“It’s easier for me to hate people. It’s the only way I know how to live.”
“Are you saying that you’re a man who can’t fall in love?”
“It isn’t part of me.”
“Just like eighty per cent of the male population then.”
“That’s probably true – even though I think you’ve exaggerated the percentage a little,” he says, trying to be light-hearted.
Seriously?
“It works differently for me. I hate everyone. No exceptions.”
“I’m not sure I get where you’re going with this.”
“It’s the first choice I make when I meet someone. It’s instinctive.”
“Has your family never thought of getting you help? Maybe sitting down with a psychologist would’ve worked?”
He chuckles, then smooths down his hair with a hand, his eyes piercing through mine. He doesn’t hide away like the other times. He looks at me – really looks at me – and I keep my heart firmly stifled down.
“You…you’re a woman I should hate, Christine. And I’m really trying. But that’s not like me. I don’t normally have to try – hate comes naturally to me, you know?”
“I’m not sure, but I think I’ll have to call 999 in a minute.”
He comes towards me, and I step back again.
“I want to try not to hate you.”
This conversation is taking a worrying turn.
“You could try forgiving me for being a fucking bastard.”
“What’s the point?” I shrug. “We’re not even friends, and I don’t think we ever will be.”
“I don’t think so either,” he says, a tired smile playing on his lips.
“I’ve ordered pizza,” Evan pipes up, wandering into the living room and cutting short our argument. “They’ll be here in ten minutes.”
“Okay, the money’s in my bag.”
“I got you a pizza too, Ryan.”
I turn suddenly towards him, glaring daggers.
“I thought you’d be staying for dinner.”
“Well, you thought wrong. Ryan was just leaving.”
“Thanks, Evan, but I don’t think I’ll stick around.”
“I’ve invited you.”
“Evan…”
“Come on, Mum. It’s just a pizza.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Ryan beats me to it.
