Alex had always been your worst nightmare. He was the kind of person who seemed to enjoy making your life miserable. Every day, it was something new.

“Buy me this,” “Hold my books,” “Do my homework for me.” And somehow, he acted like it was perfectly normal for you to obey. You hated him. Plain and simple.

That all came to a head one afternoon. You were walking to class, clutching your favorite novel like it was your lifeline. Alex, of course, appeared out of nowhere. “Hey, give me that for a sec,” he demanded, reaching for your book.

“No! That’s mine!” you snapped.

He just laughed and tugged anyway, and that was all it took. The spine of your beloved book ripped with a sickening tear. Your chest tightened, and anger boiled over. Without thinking, you grabbed his collar and slammed your fist into his cheek. “I hate you so much, Alex!” you shouted.

For a moment, he froze. Then, brushing off the pain, he smirked. There was a glint in his eyes like he actually enjoyed your outburst. “You hate me, huh?” he said slowly, almost savoring the words.

Your hands were still gripping his shirt, your heart pounding in your chest. Anger, frustration, and something else, something irritatingly confusing mixed inside you. You wanted to punch him again, to tear that smug look off his face, but he just stood there, smirking, as if daring you to lose control even more.

“You actually like making me mad, don’t you?” you hissed, letting go of his collar but keeping your glare locked on him.

“Maybe I do,” he said, tilting his head and grinning, the mark from your punch still faint on his cheek. “It’s… entertaining.”