All Chapters of Hate You, Till I Don't : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

80 Chapters

Chapter Twenty-One: Second Place, First Fight

POV: Blended — Ave & Blake Ave — Tuesday Morning, Announcement Day She didn’t expect to win. Okay, she did. She just didn’t expect not to. Ave stared at the digital leaderboard on the Crescent Hill website, refreshing the page for the fourth time. It blinked, reloaded, and stayed the same: > Stage 2 — Regional Pitch Round: 1st Place – Raven Dawson (Westhill Tech) – 97.8% 2nd Place – Ave Imani & Blake Monroe – 94.3% Second place. Not even a tight second. Her heart didn’t drop—it cracked. Clean, sharp, like ice under weight. Behind her, Nia was scrolling the same screen. “I’m going to fight someone.” “I’m going to code a virus,” Ave muttered. “Just for Westhill.” “Not worth it,” Nia said. “Raven probably has malware for breakfast.” The door opened. She didn’t have to look to know who it was. Blake walked in, hoodie slung over one shoulder, sipping a green smoothie. Too calm. Too chill. As if they hadn’t just gotten bodied in public. “Yo,” he said, sliding into the chair

Chapter Twenty-Two: Not Friends, Not Enemies

POV: Ave --- Friday Afternoon – One Week After Results Ave had exactly three minutes to grab her notes, avoid Raven Dawson, and escape the robotics lab without having to speak to Blake. She failed at all three. Raven was in the doorway, flicking a mechanical pen open and closed with that smug, lipsticked mouth tilted into a half-smile. “Second place suits you, Imani,” she said, voice silk-wrapped steel. Ave gave her a bland look. “You’d know. It’s your permanent address.” Raven’s smile thinned. “Try not to cry when I take regionals, sweetheart.” “I only cry when I see bad code and bad brows. You qualify for both.” Raven flinched. Ave stepped around her into the room, heart pounding like it always did after a fight—but she didn’t let it show. She didn’t have time for Raven’s drama, not with the next challenge looming. And not with Blake sitting exactly where she didn’t want him: middle of the room, arms crossed, half-smile already loaded. “Didn’t take you for a fan of ver

Chapter Twenty-Three: That Stupid Soft Look

--- POV: Ave --- Monday Morning – Hallway Between Second and Third Period Ave Imani didn’t believe in fairy tales. Not anymore. But the way Blake Monroe looked at her in the hallway that morning made her question everything she’d sworn off since middle school. It was soft. It was stupid. It was dangerous. One second she was reaching into her locker for a fresh set of batteries for the voltage module, and the next, her stomach was curling like she'd just stepped off a rollercoaster. Because when she turned—just to check the time—Blake was across the hallway, leaning against the wall like he had nowhere better to be. And he was staring. At her. Not in a creepy way. Not even in the arrogant Blake Monroe kind of way. No. This look was… soft. Gentle. The kind of look you only saw on book covers or in the last ten minutes of a painfully romantic movie. And then—worst of all—he smiled. Not a smirk. Not a grin. A smile. Small. Real. Like she was something warm in a cold

Chapter Twenty-Four: Blowtorch Confessions

POV: Blended (Ave & Blake) --- Ave – Robotics Lab, 8:12 PM Ave's sweatshirt was clinging to her back from the heat of the soldering station. The windows were fogged again, her fingers smudged with graphite and coil dust. The whir of the 3D printer was the only constant sound, and even it had started sounding like white noise to her ears. She was tired. She was wired. She was annoyed. With the project. With the stress. With Blake. Mostly Blake. "You didn’t align the sensor node," she said, voice tight as she adjusted the wiring. Blake didn’t look up from the schematics. "It is aligned." "It’s off by two millimeters." "Ave, two millimeters won’t break the system." Ave turned sharply. “You sure? Because that’s how we fried the panel last time. Your ‘close enough’ logic.” He exhaled, still not looking at her. “This isn’t about the node.” “Oh? Then what’s it about?” Now he looked up. And his eyes were sharp. “You.” The air tensed. Like a balloon stretched too tight. “You

Chapter Twenty-five: It Wasn’t Just a Prank

POV: Blended (Ave + Blake) --- Ave – Monday Afternoon, Computer Lab The lab smelled like plastic and burnt wires and betrayal. Ave sat frozen, the glow from her screen casting hollow shadows across her face. Her hands were poised on the keyboard, but she hadn’t typed a word in nearly fifteen minutes. Not since she heard the conversation in the hallway. > “It was a joke, man. Tyree dared him.” “Dared him?” “Yeah. Monroe was like, ‘Watch this,’ and then bam. Closet. Lips. Instant legend.” Ave had stood there, just around the corner, her spine straight, ears straining, heart breaking. > “Can’t believe she actually fell for it.” She hadn’t moved. Not even when the door slammed shut behind the guys who said it. Now she stared blankly at the screen. Her vision was blurry, but her rage was sharp—so sharp it could’ve sliced glass. The cursor blinked on the terminal. Mocking her. Waiting for a response she couldn’t give. Not until she had answers. And then Blake walked in. Of c

Chapter Twenty-Six: Kiss Me or Kill Me

POV: Blended (Blake + Ave) Blake — Tuesday Evening, Robotics Lab They were the last ones in the room. Again. The others had filtered out after finishing their circuit tests, chattering about the next qualifier round and who’d make the top four. Ave had said nothing all evening, and Blake wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. All he knew was that she hadn’t left. And that had to mean something. She stood over the circuit board, lips pursed in focus, a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes. Blake wanted to tuck it behind her ear. He didn’t. Instead, he fiddled with the last sensor module, feeling the air stretch tight between them. “Wiring’s clean,” she said, voice neutral. “If this doesn’t burn out, we’ll pass heat tolerance testing.” “Guess we make a good team.” Her shoulders twitched, like she didn’t know how to take that. Blake cleared his throat. “About yesterday…” “No.” He blinked. “No?” “I can’t talk about it. Not tonight.” His jaw worked. “Okay. Then I won

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Basement Lock-In

POV: Blended (Ave + Blake) Ave — Thursday Evening, Robotics Lab It started with thunder. Loud. Sudden. Like the universe wanted to shake the ground beneath her. Ave jumped as lightning lit the sky outside the window. Rain pelted the glass, hard and fast. “Great,” she muttered, looking at the time. 7:46 PM. The storm had rolled in faster than expected. Blake, hunched beside her over their almost-complete prototype, didn’t flinch. He was too focused, forehead creased as he rechecked the final circuit board. “The sealant’s drying wrong,” he muttered. “Humidity’s killing it.” “Everything’s killing it,” Ave said. “We should’ve left twenty minutes ago.” “I just need to tighten this relay port—” “Monroe, please, the power’s been flickering for an hour.” As if summoned, the lights overhead blinked once. Twice. Then died. Complete darkness. Ave froze. “Tell me you brought a flashlight.” “Nope,” Blake said cheerfully. “But I brought mints.” “Blake—” “I’m kidding,” he said, and

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Panic Button

POV: Ave --- Saturday – Ave’s Room, 2:14 AM Ave’s room was silent, but her brain was chaos. She sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop open, code glowing back at her. But her fingers weren’t typing. They were trembling. Too many thoughts. Too many emotions. Too many almosts. Almost kissed him. Almost let herself believe he meant it. Almost asked him to stay when the janitor unlocked the door at 1:00 AM and they left like nothing happened. Almost, almost, almost. She hated that word. Her phone buzzed with a message from Blake: > Made it home. Don’t forget to sleep. Prototype’s still trash without your logic loop. You’re kinda the brain, Ave. Night. She didn’t reply. Not because she didn’t want to. But because if she opened that door now, everything would flood in. She stared at her screen for another twenty minutes, then closed the laptop and curled into herself, fighting the ache in her chest that had no name. --- Sunday – Robotics Lab, Noon She didn’t sleep. Didn’

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Whispers in the Hall

POV: Ave --- The hallway always had a sound. Not just footsteps or locker slams or the distant hum of overhead lights—but that low, electric buzz of teenage voices trying to be quiet. It was the sound of secrets. Of people pretending not to care while watching everything. Ave used to be good at tuning it out. But not today. Not when the whispers had her name in them. Not when they carried the weight of truth she hadn’t given permission to be told. > “That’s her.” “I heard it wasn’t just the kiss. There were texts. Late ones.” “He used her and bragged about it. Now they’re playing couple for a school prize?” Ave walked faster, chin high, face like stone. She didn’t stop until she reached her locker. She slammed it open, not gently, and dropped her books in with more force than necessary. Across the hall, she caught eyes. A junior girl. Bright red braids. Phone in her hand. And when their gazes met, the girl didn’t look away. She smirked. Ave’s throat tightened. She sp

Chapter Thirty: Blake's Backstory Subtopics

POV: Blake --- The Monroe house looked perfect from the outside. White columns. Black shutters. Polished brass door handles and a wraparound porch that screamed old money and generational perfection. The kind of place that appeared in brochures for top universities and legacy scholarships. Every flower was trimmed. Every shingle aligned. The whole image was curated, sanitized, and breathtaking in its deception. But Blake Monroe had long known the truth: Perfection was decoration. And his family’s reputation? Painted in layers of performance and denial. He dropped his backpack by the hallway bench and walked past the untouched formal living room. His father’s voice trailed in from the study, low and clipped. Probably on another call. Probably already disappointed. Blake didn’t pause to check. He headed upstairs. He didn’t need another speech today. He already carried the weight of it all. --- Blake – Age 10 He sat perfectly straight in his piano lesson. Eyes forward. Shoulder

1 2 3 4 5 6 8

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP