When Hate Feels Like Love

Chapter Seven: Bohr's Atomic Model

Oliver Clarke's POV

The next day, we started learning about Bohr's atomic model. How electrons orbit the nucleus in defined paths. But one wrong pull, and everything collapses into chaos. It's about how some things are meant to stay in their lane, but what happens when one doesn’t? When an electron jumps to a higher state, it releases energy and breaks a pattern.

Just before lunch break, the school speakers crackled to life, cutting through the chatter in the classroom. The static alone was enough to make everyone freeze mid-step. Then came the principal's voice, calm and authoritative.

“Good afternoon, students. Let us all take a moment to recognize the winners of the Academic Excellence Competition held earlier this semester.”

The classroom fell into a hush. Heads turned. All eyes were suddenly on us, on Willow and me, but we weren’t looking at them. We were looking at each other.

Not smiling. Not proud. Just glaring as we waited to see which name was going to be announced.

“Congratulations to Ms. Willow Harrison for emerging as the champion.” Willow let out a breath—barely audible, but I noticed. A quiet sigh of relief, like she’d been holding it this whole time. The principal’s voice continued, "And to Mr. Oliver Clarke, this semester’s runner-up.”

The principal went on, “They will be representing our school at the upcoming regionals. Joining them as reserve members are Shian Matthews, Kyla Summers, and Lhan Williams.”

Scattered applause echoed down the halls. A few half-hearted congratulations floated our way.

I didn’t say anything. Neither did she.

Matt walked over and patted me lightly on the back. "That's a bummer, Ollie. I know you wanted to bid badly."

I stared ahead, eyes trailing back to her as she glanced at me, brow raised, a half-smirk playing on her lips tugging into a smile.

“I did, but it's fine.” I said.

Matt blinked. I continued, almost absentmindedly, “Do you know that Willow never looks happy whenever she places first on anything?"

He said nothing, just listened, maybe out of curiosity. I didn't know at the time because I was busy looking at her. I added, “She exhales. That’s it. Not excitement. Just relief, like winning isn't something to be celebrated but expected of her.”

Willow looked my way again, catching my eye for just a second. It wasn’t smug or proud, it was curious. Guarded. I dropped my gaze. “But you know the only time she actually smiles?”

Matt waited.

“It’s when she beats me.”

Matt snickered, "You know that was the first time you talked about Willow Harrison without mockery, and you called her by her first name."

My eyes widened. Wait. Had I?

There it was.

A break in the pattern.

“It is odd that you never allow anyone to ask Willow out,” Matt said, glancing sideways at me as we walked toward the cafeteria. “At first I thought it was some sort of weird way to annoy her or something, but now…”

Matt trailed off, squinting at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “I’m starting to think there’s something else.”

I didn’t respond right away. I kept walking, hands in my pockets, eyes straight ahead. My silence stretched long enough to be an answer in itself. Then I shrugged, cool and casual. “Who says that isn’t the reason?”

Matt let out a low whistle. “You’re impossible.”

I gestured for him to go ahead. “Right, go on. I’ll be eating lunch in the music room.”

“Ah. Your territory. So, which girl are you bringing there this time?”

I smirked, hands in my pockets. “What do you think of me? I’d never bring a girl to such a lousy place. I am a gentleman.”

"A gentleman, my ass." Matt chuckled, amused. “Then why pick that place in the first place?”

I didn’t answer and turned away. The hallway buzzed behind us, students spilling out for lunch, voices rising in familiar chaos. I made my way through it like I always do until I reached the far end of the corridor, where the world felt a little quieter, a little more mine.

The music room door creaked open with the same resistance it always had. I stepped inside, let the soft stillness settle around me, and walked over to the window.

Outside, the field stretched wide beneath the sun. Familiar. Predictable.

And right there, right in the middle of it, was Willow Harrison. Long, dark hair catching the wind like it was paid to be dramatic, and that infuriating look on her face again, the one where she scrunches her nose like the universe personally offended her schedule. She was probably trying to figure out how to squeeze twenty-eight hours of productivity into a twenty-four-hour day.

Classic Willow.

God, those eyes.

Even from afar, I could picture it clearly. Sharp, restless, always calculating something — my downfall, probably. No. Most definitely.

I leaned against the window frame, arms folded, watching as she laughed through bites of lunch, animated and smug. I could hear her voice faintly.

"I beat you, Oliver Clarke!" she said, jabbing her finger toward the sky. "Take that. I bet he’s acting so depressed now. He's sulking somewhere like a little baby! Ha! I can't wait to see the annoyed look on his pathetic excuse of a face!"

Emily took a long sip of what I knew was Willow’s strawberry drink. She always gave them away, even though I told her a million times not to, and replied dryly, “You know you’re still going to compete with him at academic regionals' thing, right? So winning on campus isn’t exactly… groundbreaking.”

“It is if it’s up against Clarke,” Willow grinned.

"Why do you two hate each other so much? I swear, I’ll never understand you. You compete like it's a full-time job."

Willow said, rolling her eyes. "What I don’t understand is how you don’t hate him. And for the record, he's the one always competing with me! Couldn't he just register in competitions that I'm not competing in? Does he schedule his entire academic calendar just to annoy me? God, why is he so obsessed with me?"

I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitched.

"You are absolutely right, Willow Harrison," I muttered under my breath, my voice laced with dry amusement. "I am utterly and irrevocably obsessed with you."

I leaned closer to the glass, watching her laugh again, still unaware I was watching.