Player Hating Novels & Stories

How is it that I hate a trait of his that at one point I truly loved so much? “You know fuck all.” He simply smirks, an antagonising smile that makes me want to claw his eyes out. “Sure,” he remarks in an extremely patronising tone. Oh, I fucking hate Zion King with every fucking inch of my being. “Fuck. You.”

"You can laugh if you want, otherwise when you are with me either you behave like a dead person or you scream, cry or keep hitting me nothing else, well I can feel that you hate me so much! Huh? but baby I'm fucking enjoy it! Hatred makes me happy, gives me satisfaction. Which I can not Express in those words. I feel so happy when people hate me, cursing me it gaves new energy in my body. And you know what your hate is giving me a lot of relief these days, I'm loving it, Well leave it to me. By the way, maybe you have seen something very interesting, somewhere inside that violated that touched the wire of your heart cause your face expression clearly tells that." Christian told me all hi

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with liking a boy, you know.” “I know that,” I shot back. “And I don’t got a problem with it. For other people.” I ran a hand over my face, frustration burning in my chest. “But that ain’t me, man. I don’t like niggas. And I especially don’t like him.” Quinton kept staring at me. “I swear I don’t,” I insisted. “He a rival. Our teams hate each other. I been hating him. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sounds… great.” I hate hockey. The cloying suffocating smell of sweat. The constant grinding noise. The pandemonium of shouting, horns, and whistles. Then there’s the violence of it. The way the players slam each other against the glass. It's a dumb sport. A spectacle of violence and aggression. And tonight, I’m going to be a spectator. I keep my disappointment to myself. Tony doesn’t need to know how much I hate this. He doesn’t need to know that I had imagined a different night, a different kind of closeness. He just needs me to be here. So I’ll be here.

I said, rubbing my chin. I’m never going to let him take what’s mine, he never liked father, and father never liked him, always trying to be alone and spiteful, I hated that, besides he pushed me off a railing when we were little, I’m not going to let him have his cake and still eat it. I picked up my phone to dial a number “It’s time I did things my way” I muttered, dialing. “Hey hot stuff” I heard her call over the phone, I rolled my eyes, she’s only attracted to the wealthy, just the type I’m looking for.

“Cross my heart and hope to die, I will never do that. I would honestly love to see this competition and be your personal cheerleader this time.” “Why do you want to go so bad?” “Because this is what you love, and I want to see it. You come to my games all the time, it’s the same thing, is it not? Friends have to support friends.” I wanted to cry at that statement. It was all I had ever wanted, but because of him, I never made any friends before.

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I had already learned not to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I turned away, walked down the steps, and pretended I couldn’t feel the mud squish between my toes. He followed me with his eyes the whole time. I felt it—like heat against the back of my neck. That stare of his. Heavy. Focused. I didn’t know it then, but that stare would haunt me for years. It wasn’t the last time he called me names. He had a collection of insults just for me. “Vulture Vee,” “Creepy Vee,” “Vee the Invisible.” He was creative like that. Every week, a new version of me he hated.

“Happiness doesn’t get you drafted.” And there it is. The real truth. Not even hidden anymore. Coach looks disgusted. “You’d rather have a miserable NHL player than a healthy son?” “Healthy?” my father snaps. “He got into a nationally televised fight because of that girl.” “Because somebody insulted someone he loves!” Coach fires back. The rink goes silent again. Because that word hangs there now. Love. Real. Unavoidable. My father looks at me sharply. “You’re proving exactly why she’s dangerous.”

Something uncomfortable. Something I hated immediately.