I remember feeling tiny, yet somehow protected in some way. Now that I look back on it, I realize how strange of a way that is to fall for someone. Oh well. Too late now.
He’s coming towards me. God, just kill me now. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. He’s so close now, calling my bluff with every step he takes. Go away. Don’t come over here. He doesn’t hear my mental thoughts. He doesn’t even talk to me. He just sneers. This is how we say hello. Of course I sneer right back at him, add a stuck-out tongue for good measure. Even though my face tells him I hate him, his eyes are soft and I fight a smile. Don’t let it show, though. That would ruin the point of the game.
The point of the game is to not let the other person know that you’re actually crazy about them. At least, that’s my objective. He wins if he finds out, I win if I don’t let him. The rules are simple: there are none. Any method of loathing is acceptable, give or take the occasional smile or compliment. Emphasis on the word occasional.