Hate to Love You - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Tristan
My attention was pulled from the hot barista by someone tapping on my shoulder. Hard.
Georgia's brown eyes flew to something behind me, and I sighed at the interruption. I turned to face whoever it was, but froze as soon as I recognized the familiar red hoodie. This time, the hood was down, and I could see her face clearly in the bright coffee shop.
And much to my irritation, she was a total babe.
Her long, golden blonde hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, fly-away strands framing her angry face. If I thought the blonde from earlier had pretty lips, she had nothing on this chick. These were proper dick-sucking lips. Too bad they only spewed venom.
And her eyes, such a clear blue they almost looked transparent, glared at me with pure hatred.
"You." I narrowed my eyes at her, wary about whatever bullshit she was about to start now.
"You," she spat out, and then she jabbed one long finger into the center of my chest. I looked down at it with an annoyed grimace. She wore no nail polish, yet her fingers looked long and feminine — though they hardly felt dainty as they jabbed themselves into my chest. "You're an asshole, you know that?"
Was she still on about earlier? What the actual fuck?
We stopped, didn't we? And whatever-her-name-was had scurried off with a pout after I ignored her for the rest of the lesson. Sure, I'd get another chance with someone else, but my dick was still disappointed by the lack of blowjobs.
I glared at Hoodie-girl. "Is this about before? Because I don't know if you noticed, but we stopped. Your cock-blocking efforts worked, so you can stop hounding me about it."
"Oh nooo." She shook her head slowly. "This is about now — your second offense today. That I know of." She held up two fingers in front of my face and I leaned back to avoid getting my eyeballs poked out.
"Yeah? And how have I offended your delicate senses this time?" I batted her hand out of my face and she got even more red. Like a tiny tomato throwing a temper tantrum.
"I'm aware that you think the entire world revolves around you and that we should all cater to your every whim, but that's not how things actually work. You, Fuckface, have been holding up this line for ten minutes—!"
"—Did you just call me fuckface—?"
"—Ten minutes! While we all wait for you to get your flirt-on and finally leave. I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but it does not take that long to order one coffee. It doesn't even take five minutes. But you — you disgusting, perverted asshole — you just have to wave your dick at every available female!"
She took a deep breath to regain some of her steam, gesturing towards Georgia. "You can't even wait until she's done with her shift or on her break. No, you must simply inconvenience us all. We have places to be, you know. Things to do. And you're wasting all of our time while we watch in pure agony as you try to charm the pants off of this poor barista. For once in your fucking life, can you think about something else besides you and your pathetic penis!" She finished her rant by angrily yelling the word 'penis'.
You could hear a pin drop it was so quiet.
Everyone stared at us, mostly her, in shock. And when she finished her unhinged rant, their gazes shifted to me, waiting to see my reaction to her outburst. Waiting for their star player to depict how this situation would play out. My eyes stayed locked on hers as I stared at her in silence. I let her words sink in and mellow — let them cut me.
"Are you done?"
Her gaze perused my face, a hint of caution edging her into expression, but clearly, she didn't know when to stop because she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in defiance.
She shook her head and continued, "No. No, I'm not done. You lack awareness, you're arrogant, you're self-entitled, you're rude, and you think you're God's gift to women. News flash — you're not. You're just an entitled douchebag and no one here has the guts to say it — except me."
I looked past at the person standing behind her — because I couldn't handle another second of looking at her. A short man with a gelled mustache was watching us with rapt attention, like we were a bunch of circus animals here for his amusement. Why did I feel like punching him instead? Fucking madness.
I began to nod slowly, gaze trailing over the horror-stricken faces of my fellow Dale students. Hoodie-Girl had gone and made this everyone's business. They knew how badly she'd fucked up, even if she had yet to realize it.
Did I have a God complex? Maybe. Was I arrogant and all of that other bullshit? Yeah. But, like a God, I looked after my people. I treated them with just as much respect as they treated me with. I recognized their worship and praise and knew that I would be nothing without them. But for this girl, this nobody, to tell me to stop thinking about myself and consider those around me — what the fuck did she really know?
Looking back down at her, I finally spoke. "If you had pulled your head out of your ass sometime in those ten minutes, you'd know that the coffee machine is broken — that they told us it would take a couple of minutes to repair, and that I'm only waiting for them to fix it. And that who I flirt with or who I fuck is none of your business."
She inhaled sharply, her cheeks staining with even more red as realization started to sink in. She lost most of her steam quickly, her eyes flickering over to the barista's and the coffee machine before coming back to mine. But seeing the anger in my eyes, she renewed her own anger at me.
"It is when you're shoving it in my face. You need to learn common decency — no one wants to hear you getting it on in a public space."
I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. "Again, if you pulled your head out of your ass, you'd realize that I never said a thing in class. Sure, I never told her to stop, but," I gave her a pointed glare, "Who am I to tell people what to do? Unlike some people."
Our gazes remained connected as the stillness stretched between us. Our vehement dislike for one another was obvious as people continued to watch us. She swallowed, pulling back slightly, and I knew I'd won this round. She was retreating to lick her wounds after trying to publicly humiliate me and having that backfire on her. A commendable effort on her part, but a losing battle nonetheless. Everyone here would always have my back.
"The machine's working again," the barista whispered into the tense atmosphere.
"Thanks, Georgia," I replied, not taking my eyes off Hoodie-Girl. "Why don't you help this customer? She seems like she could do with a cup of coffee. And do you guys help people remove sticks out of their asses? If you do, be sure to help her with that too."
"Asshole," Hoodie-Girl muttered, finally dropping my gaze to look at the barista. "If you spit in my coffee, I'll go full Karen. Three sugars and extra cream. And four chocolate chip cookies. No, make it six. Oh, and I don't need help removing the stick up my ass — I kinda like how it feels." She narrowed her eyes at me. "I'll be keeping it there. You never know when you could use it to beat the shit out of someone."
I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "No apology?"
"I wasn't aware you needed one. Just because I was a little off doesn't mean I was wrong. You're still all the things I accused you of, and I still find you detestable. But," She handed over her card to pay for the cookies and the coffee, "I'm more eager to just get what I came for and leave. I have a class soon, and forgetting about your existence will be the first productive thing I've done all day."
"Ooh, ouch. How will I ever recover?" I smirked when she visibly bristled.
But she recovered quickly, giving me a smug smile. "Simple. Just go find another girl's leg to hump like the horny dog you are — that always seems to uplift your spirits."
Okay, that was insulting. "Now you're just being immature."
"Oh, like you weren't."
"I'd wager I've been more mature than you."
"Right. Because you're a shining example of maturity."
"You certainly aren't."
"Well then, neither are you."
"This conversation is going nowhere."
"This isn't a conversation. I don't converse with people I despise. This is an argument. But I agree — it's going nowhere. So let's agree to go our separate ways and never speak again."
"You've finally said something I can agree with. So why don't you just take your coffee," I swiped the cup and bag of food from Georgia's hands and thrust them into Hoodie-Girl's hands. Then, I gestured at the door. "And leave? Don't let the door hit you on the ass. Or do. I don't care."
"You're just proving my point, you know," she said, having to get the last word in. She then took an obnoxiously loud sip of her coffee before spinning around and calmly walking out of the shop, ignoring everyone around her.
I had to give it to her — balls of steel that one.
I became aware of everyone's gaze on me and shouted, "Show's over, people. Carry on with your fucking lives. Georgia. Coffee. Stat."
"Yes, sir."