Chapter 1
#1: Never underestimate Noah Carter
The first rule of hating someone is really simple:Never let them know you hate them.
Because the second they realize they bother you, they win.
and Noah Carter had been winning for three years straight now.
I didn’t know exactly when or how it started, but it did. maybe it was the first week of freshmen year when he walked into the university introductory class ten freaking minutes late, wearing sunglasses indoors like he was auditioning for some theatrical performance like an annoying movie character.
Or maybe it was when professor Hayes asked him why he thought deadlines mattered, and he smiled his charming dimpled smile like he had never heard of the word ‘consequence’ before.
“Because”, Noah had said, leaning back in his chair as if he’s on a cool beach vacation, “without deadlines, people like me would probably never do anything.”
The entire class laughed at it as if it was the joke of the year. hahaha.
I didn’t.
that was my first mistake.
Noah Carter noticed everything. and by everything I meanEvery. Single. Thing.
Especially when he realizes someone wasn’t impressed by him. its like he could sniff it from hill tops.
Three years later, he was still the same. annoyingly more so.
He was the definition of Campus Royalty. Everyone knew him. He knew everyone. Professors loved his confidence, students loved his charm, and somehow every single person who crossed his path thinks they are ‘special’, or ‘gifted’, or, oh! the very recent one, ‘honored’.
which was absolutely hilarious.
Because Noah Carter had mastered the art of making everyone feel like they were his favorite person in the room, even if the room had 100 people in it!
Spoiler alert:
They weren’t.
I knew because I had been watching him for years now.
Not in the creepy, stalking way, but more of the journalistic way.
there is an absolute difference between the two.
I sat in the corner booth of The Daily Grind, my laptop opened on the dingy wooden table, my coffee untouched and now probably cold as I started at the very white, very blank document In front of me.
Except for one thing, The title in big, bold, black font.
Seven Rules to Hate Noah Carter.
It had started as joke, though now, I can’t say much.
A private list in my notes app after Noah ruined yet another perfectly good group project by turning everything into a competition.
But then I gave some thought to it.
A few years into this university had thought me one important thing:
people loved the version of theirs they created in their heads.
Noah Carter was the Campus’ golden boy.
The athlete.
The businessman.
The dream boyfriend of many girls.
The guy who remembered everyone’s name.
The guy who smiled at professors and help freshmen find their way to class.
The guy everyone assumed was perfect.
And I was going to prove that wrong.
My fingers were hovering itchingly over the keyboard.
Rule 1: never trust someone who knows how charming they are.
I typed and smiled.
Finally, Something interesting.
“Are you writing about me?”
My smiles turned into a scowl.
I didn’t even have to look up to know who it is. to whom the stupidly annoying deep voice belonged to.
Only one person in the whole campus had the ability to ruin my concentration in under five words.
“No,” I replied.
the feet of the chair from across me scrapes against the floor.
Noah sat down anyway. of course he did.
“You answered too quickly,” he said.
I closed my laptop halfway and shoots my narrowed eyes to sparkly blue eyes. ugh, stupid eyes. “and you sat down without being invited.” I gave him a sarcastic smile.
“You noticed.”
“I have eyes.”
He smiled.
That stupid, confident, dimpled smile.
The one that made everyone else forget they were even annoyed with him a few seconds ago.
Unfortunately for Noah, I’m immune to it. All it took was only years of patiently practicing.
“What are you working on?” he asked me as if we were even friends.
“Something you’re not involved in.”
“Sounds suspicious.”
“Maybe I am.”
I stared at him.
Noah Carter was unfairly attractive in the most irritating way possible in the human kind. Messy brown hair, confident posture, and that effortless attitude of someone who had never had to question whether people would like him.
I hated that.
Mostly because I had spent years questioning everything.
My writing.
My choices.
My future.
Meanwhile, Noah walked through life as if its some silver platter and all he has to think and worry about was whether his shoes are polished enough to be reflected on the platter. As if the universe had already given him a five start review.
“what?” he asked.
I realized I had been staring.
I immediately looked away, my cheeks flushing slightly out of embarrassment.
“Nothing.”
“that’s usually what people say when its definitely something.”
“You’re very observant for someone who thinks sunglasses indoor are acceptable.”
His eyebrows quirked up immediately.
“You remember that?”
“Unfortunately.”
He laughed.
Like actually laughed.
As if I had just said something genuinely funny.
And that annoyed me even more so.
“You know,” he said, leaning forward, his unfairly attractive veiny arms resting on top of the creaky wooden able, “most people try to be nicer when they’re asking for something.”
“I’m not asking you for anything.”
“Not yet.”
I narrowed my eyes, if they can be narrowed any further.
“What do you want, Carter?”
He tapped the table twice.
“maybe I just wanted to see why you looked like you were planning a murder with a laptop.”
“I was writing.”
“About?”
“Something.”
“Very specific.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I know.”
For a moment, we just started at each other.
this was the exact problem with Noah.
He was impossible to ignore.
And I hated that.
Because ignoring him would have been easier.
If he was just arrogant, I could dislike him.
If he was just stupidly charming, I could dismiss him.
But Noah Carter was annoyingly complicated.
And complicated people were dangerous.
Especially for writers.
Because writers loved stories.
And Noah Carter looked like a person who had lots of secrets.
My phone buzzed on top of the table before I could say anything else.
A notification appeared.
THE CAMPUS CHRONICLES: New Editor Assignment Posted.
I opened it.
Then froze.
“No.”
Noah looked amused.
“What?”
I slowly looked up.
“You.”
His smiles widened.
“what about me?”
I turned my phone around for him to see.
The announcement was simple.
Special Feature Assignment: Student Profiles - Noah Carter & Ivy Bennet.
Two names.
one article.
Six weeks.
I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.
This was an utter nightmare.
Noah leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying my reaction.
“Looks like we’re partners.”
“I’d rather interview a brick wall.”
“Wow.”
“Actually, a brick wall might have better conversation skills.”
he laughed again.
And somehow, that was even worse.
Because for one second-
Just one second-
I forgot I was supposed to hate him.
Then I remembered my list.
Seven rules.
Seven reasons.
Seven reminders.
I typed my very first sentence of my article:
Noah Carter is the most frustrating person I have ever met.
Unfortunately, I had six weeks to prove it.
And somehow, I had a feeling he was going to make this very difficult.
