Hate /hay-t/

Verb

1. Have intense or passionate dislike for (someone).

2. Have strong aversion to (something).

3. Used politely to express one's regret or embarrassment at doing something.

4. Express strong dislike for; criticize or abuse.

Synonyms: loathe, abhor, dislike, despise, detest, execrate, etc.

Love /luv/

Noun

1. An intense feeling of deep affection.

2. A person or thing that one loves.

3. To feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to (someone).

4. A great interest and pleasure in (something).

5. A formula for ending an affectionate letter.

6. A score of 0 in tennis and few other sports.

Synonyms: Care very much for, feel deep affection for, hold very dear, adore, endearment, intimacy, be devoted to, dote on, idolize, worship, etc.

Love/Hate

/luv/hay-t/

Adjective

1. Refers to someone or something about which you have mixed feelings, both strong positive feelings and strong negative ones.

2. Characterized simultaneously by feelings of love and hate.

3. (Of a relationship) Involving feelings of both love and hate, often simultaneously.

Synonyms: None.

-15 Weeks Before-

Sometimes I get the feeling he hates me. Sometimes I get the feeling that he loves me. Sometimes I get the feeling that I hate him. Sometimes I get the feeling I love him. My mind whirls at the course of his actions, and it makes me want to punch him. I don't like being confused, nor do I like being played with. But, of course, 32 days ago when I got hired, Four was in need of a partner, and we got assigned to each other. I soon learned that he was a hot, cocky, single guy that nobody dares to mess with. Other than me. I don't give two shits about how many people he's knocked out in a matter of seconds—four, if you must know. Four people, four seconds. But Four is one of those people that always wants to be alone unless he's with a certain person.

You see, he has a weird personality. Around me, he seems to be cocky, arrogant, and boastful, but around others, he seems jaded, dangerous, and valiant. But then, the rarest one of all, is the one when he is cute instead of hot, confident instead of cocky, shy instead of jaded, and protective instead of dangerous. That part of him is much more appealing, though. If he were like that all the time, I know I'd have a crush on him. And if he were strong, but sensitive. Playful, but respectful. Competitive, but fair. Creative, but structured. Accomplished, but humble. I know he has all of those qualities; I've seen them. But they're rare.

Around me, he's 85% arrogant and 15% crush-worthy. Around others he's 100% closed-off and 0% appealing. If he were how he was around me around others, he'd be Mr. Popular around here, I can guarantee it.

"Helloooo, Tris. Aren't you looking nice today?" Four asks, referring to my outfit. It's just my brown leather jacket I wear every day over a low-scoop black tank-top and stretchy skinny jeans, just in case I need to kick someone's ass, along with my gun in my holster on my belt.

I roll my eyes. "Lord Douchebag."

"Queen Bitchface. How are you?" He crosses his arms and sits in my desk chair.

"Fantastic. Now can you please get up?"

His face lights up like a child's on Christmas. "Is it a boy? Is that why you're acting so fantastically? It's totally a boy," he says like a sixteen-year-old girl.

"No! In case you don't remember, we were together last night working, and there's no way I'm fantastic because of you of all people." I cross my arms.

"Speaking of which, I figured it out this morning."

"Great! Where is it?"

"We're sent out for a raid in fifteen minutes."

"Where is it?" I ask, getting annoyed.

"Aw, is Twissy angwy?" Four puts out his full bottom lip.

"No, I'm impatient. Tell me and get the hell up from my seat," I grit out out my clenched teeth.

"I'm actually quite comfyable where I am, thank you very much." He puts his hands behind his head.

"Comfyable? What are you—three?" I scoff.

"No, I'm Four." He sticks his tongue out. "I thought you'd know my name after an entire month—"

"32 days, actually," I interrupt.

He ignores me and continues, "—of working together and being partners!" He puts a hand over his heart.

"Yeah, great, whatever, can you get up now?"

"We're actually being sent out soon, so…" Four stands up and grabs my hand and starts swinging them.

"I fucking hate you," I huff out, but I don't pull my hand back.

"Aw! I love you though! You don't love me?" he pouts.

"You want me to admit I love you? Hell no. You're so stupid you have to call 411 to find the number for 911."

"You and beer bottles have a lot in common. You're both empty from the neck up."

"Clever, Four. But are you going bald, or is your neck blowing a bubble?"

"Hey! I have a full head of hair! I'm 24, for god's sake," he says. "Words can't describe your outfit, so I'll throw up."

"I thought you said I was looking nice today…?" I point out.

He doesn't say anything, just glares.

"And…I win. Again," I say as we jump into the van with no seats that takes nine of us to where the criminals are hiding. With us is Zeke, Uriah, Marlene, Shauna, Will, Nita, and Lauren.

"That's cute." He winks. "You think we're finished. I promise not to make fun of your height. I would never stoop that low."

"You know, I'm kind of glad you're tall, it gives me more of you to hate," I say.

"I've seen tables with nicer looking legs than you," he insults.

"You should see me in heels," I say with a wink.

"But do you know what'd make your face cute? A paper bag," he says.

"Do you know what I like about your face?" I pause. "Me neither."

"Ohhh," Uriah says.

Four and I look at him, glaring.

"Sorry," he mumbles. Then I realize that the rest of them are staring at us, listening to our whole conversation, looking amused. Excluding Will, who is driving and works all of the technical equipment, Lauren, and Nita. Lauren and Nita because they hate me since I'm to only person Four talks to.

All of us except Will are cops/detectives. Will works in the IT department. He manages all of our headsets for emergencies and is the one that calls for backup. We wear little cameras so he can see what goes on inside. He's also a cop, but he majors in technology and stuff. It's not very appealing if you ask me. He comes in at last minute emergency situations when backup is on their way. Hopefully that'll never happen again, because one time enough for me.

We are silent the rest of the fifteen minute ride, not even a cough coming from any of us. All of the bulletproof vests are lined up on the walls of the van, so we all put them on, along with the guns hanging next to them.

Once we arrive at the warehouse, I get out first, being the leader of the group. I quietly tiptoe towards the door, putting my back against the wall.

It's the things like this that keep me going. I'm still making the right decisions, even though I'm on an adrenaline rush. I love adrenaline rushes; they make me feel like I can do anything, anywhere, anytime. I know that I am a brave woman, but sometimes I make reckless decisions when I lead raids. I've made a reckless decision before, and it hardly payed off. Yes, we got the criminals, but I lost something much more valuable than that. If I had one chance to change anything in my life, it'd be the day of July 9th, 2014. Almost four months ago it happened, today being November 1st, 2014.

I couldn't control what happened, nor could I control the decisions he made. I tell myself that every single day.

I put my hand up with three fingers. Tw—Then Four, the bastard, kicks the door down and shouts, "CPD, everybody put your hands up!" His voice booms against the walls.

A few people go scattering, but are soon pounced on by us officers. There are about 15, and we all quickly take them down. We already have backup cars waiting to take people back to the station for questioning. Once every criminal is in their car, we all load back up in the van.

When we get back to the station, I lead Four behind the building so no one can here the loud conversation we're about to have.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I ask, yelling. "I was the leader of that raid and you do not go around doing whatever you think should be done. You always follow my orders, no matter how stupid you think they are, or I am," I yell. "Am I clear?" I point my finger at his chest.

He looks me in the eye, but doesn't say anything.

I jab my finger into the center of his chest. "Do I make myself clear?" I yell, almost as loud as can be.

He nods.

And with that, I walk back through the metal door, slamming it behind me.

"And then he just kicked down the door, like I wasn't even there! Do you know what that feels like? The douchebag completely ignored me, his leader, mind you, and one day he's going to get into major trouble. He's lucky I let him off with just screaming at him. God, I hate him," I complain to Zeke, Shauna, Christina, Will, Uriah, and Marlene as we sit at our big, round booth at the bar.

"Hon," Shauna says, "everyone hates him. Just learn to accept the fact that he isn't going to leave you alone, so you might as well just go with it. The more you ignore him, the more you'll tempt him."

I take a sip of my beer. "But it's not like anyone else hates him the way I hate him. Everyone else hates him because he's just not a very open person and comes off as rude, when really he's just shy—"

"Tris," Marlene says, "if I knew you any better, I'd say you were defending him."

"What? No. I'm just saying that no one can hate the asshole more than I can. Not only does he purposely do things to irritate me, but he disobeyed orders from his raid leader! You don't just do that!" I exclaim angrily.

"She's right," Zeke agrees. "Mar, Chris, you wouldn't know because you haven't met him, but I've seen the way he messes with her. It's brutal."

"Then I took him behind the building outside so no one could here us—"

"Um, just so you know," Uriah says, "Everyone could hear you, and we were all cracking up. Am I right?" He looks around.

Everyone nods except Mar and Chris, who don't work with us.

"Whatever." I roll my eyes. "He deserved it."

Then Zeke says, "You should see them. They insult each other like there's no tomorrow. Like today, Tris said, and I quote, 'You know what I like about your face?' Then she paused. Then 'Me neither.' Clever, right?"

Everyone nods and chuckles again.

"You two seem like an old married couple who need a divorce." Chris laughs.

"More like Tom & Jerry," I say with a chuckle.

Uri tips his beer. "True statement. But you should have seen Nita and Lauren, the bitches." He laughs. "Oh, you know, when you and Four were biting each other's heads off."

"Oh, trust me. I saw them. I'd gladly trade either of them places." I pause. "But then again, I'd rather not be a whore." I laugh, as do the rest of my friends.

"I've never understood why they want Four," says Shauna, "other than the fact that he's good-looking."

"Well, on rare occasions he can be extremely nice, but that's only around me. I don't think he has any family either, which is another reason why he's so damn bitter all the time."

"Wait. Do you think he's doing it because he likes you?" asks Chris. "Like, you know, the middle school thing where the boy and the girl act like they hate each other so the other doesn't find out they like them?"

"You think he's doing this because he likes me?" I ask incredulously.

She shrugs. "It's common with guys that don't know how to express their feelings. Oh, and did you know the highest percentage of where future married couples meet is in the workplace?"

"Hah!" I yell. "Even if he and I were the last people on Earth, there's no way in hell I'd be getting with him."