“Will you hate me if I suggest you work from home this week?” She leans against the fabric covered half-wall in a poor attempt at nonchalance. It wouldn’t be a Friday morning if I hadn’t already considered changing my name at least once. The only member of the family not holed up at my parent’s estate-again. They don’t care about me, but they want a sound bite, and I’m the rebel. This is new and awful and unexpected for my co-workers, and I feel like shit for bringing this into their lives. They’ll go away soon.” I’m talking about the various scuzzy photographers and videographers from media outlets camped in front of the converted townhouse that houses the employment agency I work at. A mix of pity and annoyance which I understand and resent at the same time.

“Hailey?” I glance up at my boss, standing beside my cubicle, and wince at the look on her face. There is literally not a single person in the entire world I want to hear from right now. My phone vibrates in my purse, and my skin crawls. Long story short, my family is a freaking train wreck, and I was an idiot for thinking I could have a regular job and pretend I’m a regular girl. None of them have a sister who is stupid enough to believe a powerful man when he promises no-one will find out about their affair. These are good people, regular middle-class, law-abiding folks. My co-workers all understand, which makes me feel all the more guilty for bringing this shitstorm to their doorstep. I have two monthly reports to run and a mile-long, hand-scribbled list of fixes for our website from my boss, but I can’t concentrate on work right now.

I pick at the blueberry muffin on my desk, which my friend Taryn gave me out of pity since I can’t go outside. This is the complete story of Cole Parker and Hailey Dashford Reid. If a genie granted me three wishes, I’d ask for Cole Parker to never look at me again, that I’d forget the dark promise in his eyes, and that just once, before he vanished from my life completely, that he’d push me up against a wall and fuck me. So I push her buttons in the bad way, making her hate me. Dirty, up-against-the-wall, my-hand-in-her-pants kind of way.īut that’s not possible, because I’m dark and she’s light, and we both know it. And it's going to get much worse before it ever gets better.

Hate F*@k by Ainsley Booth