I hated him until I didn't - Episode 1

Ugh. Let me just say it — I’ve hated Ryan Carter since the first day of freshman year.
He’s the richest guy at Ridgewood High. His dad owns half the town or something like that. Ryan drives a sleek black Range Rover to school, wears expensive clothes that still somehow look careless, and acts like the whole world is beneath him. He’s the biggest bully around — always pushing people, making rude jokes, and laughing with his crew like they own the place.
And for some reason, he loved picking on me.
It was Tuesday morning. I was standing at my locker, trying to grab my books quickly when he came up behind me and slammed the locker door shut. Hard.
I jumped and spun around. “What is your problem, Ryan?”
He leaned against the lockers with that cocky grin, looking down at me. His dark hair was messy in that expensive way, and he smelled like cologne that probably cost more than my whole outfit.
“You’re always in my way, Olivia,” he said, his voice low and lazy. “Maybe stop being such a goody-two-shoes all the time.”
I glared at him. “And maybe you should stop acting like your money makes you better than everyone else.”
For a second, he just stared at me. Those blue eyes didn’t look amused anymore. They looked… curious. Like I’d actually surprised him.
Most girls at school giggled and flirted with him because of his money and his looks. But not me. I couldn’t stand him.
He stepped a little closer, towering over me. “You really don’t like me, huh?” he said softly.
“Not even a little bit.”
He smiled slowly, like my answer excited him. “That’s new. I like it.”
My heart did a weird flip, and I hated myself for it. Before I could say anything else, the bell rang loud above us.
Ryan straightened up and gave me one last look. “See you around, Liv.”
He walked off with his hands in his pockets, his expensive leather jacket swinging as he went.
The rest of the day, I kept thinking about that moment. Why did he keep messing with me? And why did my stomach feel funny when he said my name like that?
Later, when I was walking home, that familiar black Range Rover slowed down beside me. Ryan rolled down the window, one hand on the steering wheel.
“Get in,” he said. “I’ll drop you off.”
I laughed in disbelief. “No thanks. I don’t need your charity.”
He chuckled. “You’re really stubborn. It’s kinda cute.”
He didn’t drive away. He just followed me slowly down the street, watching me with that same intense look.
When I turned into my street, he called out, “Don’t worry, Olivia. I’m not done with you yet.”
I didn’t turn around, but my cheeks were burning.
That night, lying in bed, I couldn’t stop replaying his words.
I still hated Ryan Carter… didn’t I?