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Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story, really. The characters aren't mine. We all know that. The movies Legends of the Fall and 10 Things I Hate About You aren't either. So hopefully the respective owners won't sue or anything. I just borrowed some of the words.


Ten Things: Not Even Close
by Nicky





I hate Jarod. I mean, I really, really hate him. But I can't for the life of me figure out why. There has to be reasons, right? Things that he does to trigger this reaction in me.

I guess I could start with those phone calls. All I want to know is this - why me? And why the middle of the night? They always come when I finally manage to fight off the nightmares long enough and drift into a dreamless stupor. But, I must admit, he never calls without a reason. That reason may seem stupid at first. Or just as a way to annoy me. But deep down, after all's been said and done, I can see that there's a method to his madness.

Which leads me to number two. Another reason why I hate Jarod. It's that 'after all's been said and done' that gets me. The little tidbits of information he feeds me during those phone calls are just to tease me. So many times I want to just say "Bite me, Jarod" and hang up the phone. That's the rational side of me talking during those times. I really should pay more attention to that side when in a semi-conscious state. Because after that rational side makes it's argument, there's this other side that starts to talk. Something inside me, some quiet voice I can barely hear most times except when I'm half awake. It'll convince me to listen to him and see where he's leading me. Unfortunately, I end up listening to that voice. And then I always regret that decision. Because at the end of whatever little scavenger hunt Jarod sends me on, I find myself in a worse position than when I started. The best word to describe that condition would be confused.
Jarod's idea of helping me discover my past entails him dangling a carrot in front of me and, like the good little horsie, I chomp at the bit. He then proceeds to lead me on a journey of discovery. A mission who's sole purpose is to shatter my very being. It destroys a little part of me, revealing lies that I built my life on. Each odyssey he sends me on breaks down more and more of the foundation of my life. And once that's gone, where does it leave me? Who am I when it's all said and done? Someone Jarod has twisted around so much that I don't know up from down anymore. Someone I don't like very much. So how can I be expected to like him? How can I not hate the person who's opened my eyes to who I really am, making me hate the person I see?

It's been three months since we last heard from him. And no matter where I look, I can't seem to find him. No clues. No phone calls. No games. But on the other hand, no early morning wake ups. No Jarod induced soul searches. No more of my life crumbling before my eyes. Basically, no reasons for me to hate him. I guess the trade off is worth it. Or at least that's what I'm trying to convince myself so that I won't wonder if he's okay. I refuse to worry about him. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself. Can't he? We really have no way of knowing where he is if he doesn't call and leave us some hint. I only came on this trip to keep up appearances. You know, to make the boys in the tower think we're hot on Jarod's trail.

Sighing heavily, I sink into the giant bed in my spacious suite and grab the remote control from the night stand. Another complaint to add to my list of things I hate about Jarod. All the seedy motels and roach traps he has lured me to. These days, I stay in style, refusing to be taken in by his childish pranks anymore. That is, if he ever tried to pull any anymore. Don't get me wrong. Don't think I actually miss his idiotic antics. Well, I don't miss them all. Some of them were kind of funny, I admit. The ones that remind me of when we were kids.

No use thinking of back then, I think with a sigh before turning my attention to the TV as I flip through the stations. Nothing's really on, but I keep flipping. Finally on the fourth cycle through the stations I stop on HBO. The channel directory says that Legends of the Fall is coming up next. For some reason I really love that movie. I think it probably goes back to one of my childhood fantasies. It's a movie about everything I used to dream of having. A home. Family. Love. And not just any love. A deeply spiritual, all consuming kind of love like Julia Ormond's character had for Brad Pitt's character. I would pretend I was living a happy life on a farm way out in the middle of nowhere. Far away from the reaches of the Centre. During the day, I'd help take care of the animals and stuff. And at night, Jarod would help me take care of the kids. That's right. Don't be so shocked. I said Jarod. He used to be in my dreams once upon a time. But once upon a time is right. It was so long ago. Kind of like a whole other fairy tale life. A life where I could be completely miserable and completely happy at the same time. Miserable because I was stuck at the Centre with a neglectful father. But it was bliss because Jarod was there. Well, I'm still at the Centre. And I'm still miserable. But with no dark haired, chocolate eyed boy, there's no happiness. Another sigh escapes me. Too much deep contemplation on times past, I guess.

I'm waiting now on this movie to go off before my movie comes on. I think it's almost over, though, so I shouldn't have long to wait. It's something called 10 Things I Hate About You. With a title like that, how bad could it be? Two minutes into viewing it, I have my answer. This movie's about a bunch of kids. Great, I groan. One kid isn't so bad looking, though. That long haired, bad boy. In fact, he's kind of cute. Young, but cute. I'm sure I could be his mother, though. I groan again, sinking even lower in the bed at that thought. Nevertheless, I focus on the baby stud. He's looking about as miserable as I feel right about now. It probably has something to do with that girl reading the poem about the different ways she hates him. I should probably take notes, I think with a smile. It would certainly give Jarod an earful the next time he called. If he ever calls again. I'm able to trap the sigh waiting at the edge of my lips this time.

"I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair," the girl on the movie starts.

Okay, so I probably don't need to add those to my list. Jarod actually has a nice, soothing voice. If I wasn't so angry at him for waking me up, I could listen to it all day. It's deep and teasing with a sexy kind of tremble to it.
"I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare."

I really hope she doesn't get an A on this homework assignment, because this is getting lame. But, I must admit. It does rhyme. Maybe that's all that matters in a fictitional high school english class.

"I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie."

Now we're getting to some valid points. Not that Jarod's always right. But he is sometimes. Okay, most of the times he is. And I really hate that. But I'd never give him the satisfaction of letting him know.

"I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry." The girl on the movie pauses as her tears start to overwhelm her.

This time I can't stop the sigh. Tears are no stranger to me. No matter what I do, no matter how strong I try to be, Jarod knows which emotional strings to pull. He knows where I'm vulnerable. Where I'm weak. That is definitely something I hate about him. Suddenly this poem isn't so stupid anymore.

"I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call.
But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all." The girl on the movie finishes and runs off in tears.

My own tears are freely flowing down my face now. And I'm powerless to stop them. The words sink in and I finally realize so many things I never understood before. I'm so into the movie at this point that I don't hear the phone ringing. The incessant chirping finally reaches my ear and I have to scramble over to the desk to retrieve my cell phone.

"What," I say softly, all of the usual venom gone from my voice.

"Miss me?" a voice on the other end says with a grin in his voice that I could practically see.

"Jarod," I say simply. "It's been a long time."

"Yeah," he sighs. "What have you been doing to keep yourself busy, Miss Parker?"

"Trying to figure out what it is that I hate about you," I tell him and hear a slight gasp. I've never vocalized any kinds of feelings for him before. I think he was surprised to hear 'hate' among them.

"You really . . . hate . . . me?" His voice catches on the word 'hate' and he sounded hurt and unsure of himself. "Why? Now that you've had plenty of time to think about it, have you found the answer?"

'Can't you see it, Jarod? I don't hate you! That's the problem!' I want to scream. But I can't seem to make my mouth say the words that my heart was feeling. I couldn't tell him how miserable I was without him. That what I really hated was that he wasn't with me like when we were kids. And that I hate it that he hasn't called me in three months. But what I really couldn't tell him was that what I really, really hated was that, no matter what, I couldn't make myself hate him. I hated that what I felt for Jarod was anything BUT hate. Far from it, in fact.

So how do I answer his question? How do I answer mine? Do I hate him? Do I hate Jarod?

"Not even close, Jarod," I whisper, answering both my and his question. Not even a little bit. Not even at all. So where does that leave me? Where does it leave us?









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