“I really can’t stand you.”

“Then why are you still listening to me?”

A strangled laugh escaped my throat. Only she could make me want to laugh and scream at the same time. A few months ago I might have missed the slight seriousness in her tone; although she was teasing me, a small part of her was still testing; testing to see if I had finally had enough of her. I didn’t know much now a days but I knew this because I also had the same fears. Maybe one day I would tell her how much I couldn’t stand her and she would respond with all seriousness that she couldn’t stand me either.

Before she took my pause as an answer I responded without a joke in my voice, “Because despite everything, no, because of everything, how could I possibly not listen to you?”

I turned toward her now, “Do you truly believe I wouldn’t be here if I hated listening to you?”

Without giving her a chance to respond I leaned forward and brushed her hair behind her ear, “That is precisely why I can’t stand you, for who else could discompose me so? You drive me absolutely crazy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”