I decided not to cower away like I would do, or most people would do. This smacked of heroics, and not knowing the situation, and them not knowing me, I kissed her. While looking at him. I saw myself kissing her in his shades. And I liked it. Then I pulled her face away. She looked confused.
I stood up and approached the guy, who was equally confused.
"You swine," he said.
"I am a love boar. I can admit that."
Do you know how it is to be on top of the world and taking a nosedive faster than it takes a diver to make a splash?
Yeah, that splash was actually my blood. From the nose. From his clenched knuckle. From his right swing. From the hip. From his petty grunt. From his jealous brain.
I had to reconsider kissing her in the split second between his hit and me falling on the floor.
Then I smacked the wooden part of the compartment and realized that, as much as I hated these things happening to me, it made my blood boil. And I enjoyed it a lot.
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