Her hands were shaking when she took another piece of paper.
Another half an hour and the class was going to end.
1. I hate that you don’t hate that I hate you.
2. I hate that my hands are shaking.
3. I hate that your handwriting is prettier than mine.
4. I hate how you take everything so easily.
5. I hate that I’ve been thinking of a reason for over 10 minutes.
6. I hate that I can’t find anything else to hate about you.
7. I hate that I can only hate meaningless things by now.
8. I hate that I’m about to cry.
9. I hate that I can no longer hate you.
10. And more than anything, I hate to believe that I… love you too.
The bell ranged and she shot the boy a tearful look.
She gave him the piece of paper before leaving the class and disappeared.
He was worried about her so he went to find her.
He was tired of suffering; he wanted her to love him back.
But she thought it was a game to him; it wasn’t.
He told her he had never loved someone like he loved her, but she thought it was impossible.
He told her they were made to be together, but she refused to see the truth.
So he kissed her and she kissed him back.
And then she knew that, as always, he was right.
