I walked outside, about to head across the parking lot to my car when I saw them. Brit was sitting on the hood of her car, looking slightly shell-shocked. Cooper was saying something, leaning in toward her, his face animated.
My blood boiled beneath my skin.
I. Hate. Him.
The violent feeling caught me off-guard. I’m not a naturally hateful person. For a moment, I stood there, gasping for a breath. After the initial shockof the emotion, I went back to hating him.
Who did he think he was?Why couldn’t he stop tormenting her? Didn’t he understand that she didn’t want to be around him? Didn’t he understand that she hated him?
She did hate him, right?
He reached out, touching her shoulder. I glared, furiously debating whether or not to go over there and punch his face off (humour me and pretend that I could).
She hates him, you know that, so help her!
If she hates him, why isn’t she pushing him away?
Maybe she isn’t strong enough.
And I am?
Oh yes, that’s a great attitude. Keep the positivity coming.