This is why I hate you so much:

I like the way you make me feel. When we laughed at our friend’s perverted jokes and when you jokily asked me if I wanted to lick your cheek. And I did and we blushed together right on cue. And we sat on the concrete floor and you put your hand around my neck and gently brushed it up to play with my hair. It tickled and I started giggling. I pushed away from you and you smiled and pulled me back. Then you wrapped your arms around me and put your face on my shoulders. Breathed into my shirt while our fingers played softly with each other. And I gave up and layed my face onto your chest; listening to your heartbeat. And slowly, I would raise my head to face your face and my lips would kiss your cheek but we wouldn’t kiss. We couldn’t but how I wanted to kiss you. And then I realized what we were doing. I whispered to you, “You’re going to hurt me.” You replied you woudn’t. I pulled away from you and assured you, you will. And we both knew you would hurt me. And you said to me, “I’m sorry. I wish things played out differently for us.”