The Boy I said I Hated

I never thought much of him. I was Railey, a university student who had somehow convinced herself that David was the last person she'd ever have to worry about. David was just another face in a crowded room.Someone whose name I knew because we shared the same classes, whose voice I recognized, but whose existence had never really mattered to me. Until that afternoon. I was sitting alone in the dining hall, staring at a form that had somehow managed to make me question every decision that had led me to university. I frowned at the empty spaces. “This can't be serious.” I turned the paper around. Then back again. Nothing. I dropped my pen on the table. “Why is this thing so confusing?” “Because you're making it harder than it is.” I froze. That voice. I slowly looked up. David was standing beside my table, looking down at me with an amused expression. Of all people. Him. I raised an eyebrow. “Did I ask for your opinion?” “No.” “Then keep walking.” He laughed. Actually laughed. Then, instead of leaving, he pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. I stared at him. “What are you doing?” “Helping you.” “I didn't ask for help.” “You've been staring at that form for ten minutes.” My eyes narrowed. “Were you watching me?” His lips curved into a smile. “Maybe.” For some reason, that answer made me suddenly conscious of myself. I pushed the thought away. “Fine. If you're so smart, fix it.” He reached for the form. Our fingers brushed. It was nothing. Barely a second. Yet I pulled my hand back as though I'd touched something hot. He noticed. Of course he noticed. His eyes flickered toward me, and that annoying smile appeared again. “Relax.” “I am relaxed.” “You don't look relaxed.” “I don't like people touching my things.” “I touched the paper.” “Exactly.” He chuckled and looked down at the form. “This part goes here.” He pointed at one of the empty spaces. I leaned closer to see. Our shoulders almost touched. I immediately moved away. He glanced at me. I pretended not to notice. “See?” he said. “Not so difficult.” I took the form from him. “Easy for you to say.” “You're welcome.” “I didn't say thank you.” “You were going to.” I looked at him. “Don't be so sure of yourself.” He smiled. And that was the first time I really noticed his smile. It was warm. Confident. And incredibly annoying. “Thank you,” I muttered. He stood. “Anytime.” Then he walked away. I watched him. One second. Two. Three. Why was I still looking? I quickly lowered my eyes to the form. It meant nothing. He had helped me. That was all. Except it wasn't. Because after that day, I started noticing him everywhere. In class. In the hallway. At lunch. And sometimes, when I looked up unexpectedly, I'd catch him looking at me too. Neither of us would say anything. One of us would simply look away. Until eventually, he stopped pretending. “You're always so serious,” he said one afternoon. “And you're always so irritating.” He grinned. “Yet you always answer me.” “Because someone has to put you in your place.” “Maybe I like it when you try.” I stared at him. He stared back. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then I scoffed. “Delusional.” He laughed. That became our thing. We argued over nothing. Teased each other. Found excuses to be around each other. And whenever someone asked if there was something between us, we'd both immediately deny it. “Do you two actually like each other?” “Absolutely not.” We'd said it at exactly the same time. Then we'd look at each other. And laugh. But sometimes I wondered if we were laughing because it was funny... or because the truth was becoming too obvious. Because somewhere along the way, he stopped being just another classmate. I started looking for him without realizing it. I noticed when he wasn't in class. I noticed when he sat somewhere else. And whenever he walked into a room, my eyes seemed to find him before I could stop them. I hated that. I hated how easily he could make me smile. I hated the way my heart sometimes reacted when he stood too close. Most of all, I hated that I was beginning to wonder if he felt it too. One afternoon, we were arguing about something so stupid that I can't even remember what started it. “You're impossible,” I told him. He crossed his arms. “And yet you keep talking to me.” “Because you won't leave me alone.” “Maybe I don't want to.” My heart skipped. Just once. But he saw it. Or maybe I imagined that he did. I laughed quickly. “Whatever.” He didn't laugh. He just looked at me. There was something different in his eyes. Something that made my stomach tighten. I looked away first. Neither of us said anything. Maybe we both knew that if we did, we'd have to admit something neither of us was ready to say. So we kept pretending. We hated each other. We couldn't stand each other. There was absolutely nothing between us. Until I made the biggest mistake of all. “You should come to my place sometime.” The words slipped out during another meaningless conversation. I expected him to laugh. Instead, he looked at me. “Okay.” I blinked. “Okay?” “Yeah.” “You're actually serious?” “You invited me.” “I was joking.” He raised an eyebrow. “Were you?” I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. His smile slowly returned. “That's what I thought.” Then he walked away. I stood there, staring after him. There was no way he'd actually come. Right? I told myself he wouldn't. I convinced myself he'd forgotten. But deep down, there was a tiny part of me that kept wondering... What if he didn't? A few days later, someone knocked on my door. I wasn't expecting anyone. I opened it. And my entire body went still. He was standing there. Right outside my apartment. One hand in his pocket. That familiar smile on his face. For several seconds, neither of us spoke. Then he tilted his head. “Didn't you tell me to come over?” My heart began pounding. I gripped the door a little tighter. “I was joking.” “I know.” “Then why are you here?” His eyes met mine. “Because I wanted to see if you'd still say that when I actually showed up.” I swallowed. Suddenly, the hallway felt much too quiet. Much too small. And for the first time, I wondered if pretending to hate him had been easier than admitting the truth... Because standing there in front of me wasn't just the boy I'd claimed to hate. He was the boy I couldn't stop noticing. And judging by the way he was looking at me... I wasn't the only one. To be continued… stay tuned