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    Hating You
    Hating You
    Hating You
    Ebook121 pages1 hour

    Hating You

    By West Greene

    4/5

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    • Friendship

    • High School

    • Self-Discovery

    • Romance

    • Love

    • Friends to Lovers

    • Enemies to Lovers

    • Hurt/comfort

    • Secret Relationship

    • Forbidden Love

    • Found Family

    • Outcast Protagonist

    • Gay for You

    • Bully Romance

    About this ebook

    New school. New Hell. New bully.

    Samuel has barely been at school a day when the resident bad boy makes it known how much he hates Samuel.

    He’s determined to make Samuel’s life hell.

    But what he doesn’t know about Samuel is that he gives as good as he gets. And Hunter Reil might have finally met his match. Because Samuel’s not going down easy.

    If there's one thing Samuel's good at, it's fighting. And he'll fight back until he literally can't fight anymore.

    **Please read the trigger warnings located at the front of the book before reading!
    ***Previously published as a duet: Hunter’s Target and Samuel’s Darkness. The two books have been combined into this one.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTiff Thomas
    Release dateNov 16, 2022
    ISBN9781005574369
    Hating You
    Read preview
    Author

    West Greene

    West Greene is a romance author that specializes in short, steamy books and serials.She loves to write about billionaires, bad boys, CEOs, forbidden relationships, and other romance tropes that are sure to keep her readers hooked.She can currently be found on Facebook and Instagram.

    Read more from West Greene

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    Reviews for Hating You

    4/5

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    • 1/5

      Jan 7, 2025

      Way too fast paced. It was literally bam, bam, bam, bam. Moved to new town, makes a best friend, becomes the target of bullies, and goes to jail. What friend you barely know whose family comes to bail you out of jail and take you in? Also, there was no spark or chemistry. It was instant lust and love.

    Book preview

    Hating You - West Greene

    PART I

    HUNTER’S TARGET

    1

    Samuel

    If there was one thing in this world that I hated more than my family, it was change.

    I couldn’t stand change.

    So, imagine how fucking ecstatic I was to be starting a new fucking school during my senior year. I’d lived in the same neighborhood and the same city all my life. But Mom got a better job offer here in a smaller city, and of course, my entire family packed up and moved here. Dad could work anywhere—woop-dee-fucking-doo—so when to move wasn’t even up for question.

    Of course, my older brother was asked if he was okay with moving, but not me.

    No one gave a fuck about me, and honestly, I no longer gave a fuck about them either.

    Life had been fucking great five years ago. It had been fucking fantastic until I realized I wasn’t attracted to girls. When I’d come out to my family, thinking they would support me, the exact opposite had happened.

    They’d shunned me. And my shithole of an older brother spread it around school, placing me as an outcast.

    I was used to all of that, so to be starting a new fucking school during my senior year . . . well, it had my goddamn skin crawling. I was used to the bullies back at Brentwood. I could deal with them.

    The people here? I didn’t know them. I couldn’t prepare myself for their attacks. And believe me, I wasn’t stupid. I knew there would be attacks. You weren’t the ‘queer’ kid without someone talking shit about you.

    Wish I could be there to see your first day go to shit, my brother remarked as I came down the stairs. I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to respond. I just grabbed my boots out of the closet behind the front door. After yanking them on my feet, I knelt to lace them up.

    Brad, my older brother of two years, was a high school graduate—barely. He refused to do anything with his life, and Mom and Dad seemed all too willing to take care of him. He didn’t even have a job before we moved, and I knew that wasn’t going to change now. All he did was party, get high, and drink. I was pretty fucking sure he hadn’t even been to bed yet.

    It was the only reason he’d be up at seven-fifteen A.M.

    I shouldered my bag and walked out of the house, shutting the door behind me, making sure I was quiet as I did so. My parents would never get angry at Brad, but they sure as fuck would get pissed with me if I shut the door too loudly and woke them up before they were ready to be up.

    I made it to school fifteen minutes before the bell was scheduled to ring for first period. When I pushed open the door to the front office, the smell of cinnamon and apples hit me straight in the nose, making me feel sick to my stomach. I hated strong smells, even ones that smelled good. I was more than ready to get the fuck back out in the hallway where I could damn breathe.

    I’m Samuel Radcliffe. I’m here to pick up my schedule and get my locker information.

    The receptionist looked up at me. She was an older lady, probably in her fifties or sixties. Her hair was dyed blonde, and it looked so dry that I was scared it was going to disintegrate into dust when she tucked it behind her ear.

    I’m sorry, hun. Can you repeat that?

    I gritted my teeth before forcing myself to relax, repeating what I’d just said to her. She fished through some papers on her desk. Ah-ha! she exclaimed, pulling out a folder. She was way too happy for this early in the fucking morning. Here you go, hun. Since it’s the first day of school, you’ll go to homeroom instead of your first-period class, she explained. Your homeroom teacher will direct you on how the rest of your day will proceed. Oh! And your books are located in your locker.

    I nodded once. Thanks, I rumbled.

    I quickly escaped from the office and dragged fresh air into my lungs. After I glanced down at the map and the locker number on another piece of paper, I headed in that direction. I felt some eyes on me as I walked through the hallways as more and more students filtered in, and even more when I got to my locker, but I ignored them. I was pretty damn good at doing that.

    I grabbed the books I needed for my classes before lunch and shoved them into my bag before quickly making my way to homeroom, which, for some fucked up reason, was across the goddamn school.

    Who the fuck made the schedules around this fucking place?

    After finding homeroom, I took a seat in the back corner. I had a need to always have myself in a corner—not to back myself into it, but to better protect myself. After years of bullying both at home and at school, I needed something at my back and one of my sides to better protect myself.

    Yo, anyone sitting here?

    I looked up at the guy in front of me. He was wearing a pair of light wash jeans and Nike slides with black socks. A loose band tee covered his torso, and his blonde hair was cut short on the sides, leaving the top longer.

    I shook my head at him. Nah. Seat’s free.

    Cool. He dropped into the chair. Haven’t seen you before. I’m Noah. You?

    Samuel. I’m new. Just moved here a couple of weeks ago. I watched as more students filtered in, everyone giving me curious looks, but none curious enough to come find out who I was.

    Cool shit. Not really. Let me see your schedule. I silently dug it out of my pocket and passed it to him. Well, shit, he muttered. We don’t have any classes together. But we’ve got lunch.

    I looked over at him. Was this guy seriously trying to be my fucking friend?

    I’m gay, I told him bluntly, wanting to go ahead and get this shit out the way so I wouldn’t have to deal with losing a friend later down the road.

    He shrugged. Okay, and? I like pussy. Big fucking deal.

    A smirk curved my lips. That was a hell of a lot better reception than I’d received from my ex-best-friend. When I’d told him I was gay, he had acted as if I was a fucking alien or some shit and never spoke to me again. It hurt at first, but then, I realized I didn’t need shit like that in my life, and I moved the hell on.

    That was all I could do these days. Just move the hell on when shit didn’t go right.

    And it rarely ever did, so I got pretty fucking good at it.

    Just go ahead and call me the king of moving the fuck on.

    The teacher walked in at that moment, her heels clicking across the floor. Noah handed me back my schedule, and I folded it back up, putting it in my pocket, getting ready to hear what kind of shit show I’d been thrown in.

    2

    Samuel

    By lunch, wild rumors were circulating, and they weren’t about me. Apparently, some guy was coming back to school that was rumored to be a fucking asshole, though the girls

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