from my mind, I readjust the strap of my bag and begin walking back towards my Spanish class to recollect my book.

I couldn't quite believe the events that had occurred in the past few days. I was failing Spanish — failing. Spanish. How the hell do you even fail Spanish? Sure, I was no fluent speaker — but who was, anyway? Well, apparently Luke. God, he was such an asshole. It was bad enough that he was best friends with my twin brother and spent just about every waking moment by his side, but now he was my tutor? That means I have to actually spend time with the kid, and interact with him. I had no idea how I would ever pull this off. If only—

"Oof," I huff, my body being hurled backwards and almost to the ground when somebody catches my wrist at the last second. I use my free arm to grasp onto theirs and pull myself back up, and when I look up at my saviour I feel myself become weak in the knees. "Ashton."

"Shit, sorry!" He apologises profusely, pulling me back up to a stable stance, but letting his hand remain latched onto my wrist even after I'm clearly okay. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's fine, neither was I," I smile up at him, tucking a brown lock of hair behind my ear. "It's probably half my fault, too."

Ashton stops momentarily, staring down at me with a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Why was he staring for so long? I cough uncomfortably, hoping that it'll break the silence and it does. "Oh," he blinks and comes back to reality, smirk gone, and reaches for something tucked under his arm. Next thing I know, he's handing me my tattered Spanish textbook. "You forgot this in class. I was gonna bring it to your locker, but here."

I feel a blush creeping up my neck and growing across my cheeks, and do my best to calm my breathing and suppress it while I grasp my book. "Thanks," I say.

"No worries," Ashton beams down at me, a dimpled, beautiful grin that I was convinced could light up any room. "I'll walk you to your locker?"

"Sure," I can't help the smile that grows across my face as we turn and begin walking back to my locker. I grasp my textbook tight in my hand, hoping that it would help me relax, and tried my best to put a little more swing into my step as we walked.