Ariadne
Arthur hated Ariadne.
He hated the way her eyes would widen every time she stepped into a dream world. He hated how they were so bright and full of wonder. He hated how they sparkled in the sunlight and always, no matter what situation they were in, shone with laughter. He hated how they were the perfect shade of brown, and how she seemed to be able to look into his very soul with just one quick glance.
Her scent disgusted him. The smell of honeysuckle, vanilla, and rainwater followed her everywhere she went. He hated how fucking hot it got in the warehouse because she would always, always, ALWAYS stand directly in front of the large metal fan located in the far end of the room, the heavy blades whipping her aroma around the entire building. He hated how close she worked next to him, her desk angled perfectly so that, with every turn of her head, a wave of fragrance washed over him like a hurricane.
The sound of her voice annoyed him to no end. The way her tone was smooth and quiet, her French accent leaking in with every other sentence- he hated it. The way she would laugh, her voice sounding like a million tiny bells, and then sigh in contentment- he hated it. The way she sometimes drew out her vowel sounds when she didn't know what to say next- he hated it. He hated it, hated it, hated it.
She tasted of peaches- he hated peaches.
Actually, he loved peaches, but not anymore. He hated how she often whipped out a tube of peach-flavored lip gloss during work, how she constantly reapplied it to her already-shiny lips. He hated how her lip gloss had stuck to his mouth after their kiss. He hated how he had licked his lips clean afterwards because he couldn't get enough of the taste.
Her skin was too flawless for her own good. It was so clear, not a single bruise or scar of freckle- Arthur sometimes wanted to whip out a Sharpie and doodle all over her, just to see that perfect canvas of white flesh get ruined. He hated how soft her hand had felt in his as he pulled her through the hotel lobby, how it felt like she was going to slip out of his grasp like butter. He hated how she had patted his shoulder lightly, causing his heart to skip at least two beats.
Yes, Arthur hated Ariadne.
But he was in love with her.
And that's what he hated the most.
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