The Hating Game

by Sally Thorne

Books were, and always would be, something a little magic and something to respect.

Every day here is a challenge, a privilege, a sacrifice, and a frustration.

Joshua is glaring at me with angry eyebrows. I use my brainwaves to transmit an insult to him, which he receives and pulls himself up straight.

You’re always beautiful.

Thank you so much!! He replies almost instantly: I had a great time. I’d love to see you again. I reply: Definitely!

They are probably from Josh

The energy that usually lashes ineffectively inside each of us now has a conduit, forming a loop of electricity between us, cycling through me, into him. My heart is glowing in my chest like a bulb, flashing brighter with each movement of his lips.

I spot a little origami bird made of notepaper I once flicked at him during a meeting.

I notice my Post-it note with the kiss on it stuck to the fridge and point at it.

You’re my nemesis.” “You’re awfully snuggly with your nemesis.”

“No one should ever be ignored, or made to feel unimportant.

“I’ve got so much inside me I have no idea about. I’m like the mayor of a city I’ve never seen.”

What a way to start the day. Showering with my colleague and nemesis.

Brute, raw masculinity contrasted with gentleness is the most attractive thing on earth.

I hope it’s not too forward of me to say, but your eyes are incredible, Lucy. I die when you blink.”

“I love you, Lucy Hutton. So much, you have no idea. Please be my best friend.”