You’re taking your enemy home from a party, in the rain.

“I’m sorry, I know you don’t like drunk guys.” He stumbles and you catch him.

“How much did you drink?” You said, rolling your eyes.

He groans, throwing his head back as he lays down on the street, “I’m so obsessed with you.”

You laugh, thinking he’s messing with you, “Get up Bailey. We have to get you home.”

He hides his face under his hands, “I made you believe that I hated you, when in reality… I love you.”