Hit-And-Run
She glanced over the entire room; found nothing that resembles white hair and blue eyes.
Elsa scowled, not understanding herself to why as she was searching for him in a crowded room, the oddest part was why were she scanning the room, knowing full well he wasn't there?
She hates him.
Ever since she met Jack, he made her felt things she shouldn't feel. Think over his smile—even his infuriating grin, and, oh god, his smirk! a tingle shot up through her neck down to her stomach.
Killer bees, she thought. Elsa knows she can't possibly be having feelings for him. Hatred, yes that must be so. She automatically imagined his lopsided smirk when he would, oftentimes, infuriate her.
Elsa scowled again, harder this time that two harsh lines on her forehead appeared; meeting him was a mistake. An accident on the highway; a catastrophe waiting to happen; a match that is lighted; a crash and burned fiasco; and one particular emotion shouldn't have been born.
Elsa loves him
