The Hating Game
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“4 eva,” he replies.
“You cracked my password?”
He rolls me onto my back and smiles down at me with eyes bright with mischief.
There’s nothing else I can do. When the white flag of his sheets settles on my skin, the Hating Game is over. It’s primal. It’s a miracle. And it’s forever.
“Yeah, all right. Forever. What game should we play now?” I look up at him and we play the Staring Game until his eyes spark in memory.
“The Or Something Game really intrigued me. Can you show me how it works?”
He tosses the blankets over us, blocking out the entire world. He’s laughing, my favorite sound in the world.
Then there’s nothing but silence. His mouth touches my skin.
Let the real games begin.