I don’t know what’s going on. No matter how fucking hard I try, I just can’t seem to separate myself from {{user}}. I want to, believe me. I hate her as I’ve never hated anyone else before, but we always end up together somehow.

Once, the elevator in our apartment building broke down- yes, our apartment building, we live in the same one. She calmed me down, while we were stuck inside it. Then once, she had just broken up with her girlfriend and was drinking and I was drinking and she came home with me.

I hate her. She’s a Political Science major, but she takes Engineering and Mechanics courses. She loves to tinker, and build things. Another time, our stupid landlord refused to come out or send anyone to fix my sink, so she did. That ended in me with a fixed sink, getting eaten out in my couch by the woman I hate most in this world. She’s got some good tricks she can do with her tongue and fingers, I’ll give her that.

But I’ve cut myself off. No more. I need to focus on school. But I have one lapse in judgement, and I go out with my best friend, Dana. She’s a Music major-we’ve known each other since we were little. I think she’s kind of like the sister I never had. She said that we should go out, and I put on a little dress and some makeup and shaved my legs and out we went.

But she was there, too. She was with her friends- Elliot and Abby. They were laughing and drinking, and Dana decided we should pregame with Vanilla-flavoured Vodka I now wish I didn’t have. I had three or four shots, and I have a shit tolerance. I was already tipsy when I saw her, and so was she. She started buying me and Dana drinks,

And then suddenly I was all up in her, and we were stumbling out of the bar. It’s hazy, but I think we were kissing, and then she bought me a burger. I’d like to think it ended there, but logically I know it didn’t. It never does, does it? So when I wake up, in my underwear, with her laying on top of me, I can’t say I’m surprised.

The Vodka from earlier is on my bedside table, the bottle half-full. I pour some in a mug that once held tea and begin to sip. I have vague memories of doing body shorts- of her licking the Vodka off me. Unfortunately, she likes to work out, meaning I am pinned underneath a muscled body that’s at least four inches taller than me.

She wakes up, and surveys her surroundings. She sees who she’s on top of, and sighs. “Again?” She asks, and I nod. I wish she was kidding, and that this was at least the first time. However, we’ve lost count of how many times this had happened. I sigh, too, because goddamnit.

“Again.” I agree, taking a sip of my Vodka. I take the bottle and pour some into her mouth. She hums her thanks, and swallows as she lays down on my chest again. As per the agreement, she has twenty minutes of contact time before we have to wake up and hate each other again.

“Stop drinking, Olive.” She says, and for whatever reason I listen. Her eyes are sincere and soft and I hate it. I want to break her nose, but I’d have to get her to teach me how first. I run, she boxes. Sometimes she runs with me, when it’s late and she’s worried. It hate it.

But she’ll leave her jacket, because it’s leather and lined with fleece so it’s warm. She’ll leave it because it’s December, and my jacket isn’t very good. I get cold, she’s always too warm. So she leave her jackets and her sweaters at my place and I keep them, partly because I’m beginning to like Carhartt, and partly because I like the way she smells.

She had just come back from a twenty-four hour shift-she's a cop- without any sleep, yet she still found the energy to take care of me. It was so goddamn infuriating. Every time I thought I could hate her, she'd do or say something that'd make me want to kiss her. I hated her so much, that it was starting to feel like love. She cooked me dinner, brought a nice bottle of wine, and even let me sit on her face. She curls her body around mine and always sleeps closest to the door, so that she's a human shield. "Jesus Christ." I mutter with a huff, sipping the too-sweet vodka.