Chapter 22 - Do You Know Just How I Feel?

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"So you.... have a boyfriend?"

I bit into my sandwich and found Dominique looming in front of me. I sighed. Too many kids have been asking me that since Monday. And then they ridicule me. I don't get what the big deal is.

"Um yeah," I swallowed down the peanut butter.

She let it sink in and nodded, "Does that mean you're, like, gay?"

"Yeah? What's it to you?"

"Oh sh*t!" the incredulous Deaky snickered as he observed our conversation.

"Nothing.." she shrugged, but yet she did not move, "It's just, don't you remember that time we slept together? You didn't seem gay then..."

I rolled my eyes, "We snogged months ago, Dom. It was one time. I don't see your point."

The fury scorned inside her eyes, "How could you, Roger?! I thought you loved me! How could you just have a f*cking boyfriend?!"

Well, that was loud. I blinked, embarrassed. Sighing, I calmly replied, "I never said I loved you, Dom. It was a one time thing. I didn't think you were going to take it so seriously-"

"Uh, but I did!"

"Too f*cking bad. Never knew you were so smitten for me," I smirked. Her defiance only grew.

"I bet you don't even have a boyfriend. You're just saying that because you're jealous we're not dating!"

The students in the cafeteria stopped eating and listened to our argument. Well that's just bloody fantastic, isn't it!

"Prove it, Roger. Prove you're one of those wankers!" a kid from another table called out.

I spit out my water hearing his insult, "Excuse me?"

"Aw, is little baby gonna cry to his mommy about it? Oh wait! You don't have one!" he mocked. A stab in the heart, I tell you. He cynical teasing continued, "I bet your 'boyfriend' despises your orphaned ass. You really think you're worth anything?"

"Don't listen to him, Rog," Freddie piped up, trying to divert my attention away.

I ignored Fred, "Shut your spoiled, homophobic gobbler, could ya?"

"Make me!"

"I'll f*cking make you alright, you ass!" I charged towards him.

"At least I don't eat ass!"

I tackled him onto the floor. I threw punches into his disgusting face. He squirmed under me. He punched my nose, causing a bit of blood to drip onto his shirt. I scowled, but I stood my ground.

It was only until a supervisor pulled us apart when I noticed the cluster of kids towering over us. Some were recording, while others were muttering to their friends.

"Taylor! Office. Now."

I stumbled back. As I turned around, my whole demeanor changed as I saw the stern principal's face. Dammit.

I wiped my nose and shot one last middle finger at the whiny kid. Mind you, he was crying. Brat can't even stand for himself once someone actually fought against him.

The nurse handed me an ice pack to put on the black eye forming. I cleaned the final bit of blood dripping down nose.

"Sit down," the principal sternly said.

"Mr. Foster," I began. He glared at me, "I won't say much, but he started it."

"Really? You're 19 years old, Roger, and you're still using that excuse. When will you mature to realize that not everything is a wrestling match?"

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