Click here to Download The Hating Game PDF Book by Sally Thorne English having PDF Size 1.6 MB and No of Pages 295.
I have a theory. Hating someone feels disturbingly similar to being in love with them. I’ve had a lot of time to compare love and hate, and these are my observations. Love and hate are visceral. Your stomach twists at the thought of that person. The heart in your chest beats heavy and bright, nearly visible through your flesh and clothes. Your appetite and sleep are shredded.
The Hating Game PDF Book by Sally Thorne
|Name of Book||The Hating Game|
|PDF Size||1.6 MB|
|No of Pages||295|
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About Book – The Hating Game PDF Book
Every interaction spikes your blood with a dangerous kind of adrenaline, and you’re on the brink of fight or flight. Your body is barely under your control. You’re consumed, and it scares you. Both love and hate are mirror versions of the same game—and you have to win. Why? Your heart and your ego. Trust me, I should know. It’s early Friday afternoon.
I’m imprisoned at my desk for another few hours. I wish I was in solitary confinement, but unfortunately I have a cellmate. Each tick of his watch feels like another tally mark, chipped onto the cell wall. We’re engaged in one of our childish games, which requires no words. Like everything we do, it’s dreadfully immature. The first thing to know about me: My name is Lucy Hutton.
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I’m the executive assistant to Helene Pascal, the co-CEO of Bexley & Gamin. Once upon a time, our little Gamin Publishing was on the brink of collapse. The reality of the economy meant people had no money for their mortgage repayments and literature was a luxury. Bookstores were closing all over the city like candles being blown out.
We braced ourselves for almost certain closure. At the eleventh hour, a deal was struck with another struggling publishing house. Gamin Publishing was forced into an arranged marriage with the crumbling evil empire known as Bexley Books, ruled by the unbearable Mr. Bexley himself. Each company stubbornly believing it was saving the other, they both packed up and moved into their new marital home.
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Neither party was remotely happy about it. The Bexleys remembered their old lunchroom foosball table with sepia-tinted nostalgia. They couldn’t believe the airyfairy Gamins had survived even this long, with their lax adherence to key performance indicator targets and dreamy insistence on Literature as Art.
The Bexleys believed numbers were more important than words. Books were units. Sell the units. High-five the team. Repeat. The Gamins shuddered in horror watching their boisterous new stepbrothers practically tearing the pages out of their Brontës and Austens. How had Bexley managed to amass so many like-minded stuffed shirts, far more suited to accountancy or law?
Gamins resented the notion of books as units. Books were, and always would be, something a little magic and something to respect. One year on, you can still tell at a glance which company someone came from by his or her physical appearance. The Bexleys are hard geometrics, the Gamins are soft scribbles. The Hating Game PDF Book
Bexleys move in shark packs, talking figures and constantly hogging the conference rooms for their ominous Planning Sessions. Plotting sessions, more like. Gamins huddle in their cubicles, gentle doves in clock towers, poring over manuscripts, searching for the next literary sensation. The air surrounding them is perfumed with jasmine tea and paper.
Shakespeare is their pinup boy. The move to a new building was a little traumatizing, especially for the Gamins. Take a map of this city. Make a straight line between each of the old company buildings, mark a red dot exactly halfway between them and here we are. The new Bexley & Gamin is a cheap gray cement toad squatting on a major traffic route, impossible to merge onto in the afternoon.
It’s arctic in the morning shadows and sweaty by the afternoon. The building has one redeeming feature: Some basement parking—usually snagged by the early risers, or should I say, the Bexleys. I don’t get quick results with the Spying Game and by the time Joshua is dressed in dove gray I’m at my wit’s end. He has sensed my heightened interest in his activities and has become even more furtive and suspicious. The Hating Game PDF Book
I’ll have to coax him out. I’m never going to see the pencil in motion if all he does is half frown at his computer. I start a game I call You’re Just So. It goes like this. “You’re Just So . . . Ahh, never mind.” I sigh. He takes the bait. “Handsome. Intelligent. No, wait. Superior to everyone. You’re coming to your senses, Lucinda.”
Joshua locks his computer and opens his planner, one hand hovering over the cup with the pens and pencils. I hold my breath. He frowns and slaps the planner shut. The gray shirt should make him look like a cyborg, but he ends up looking handsome and intelligent. He is the worst. “You’re Just So predictable.” Somehow I know this will cut him deep. His eyes become slits of hatred.
“Oh, am I? How so?” You’re Just So basically gives both players free rein to tell the opponent how much they hate each other. “Shirts. Moods. Patterns. People like you can’t succeed. If you ever acted out of character and surprised me, I’d die of shock.” “Am I to take this as a personal challenge?” He looks at his desk, apparently deep in thought. The Hating Game PDF Book
“I’d like to see if you attempt it. You’re Just So inflexible.” “And You’re Just So flexible?” “Very.” I fell right into that one, and it’s true. I could get my foot up to my face right now. I recover by raising an eyebrow and looking up at the ceiling with a smirk. By the time I lock eyes with him again, my mouth is a neutral little rosebud, mirrored off a hundred glittering surfaces.
He drops his eyes slowly down to the floor, and I cross my ankles, belatedly remembering I kicked off my shoes earlier. It’s hard to be a good nemesis when your bright red toenails are showing. “If I did something out of character, you’d die of shock?” I can see my face mirrored on the paneling near his shoulder. I look like a black-eyed, wild-maned version of myself.
My dark hair falls around my shoulders in jagged flames. “Might be worth my while then.” Monday to Friday, he turns me into a scary-looking woman. I look like a gypsy fortune-teller screaming about your imminent death. A crazed lunatic in an asylum, seconds from clawing her own eyes out. “Well, well. Lucinda Hutton. One flexible little gal.” The Hating Game PDF Book
He is reclining in his chair again. Both feet are flat on the floor and they point at me like revolvers in a Wild West shootout. “HR,” I clip at him. I’m losing this game and he knows it. Calling HR is virtually like tapping out. He picks up the pencil and presses the sharpened tip against the pad of his thumb. If a human could grin without moving their face, he just did it.
“I meant, You’re Just So flexible in your approach to things. It must have been your wholesome upbringing, Shortcake. What do your parents do again? Could you remind me?” “You know exactly what they do.” I’m too busy for this nonsense. I grab a stack of old Post-its and begin to sort them. “They farm . . .” He looks at the ceiling, pretending to be wracking his brains.
“They farm . . .” He leaves it dangling in the air for an eternity. It’s agony. I try not to fill in the silence, but the word that amuses him so much comes out of my mouth like a curse. “Strawberries.” Hence the nickname Strawberry Shortcake. I indulge myself in molar grinding. My dentist will never know. “Sky Diamond Strawberries. The Hating Game PDF Book Download
Cute. Look, I’ve got the blog bookmarked.” He does two double-clicks with his mouse and swivels his computer screen to face me. I cringe so hard I sprain something internally. How did he find this? My mom’s probably calling out to my dad right now. “Gee, thanks.” I hold my hand out and he hooks my bag onto it. He holds on to my coat and pushes the elevator button. “So I get to see your car.”
I try to break the silence. That thought is more nerve-racking than seeing Danny. It’s such an enclosed space. Have Joshua and I ever even sat next to each other before? I doubt it. “I’ve been imagining it for so long. I’ve been thinking it’s a Volkswagen beetle. A rusty white one, like Herbie.” “Guess again.” He is hugging my coat idly. His fingers twiddle the cuff.
Against his body it looks like a kid’s jacket. I feel sorry for this poor coat. I hold my hand out but he ignores me. “MINI Cooper, early 1980s. Kermit green. The seat won’t go back so your knees are on either side of the steering wheel.” “Your imagination is quite vivid. You drive a 2003 Honda Accord. Silver. Filthy messy inside. The Hating Game PDF Book Download
Chronic gearbox issues. If it were a horse, you’d shoot it.” The elevator arrives and I step in cautiously. “You’re a way better stalker than I am.” I feel a chill of fear when I see his big thumb push the B button. He looks down at me, his eyes dark and intense. He’s clearly deliberating something. Maybe he’ll murder me down there.
I’ll end up dead in a Dumpster. The investigators will see my fishnets and heavy eye makeup and assume I’m a hooker. They’ll follow all the wrong leads. Meanwhile, Joshua will be calmly bleaching all my DNA off his shoes and making himself a sandwich. “Serial killer eyes.” I wish I didn’t sound so scared. He looks over my shoulder at his reflection in the shiny wall of the elevator.
“I see what you mean. You’ve got your horny eyes on.” He spirals his finger dramatically over the elevator button panel. “Nope, these are my serial killer eyes too.” He lets out a deep breath and pushes the emergency stop button and we judder to a halt. “Please don’t kill me. There’s probably a camera.” I take a step backward in fright. The Hating Game PDF Book Download
“I doubt it.” He looms over me. He raises his hands and I start to lift my arms to shield my face like I’m in some awful schlocky drive-in horror movie. This is it. He’s going to strangle me. He’s lost his sanity. He scoops me off the floor by my waist and balances my ass on the handrail I’ve never noticed before. My arms drop to his shoulders and my dress slides to the top of my thighs.
When he glances down he lets out a rough breath which sounds like I’m strangling him. “Put me down. This isn’t funny.” My feet make little ineffectual spirals. This isn’t the first time a big kid’s thrown his weight around with me. Marcus DuShay in third grade once slung me onto the hood of the principal’s car and ran off laughing. The plight of the little humans.
There is no dignity for us in this oversize world. “Visit me up here for a sec.” “What on earth for?” I try to slide down but he spans his hands on my waist and presses me against the wall. I squeeze his shoulders until I come to the informed conclusion that his body is extravagant muscle under these Clark Kent shirts. “Holy shit.” The Hating Game PDF Book Free
His collarbone is like a crowbar under my palms. I say the only idiotic thing I can think of. “Muscles. Bones.” “Thanks.” We are both desperately out of breath. When I press my leg against him for balance, his hand wraps around my calf. When he puts one hand on my jaw and tilts my head back, I wait for the squeeze to start.
At any moment, his warm palm will snap tight and I’ll begin to die. Nose to nose. Breath against breath. One of his fingertips is behind my earlobe and I shiver when it slides. “Shortcake.” The sweet little word dissolves and I swallow. “I’m not going to kill you. You’re so dramatic.” Then he presses his mouth lightly against mine. Neither of us closes our eyes.
We stare at each other like always, closer than we’ve ever been. His irises are ringed blue-black. His eyelashes lower and he looks at me with an expression like resentment. His teeth catch my bottom lip in a faint bite, and goose bumps spread. My nipples pinch. My toes curl in my shoes. I accidentally touch him with my tongue when I check for damage, although it didn’t hurt. The Hating Game PDF Book Free
It was too soft, too careful. My brain is whirring hopelessly with explanations of what is happening, and my body begins to better its grip. When he leans in again and begins to move his mouth against mine, softly plying it open, the penny drops. Joshua. Templeman. Is. Kissing.