Make Me Hate You

“Hey, gorgeous,” Jacob said the next morning, his lazy grin filling my laptop’s screen once our call loaded. The instant I saw his smile and his messy, just-woke-up shag of strawberry blond hair, I smiled.

“Not so gorgeous right now,” I pointed out, gesturing to the sweaty bird’s nest of a bun on top of my head and the lack of makeup, lack of sleep, lack of anything remotely close too cute. I hadn’t even showered since my run this morning, and I was glad he couldn’t smell me through the screen.

“You’re always beautiful. How’s my girl today?”

My heart fluttered at his response, as it always did when he spoke to me.