You Are Mine
"Mine," The blonde-haired boy snarled, his hands clutching the edge of the cafeteria table, eyes as black as charcoal.
I arched an eyebrow, reluctantly distancing myself from the scrumptious-looking chocolate fudge cake. "Whoa, look, man," I said defensively, raising my hands, "I know this choccie delight is yours. No need to go all ape on me."
"Mine!" He roared, catching the attention of everyone in the lunchroom, including the people at our table, who were looking at him, mouths agape.
"Well, jeez," I breathed, "It's just a goddamn piece of cake. Here, take it back." Before I could, however, the boy lurched forward, grabbing my face in his strong hands and crushing my lips to his.