Your World Cup, Not Mine Anymore
"Let's not break up, okay?"
He stepped forward again, trying once more to hold me.
In the past, whenever we fought and he realized I was truly angry, he would use this move, pulling me into his arms and coaxing me with a few words.
I used to relent in his embrace, to compromise.
But now, let alone his touch, even his proximity made nausea churn in my stomach.
This time I stepped back:
"Gavin! I'm not playing games with you anymore!"
"Twelve years. I'm sick of this entanglement!"