Her eyes were like a storm, a deep blue-grey and swirling with fury. "I hate this!" she screeched, never once looking at me, "You make me feel all these things and I – I can't stand it!"
She kept her eyes on the floor. I kept mine on her. "What things?" I asked, stepping forward slowly, "What do I make you feel?" I was beginning to close in on her, and she stumbled away. "Tell me, Clare."
I might have imagined it, but I swear I saw her eyes shoot upward just once to meet my gaze. But she once again stared at her feet to stutter, "You – you make me feel... fear. Exhaustion. Anxiety, hatred, and – and-"
I ignored the pain that tugged at my heart at her 'hatred' and moved closer, giving her my signature – and irresistible – smirk. "And what, Clare? Tell me." I thought I had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to say, and if I was right – God, if I was right...
She backed up farther, but only succeeded in hitting a wall. A single tear trailed down her cheek. "Love!" she shouted, reaching to her left to grab the doorknob. "I still fucking love you, Eli! And I hate it."
The smirk still played on my lips long after she left the room and, though I didn't know it then, that single tear was soon joined by a waterfall.