The Hating Game

by Sally Thorne

Joshua scowls darkly and picks at his thumbnail. “Get out before I throw you out.”

OHHHHH SHIT

“My car is that way.” I start to squirm and point. “My apartment is that way,”

“So you came over to grill me on my life choices?” I catch his fingertips and hold his hand between mine. “I didn’t want to be anywhere else tonight. I was crawling out of my skin.” I’m proud I had the courage to say it. He turns back to me and the expression in his eyes is softer. “My leg was jiggling like this.” I demonstrate and he grins. “You should have seen me driving here. I was laughing like I’d broken out of prison. I was completely deranged.” “Do you think you’ve finally cracked your sanity?” “For sure. The weird need to stare at your pretty face completely overwhelmed me. I had the energy of twenty atom bombs.” “Why do you think I go to the gym so much?” A big bubble of happiness fills me. I struggle upright and lean against him, my head falling easily into the perfect cradle of his neck. It’s true; he fits me everywhere. “You never have to explain your choices. Not to me, not to anyone.”

When she left, she paused by my desk, and looked at me, and laughed. It was the kind of laugh tinged by hysteria, like she’s just heard the funniest thing. “Good luck,” she tells me. “You’re going to need it. This is beyond HR.”

“I’ve never had someone try to do this before.” “What, break your skull open? I’ll use a hammer if I have to.” “Get to know me. And I never thought it would be you.” “Do you want me to stop?” I almost can’t hear his reply, it’s so quiet. “No.”

He looks at me with an expression that makes my heart shake. Like he’s reminding himself I’m actually here. Like I’m not just in his head.