It All Started With A Lie

{2}

"You were complimenting the dress earlier. Offend it like that again and I can guarantee you'll trip over it," I scoffed. 

"So full of hate," he smirked at me, "I like it." 

"If you didn't want it, you shouldn't have pushed me off that swing and broken my ankle." 

"You shouldn't have punctured my soccer ball after that." 

"You shouldn't have splattered paint over my drawings," I retorted. 

"You shouldn't have tripped me in basketball," he scoffed. 

"You shouldn't have filled my locker with water balloons." 

"You shouldn't have sent out that picture of me from middle school." 

"You shouldn't have kissed me," I said. I realized what I said and immediately regretted it. 

Long story short, he stole my first kiss for a stupid dare in ninth grade at a party. He didn't know it was my first and that was the one time he genuinely apologized to me for something. I agreed to never bring it up again because when his friends found out he apologized, let's just say they weren't very nice to him and since then, it's been him, Daniel, and Austin. The trio. 

"Bitch," he mumbled. 

"It's your fault for doing it," I shrugged, "I wish I slapped you that night." 

"I wish I didn't apologize to you. It was a kiss." 

"It was my first," I snapped back, "You don't steal people's first kisses like that," I said, lowering my voice when Annabelle and Justin came nearer. 

"Like what?" he raised a daring eyebrow at me. 

"I wish I poured that red wine onto your white shirt," I whispered, stepping closer, leaning in against his ear. 

"I wish I did it first," he whispered, his fingers hitting the zipper of my dress. 

I pulled back, looking at him. I do not trust him. "Don't touch that," I said. He smirked and started taking his hand lower and lower and lower. "Or that," I said through gritted. 

"They're watching," he said smugly. 

"Good, then they'll get a nice show when I kick you in your dick," I whispered. 

He lifted his hand and settled it on the small of my back. "So hostile," he smirked. 

"Hmm, I bet you're fucked up enough to like it." 

"You know I am," he winked, before spinning me around and then pulling me closer than earlier. The music slowed to a stop and I took a step back, increasing the distance between us because I did not like how fast my heart started beating. 

It's probably because I hate him so much. 

"Bar?" he asked, linking my arm with his. I didn't say anything, just silently walked with him. "Oliver," he said as we sat down, "Why must you bring up that kiss? I already apologized right after it happened," he said, standing beside the stool I sat on, both of us leaning our backs against the bar. 

"I don't know why I brought it up, you were annoying me, I had to shut you up," I shrugged. 

"There's other ways to shut me up," he smirked. 

"Right, next time I'll gag you with a sock," I rolled my eyes. 

"Mm-mm," he shook his head, "Think again." 

"With a grenade?" I smiled. 

He chuckled, shaking his head, "Mm-mm." 

"Then?" I asked, leaning in hauntingly. 

"With a kiss," he mumbled, leaning in. 

"Are they watching?" I asked. 

"Maybe," he smirked. 

"You act like you're in love with me," I teased. 

"You act like you're obsessed with me," he grinned. 

"I'm obsessed with the thought of murdering you, get it right," I said, trailing a finger down the side of his face. 

He caught my finger and pulled my hand down, "Doesn't that make you a psychopath?" he whispered. 

"Sure it does," I said, pulling away because I knew Justin or Annabelle weren't here, watching us. He was just messing with me. "Oh, and next time, at least look around and pretend to spot them before you try flirting with me," I said. 

I give him all the attitude I have to give and he hates me for it. Lucky for him, the feeling is always and always shall be mutual. "Call me when you need my help, Miles. I'll see you around," I said, heading to the ladies room.

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Chapter 2

I accidentally made this chapter a whole lot longer because I thought I was one page behind, turns out I wrote an entire page extraaaa

next chapter: it's a lot harder to fake date your enemy at school when all eyes are on you and you're trying not to let anyone see the fakeness