Make Me Hate You

by Kandi Steiner

And then, he tilted my chin, and lowered his own, and he kissed me. My chest tightened in a completely new way — not from pain, or from abandonment, but from a yearning desire so deep and demanding that it stole my next breath and every other thought I had.

I didn’t know what it was to be wanted so desperately that each kiss felt like a fire searing every inch of skin covering my bones.

Healthy relationships were weird.