2

“Ow! What the hell, Sam?”, Jonas exclaimed exasperated while wiping the lip from a drop of blood that trickled down from his chin (okay, maybe I bit a little harder than I had planned). He glared at me while I straightened up and crossed my arms over my chest to try to distance myself from him.

“Why, excuse me?”, I hissed back, “But you didn’t back off, what was I supposed to do? Just wait until you felt you were finished sucking on my face and groping me like I was some sort of public domain?”

He had a slight sour look on his face, very unlike his usual easy going and nice demeanour. He runs a frustrated hand through his dark locks and starts pacing around like an incapacitated tiger at a zoo. He halts and give me an accusing look.

“Yeah, well, sorry, but you looked hot tonight and I just figured, maybe you’d like to have some fun.”

“So, instead of, I don’t know, checking with me before jumping me like a rabid person, you decided it would be worth jeopardizing our friendship for some potential ‘fun’? That doesn’t really sound like you at all.” He turns his face away from me and mutters;

“Well, maybe don’t wear such a short skirt if you don’t like guys’ attention.”, like he thought I wouldn’t hear it!

It’s amazing how you sober up instantly when you’re presented to a grade A asshole. I’m normally a very well-tempered person, and I usually don’t get angry as I’m naturally calm and tend to avoid confrontation. But when I do get angry, you’d better stay away.

I could feel hot anger rising in my body, like fury. I said with an icy voice,

“Ex-cuse me? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but it’s the 21st century, I can wear whatever I want. Or do you mean to say your actions cannot be controlled due to how I choose to dress?” Jonas seems to be about to reply affirmatively, but halts when he notices the expression on my face. “Well then, Grope-Ass, sorry, I mean Jon-ass,” (yes, I’m very childish, I plead guilty to that) “but you’re in for some disturbing news, then. Since you are choosing to act like a major asshat, I will not be able to control the action of my fist punching you in the face.”, I proclaim while giving him a death-glare. I might be a useless witch, but what I lack in magical abilities, I make up for with an extraordinary enhanced physical form. I’m naturally stronger, faster, durable, agile, and fast healing than the average witch (well, I’m also more clumsy, stubborn to the point of being stupid and a sore loser, but since it makes me sound way less cool, so we’ll just ignore those facts for now). I’m not as strong as a werewolf or vampire, obviously, but certainly physically stronger than my so-called best friend. Jonas knows of this too, and yet, as I look on his face, he still seems pissed off and ready for a fight. It seems he’s about to say something, but I beat him to it.

“You know what, Jonas? Screw you.” I turn up my chin and spin around on my heels, ready to exact my revenge on him by keying his precious car instead of ripping out his heart. I don’t get far, as Jonas grabs my hand and turn me around to face him. He now looks completely placid and guilty.

“Hey! Sam...I…I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know why I said that or why I did what I did… I just got a little mad when you rejected me. I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot sometimes. Will you forgive me?” he said with a pleading voice, very different from the snide attitude just seconds ago. I search his face, looking for signs if the apology is sincere or not. I frown and squint my eyes suspiciously, trying to decipher whether or not to believe him. He is my best friend, so I want to trust him, but at the same time he said some spiteful and sexist things that makes him deserve an ass-whooping deluxe of some sort.

“Look”, he says and lets go of my arm and puts up his arms each side of his head, like he’s surrendering. “Go ahead. Just punch me real good, wherever you want. I can take it, no I deserve it, for acting like such a scumbag. You’re my best friend, Sam, but I’m obviously not yours at the moment. The only thing I can think of is to let you hurt me, like I hurt you. I don’t know what I’d do without you”. There’s a moment of silence, then he whispers “…Oh please God and Goddess, don’t let her choose to punch me in the balls…” I let out a short laugh, that little speech convinced he just made a terrible mistake tonight. He had some sucking up before I completely forgave him though, but we’re all good now. It’s kind of sad that my only romantic encounter with the opposite sex (or same sex, for that mapper) was such a fail. Well, it’s one of only two romantic encounters, if you count the almost-kiss with Him: