Hate You, Till I Don't

POV: Ave

Ave Imani didn’t believe in fate.

She believed in schedules, study plans, and noise-canceling headphones. She believed in caffeine-fueled all-nighters, in her well-thumbed planner with color-coded tabs. She believed in fixing problems, not people.

Which is why when Principal Halvorsen announced the pairings for this year’s National STEM Prototype Competition, and Blake Monroe’s name landed next to hers on the team list — she nearly dropped her mechanical pencil.

“Nope,” Ave muttered under her breath.

Nia, her best friend since third grade and the only person who could decode her micro-reactions, leaned closer. “Did I hear a glitch in the Ave Imani composure system?”

Ave narrowed her eyes at the projector screen where her name blazed in traitorous bold: Ave Imani & Blake Monroe.

“I’m going to scream,” she hissed.

“I’d advise you not to,” Nia whispered, mouth twitching. “Principal Halvorsen looks like he’s one unpaid invoice away from a breakdown.”

Ave didn’t respond. Her eyes were still locked on the name beside hers — the one she hated seeing most, the one she used to save under Future Husband? on her phone until everything burned.

Blake Monroe.

Cocky. Arrogant. Infuriatingly gifted. And the last person she wanted to spend six weeks working with on something that could define her academic future.

Across the auditorium, she spotted him instantly. Blake, slouched in the middle row like he had nowhere better to be. Like this wasn’t a big deal. Like they didn’t have history thick enough to sink an entire lab bench.

And then — of course — he caught her looking.

He raised his brows.

Then had the audacity to smirk.

Ave inhaled sharply, turned away, and resisted the urge to chuck her binder at him.

Fate, she decided, could go screw itself.

---

“Team assignments are final,” Mrs. Cardenas said later, distributing folders. “Each pair will receive a private lab period, and access to design materials. You’ll also present your prototype in three stages — two internal rounds and a final pitch. Teamwork matters. Use your skills. Use each other.”

Ave flinched at the phrasing.

Use each other.

If only it were that simple.

As the bell rang, she tucked her folder under her arm and stormed toward the door. Maybe if she walked fast enough, she could outrun the situation. Outrun her past.

No such luck.

“Yo, Imani.”

She didn’t stop walking.

“Don’t make me chase you in front of people. You know I hate cardio.”

She paused. Slowly turned.

Blake Monroe stood behind her, one hand in his pocket, a confident lean in his stance that made other girls swoon and made Ave’s blood pressure spike.

“What do you want?” she asked coolly.

“To confirm you’re not going to sabotage the project just because you hate me.”

Ave crossed her arms. “I don’t hate you.”

Blake blinked. “You don’t?”

“No. Hate implies emotional investment.” She stepped closer, voice low. “I’m just professionally allergic to your existence.”

“Oof,” Blake said with a grin. “Glad to know we’re starting this with honesty.”

Ave clenched her jaw. “I’m here to win. That’s all.”

“Same.” He leaned in just enough to make her heartbeat stutter — but she didn’t move. “And if you think I’ll let our history screw that up, you’re not giving me enough credit.”

“I never did,” Ave said.

They stood there for another second — not friends, not rivals, something sharp in between.

Then she turned and walked away.

She didn’t look back.

But she knew he did.

---

Later that night, Ave sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the project folder.

Her phone buzzed.

She ignored it.

Buzzed again.

Sighed, picked it up.

Blake Monroe:

Figured you already mapped out half the project.

Mind sharing your evil genius thoughts?

I’ll even say please.

Ave rolled her eyes and typed:

Ave:

Don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t a date. It’s war.

Blake:

Oof. Harsh. But fair.

Ave:

Meet me tomorrow. Library. 4 PM. Don’t be late.

Blake:

Wouldn’t dream of it.

She tossed the phone aside.

It buzzed again.

Blake:

Also. Congrats on being the only person who’s ever scared me and impressed me in the same sentence.

Ave smiled.

Just a little.

But she didn’t reply.