The Hating Game

by Sally Thorne

To me, the fact she gave up her dream job for a man is a tragedy, no matter how wonderful my dad is, or the fact that I’m sitting here now as a result.

The art of holding hands is underrated and it’s embarrassing how much this simple act has me nearly breathless.

I press my face against his neck and breathe in, again and again until the elevator bings, and we’re on the fourth floor. I try to muster up the strength to let him go, but the addictive press of our bodies together is stronger than my willpower.

Literally me every time I get to Alan’s lol