Hate Lust or More
Gah, I hate him! Lizzie thought as she crossed the room, heading to the kitchen. She had just spotted John Pritkin, the bane of her existence. Lizzie hated him with every fibre of her being. She hated the way he spoke with that pretentious upper class British accent. She hated the way his blond hair stuck up in wildest of ways. She hated the way he moved with a skilled fighter’s grace. She hated his crooked smile. She hated the sparkle in his emerald green eyes. She hated his deep resonating...