A/N: So, to celebrate the end of my exams I wanted to post a short something here. This OS is inspired by the poem from the movie 10 things I hate about you.

For those who are following my story One Last Phone Call, I'm working on chapter 4 and hope to be posting it soon.

I hope you enjoy this; if so, a review would make my weekend!

She hated the way he drove her car. She didn't like not being the one in control. And he drove too fast; sometimes only a couple of miles over the speed limit to mock her, a woman of the law.

She hated the way he talked to her sometimes. Like he was her boss, like they - she - would be lost without him. He just had to be the smartest person in the room.

She hated how he was always right. Because he was the smartest person in the room. And he always kept her guessing, or it'd "ruin the surprise".

She hated it when he stared at her. His piercing blue eyes seemed to look right through her. It was as if he could see her soul, and it was unnerving.

She hated the way he could read her mind. She was translucent, he told her one day, and he always knew when she was lying. No matter how high she put up her walls.

She hated it when he lied to her. It always felt like a slap in the face. After everything she'd done for him, all the covering up and missed opportunities she'd sacrificed during the years, it was as if he still didn't trust her enough with the truth sometimes.

She hated how he would apologize for something when he would do it again in the future. Especially when he would look her in the eyes with all the sincerity in the world. That probably counted as lying to her face.

She hated it when he played her, used her. She didn't care if it was for the greater cause; she deserved far more than to be treated like a pawn in his game. And yet he would take her for granted, like she was no more than a commodity in his eyes.

She hated him so much sometimes, it made her sick.

She hated that he could make her smile. Especially when she was supposed to stay mad at him. No matter the circumstances, he always knew how.

Even worse when he made her cry. Never in front of him. But she had shed a few tears on his behalf on lonely nights, for something he said - or hadn't found the courage to.

She hated how he would put himself in danger only to achieve his goal. He'd be selfish and childish, and think of no one else but himself. And she hated him for that; he knew she needed him alive by her side, yet he still acted so carelessly.

She hated it when he was not around. And the fact that he didn't answer her calls, nor called back. Especially when that son of a bitch knew she worried, cared too much for her well-being.

But mostly, she hated the way she didn't hate him, couldn't hate him.

Not even close.

Not even a little bit.

Not even at all.