'Can you stop staring at me?'
The short, blonde-haired girl who sat in front of me decided that she had had enough of me existing. Granted, I was looking at her, but not in a way that suggested anything improper. She turned around on her seat, her hair whiplashed on her face like a cat o'nine tails, which was fitting because she looked like she was about to show me some severe punishment.
'I don't unde-' She didn't let me finish my word.
Crash.
My belongings were splattered along the floor like a bucket of paint.
It wasn't very nice, but I wasn't exactly completely guilt-free.
A few moments prior, I stumbled and accidentally bumped into her. Turns out it was a very bad time to bump into her because she was trying to sort something from a little pocket she was holding—what resulted was a few sealed condoms dropping out of her hand straight onto the ground.
Her scathing glare towards me didn't seem to dissipate.
