His Challenge (the match #1)

Chapter one.

LUNA

Andrew: I'm sorry Luna, I really am baby. I didn't mean what I said. Please answer my calls, princess?

Andrew: Baby girl, don't be like this. Don't ignore me, we've been through so much. Don't leave me like this, please?

Andrew: Luna, can you just relax and think for a second. We've been through so much, we can fix this. I said I was sorry, please talk to me?

My heart feels like it's beating too hard, my face feels hot and my hands are sweaty. How is it possible to treat someone like this? How can he tell me to 'relax'? Are guys really this foolish or is it just Andrew? Right now, I'm beyond furious, and I don't even know how to function correctly. He'd hurt me, he made me suffer like only he could. He hurt me like I wasn't a mess already, like I wasn't feeling pain. This is how it goes, he says something hurtful, he breaks my heart again, he says he is sorry and I accept the apology, and I somehow get back with him. Not anymore, no more accepting, no more useless pain. The pain if the most exhausting problem in our relationship. The testing, the games and the pain. Our relationship isn't, or better said it wasn't, healthy. Our relationship was excruciating noxious, utterly arduous. Our relationship was worse than toxic. I'm tired of him walking all over me like I'm nothing and no one.

Don't get me wrong, Andrew's a handsome guy, and the boy knows it. Andrew's a soccer player and soccer is something we both love, him playing it and me watching. We actually met through soccer, and it will always be our moment. I noticed him on the field, and he was- well still is really good at playing games, I wasn't just talking about soccer. I cheered on his number throughout the whole game and when the game was over and our team won, he walked over to me, and we talked a little. It certainly wasn't love at first sight or anything like that, but he was a good looking guy. I wasn't too ahead of myself. He invited me to an after party his friends were throwing and one thing led to another that night. It's not the way I planned that night with him, but I surely wasn't complaining. I did change, I wasn't like that, I didn't really do one night stands, but it turned out to be so much more than just a one night stand. The sex was good. We didn't plan on having a second time or a third, but it just happened. We fell for each other, hard. It shouldn't have gone this way, but it did and we couldn't help ourselves. I was so deeply in love with this boy, and it blinded me. We argue all the time, we changed. Changing scared us, but the chances made me stronger. It made me the person I'm today.

I always thought what me and Andrew had was true love, the one people talk about in the books. The beautiful kind people can't find, not me. I remember all the times I compared our story to theirs, my friend's, but it didn't help our relationship. Making love is about respect, love, caring and accepting. Making love isn't about making each other feel guilty. Love is about knowing limits, but we weren't even. Andrew made me feel loved, but he made sure I knew the unloved feeling as well. Andrew knew he was the boss in our relationship, we weren't equals, we never have been. He never offered me a kind of passion, safety and gentleness that my friends kept talking about. He's never told me he loved me during sex. He gave me pain and I know love isn't like that, love shouldn't be like that.

Andrew and I hardly talked about our obstacles, which was unhealthy. Andrew does not like to consider talking about personal issues, or the problems we have been through. We hardly talk about serious things. And now I think about it, we hardly talk at all.

Andrew knew so much about my personal life and the problematic issues I've been through. Andrew knew about my mother not being home, my mom working for our needs. He knew about my the prick, Dave. He knew what kind of person Dave could turn into, and in the worst case he'd tell someone.

Andrew knew my father, and he saw him suffering. Dad was sick, very sick. He had five different types of cancer, and I knew he couldn't survive it, no one could. My father passed away when I was twelve years old, and I never had enough time to heal with the loss of him not being here anymore. There wasn't and still isn't enough time for me to process this. My savior passed away, and I only had three weeks to say everything I had to say. Three weeks will never be enough, not for a child, not for an adult, not for anyone. Three weeks weren't enough.