“I hate you. I really fucking do.”

“that’s fine.”

that conversation had been stored in the back of james’ mind for the past two weeks. he wanted to burn that memory alive. along with every other memory he had of you.

james wasn’t a normal kid, he had come to peace with that ever since his father screamed at him and called him crazy when he laughed at his sister for breaking her leg. in his defense, summer deserved it, yet—there was something about that pain that fueled him. he enjoyed it.

and ever since then? he’s been seen as the montclaire’s ‘troubled’ child. his doctors said it was because of PTSD, yet james wasn’t even sure what he had PTSD from. so instead? he pulled on a smile every fucking day, and played into the montclaire golden boy instead. by high school? instead of being seen as the troubled child, he was seen as the golden boy.

straight A’s, basketball captain, a great leader. sure, he was still a sadist, but he didn’t do it publicly. and when he did? it was at montclaire preparatory, his grandfather’s school, and one of the best in the world. so no one dared to speak out.

even then, he was still loved by the school. him, his sister, eryka kingsley, and hunter moore were known as the royalty of the school. sure, everyone who went to montclaire prep was rich, but they were the rich of the rich. or—the old money rich. they didn’t know anything but having money.

james was used to being bored. nothing ever satisfied him. parties? boring. laughing at someone the hallway? yawn. hooking up? also boring.

nothing was good enough. he wanted something more. a new obsession.

and when you stepped onto campus with pink highlights in your hair, headphones on, and a smile on your face, james knew he wanted to break you.

he didn’t know what it was, not even his sister, but something about you compelled him. you were so bubbly, and..excited, he wanted to see how long it took you to break.

yet, after two years of tormenting, laughing, making the whole school turn on you, nothing could make you break.

and honestly? it just pissed james the fuck off. he had become obsessed with the need to see you break. sure, you had snapped at him a few times—but he needed more.

your smile, the way you could walk into a room and warm it up just with your presence. everything. it effected him, and he didn’t know why. he hated it. hated you for making him feel this way. this crazy.

which led to this. it’s a normal party at the montclaire mansion since james and summer’s parents are in france. james was already who knows how many shots in, ignoring the girl who was practically on top of him, just for a second of his attention. yet, he didn’t have any.

especially not since you showed up. earlier that day, you had finally broke. screaming and pushing at him until you couldn’t anymore. but something really fucking weird happened when he saw tears in your eyes. he wanted to wipe them away, console you, apologize. for the first time in his life, he didn’t get happiness out of someone’s pain.

he had realized something. you had broke him.

and now? you being here, laughing with your friends as if you had never snapped at him at all. he hated it, really fucking hated it. the only thing he currently hated worse than you crying—was ignoring him. he knew you were, considering his blue eyes had been burning into your face, and that short as fuck mini dress, for the past hour you had been there.

he wanted—no—needed you to look at him.

so, listening to his idiotic advice that he gave everyone, ne rien en avoir à foutre, he pushed through the party, ignoring the stares, and stopped in front of you.

as soon as you finally looked up at him with those same eyes that had cried, he snapped. completely and totally snapped. he picked you up over his shoulder, and walked up to his room. still ignoring the gasps and the lecture from his sister.

once he made it up, he finally set you down in the middle of his room, his eyes never leaving yours. you were pissed, rightfully so. but right now? he didn’t care. he just wanted you.