Since the last thing I posted was both funny and WAY too long, here’s something serious and short.
My little piece of fiction:
That was the moment she realized she hated him.
Hated that he was right. Again.
Hated his arrogance and over-confidence. Especially knowing that it was well earned, well deserved.
Hated his overprotectiveness, and that it had saved her more than once.
Hated his elegance and perfect manners. Especially knowing that it wasn’t just a show, that it was something bred into him so long ago, he wasn’t even aware of it.
Hated his too-perfect face and too sculptured, too sexy body. Hated that he made her heart race and her brain get foolish. And especially hated that he knew that.
Hated his long-suffering patience. Hated knowing that he would wait for her no matter how long she made him wait.
Hated him with that pure, white-hot, burning hatred she knew you reserve for only those you love.