“You’re a bastard!” she screamed. Her hand whistled through the air, nearly puncturing my cheek. She burst into tears and ran off, leaving me to realign my eyeballs in her absence.
Steven emerged from behind the door of his locker with a level of caution that vaguely reminded me of a WWII documentary I once saw. He looked at my swelling jaw.
“Let me guess: apparently she thought you two had a thing.”
I nodded, teeth clenched too hard to respond.
Steven sighed. “Isn’t that the third girl this week?”
I nodded again. That girl wore too many rings on her left hand.
“What a ladies man.”
I rounded on him.
“I’m not!” I insisted. “I’m just nice!”
“Calm down, man. I was just—”
“It’s not my fault I live in a culture that conflates kindness with flirtation! Why can’t they see the difference!”
I was now shouting.
“They make things so complicated—”
“Hey—” Steven began, but I wasn’t finished.
“—FUCK WOMEN!” I screamed.
Steven paused, then nodded. “I try to.”
I glared at him.
“I hate you.”
We left for math class.