Hate isn't the right word for it, neither is loathe or dislike even more then unwanted fat in the summer, nope, bile would be just right, the smell of it still lingering even after months.
That's what Tim Riggins is a stinking pile of bile and just thinking of him makes me want to upchuck even more.
But in the distant (so distant you could call it ancient) distant past he was the one.
I know here you are hearing all this from the lest romantic girl at Dillon High but sadly back then the jerk that will be forever be know as Tim Riggins was my one and only, but did he fell the same?
Not so much.
For the first three weeks after it ended (with a slap, that I must say was one of my best) every time I closed my eyes I would see him and little Lyla Garrity waving her pom-poms in victory.
Now all the swims across my eye lids as I sleep is the millions of ways Tim Riggins could die a slow, slow death and the face that seems to out shine all the rest, Landry Clark.
Do I still love him? The greasy haired, beer drinking (one day to his death) ass?
No so much.