This was not my favorite city in the world. I had always been a 'Paris' kind of girl. Terribly in love with romance. And the cold. A quaint cafe, my book, his smile and a cup of coffee. This would have made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
So when I set foot in the best city of the world, I was determined to hate it with all my heart. Every single thing about it. The rush. The rains. The bridges. The lights. The confusing maps. And most of all, him.
I hated the way his face lit up when he saw the city.
I hated that he held my hands when we crossed the roads.
I hated that he looked at me while I admired the love locks on the bridge.
I hated how he refused to sit anywhere else on the train. That he sat only next to me.
I hated that we walked around for hours to find the perfect food.
I hated how good the food tasted, with him.
I hated the way he smiled when he turned down a ride on the horse carriage.
'She will love you more for this', the owner insisted.
I think he knew better.
I hated that he took pictures to send her.
I hated that he still came back to me.
I hated how happy that made me.
I think I just fell in love with hate.
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