As Jake and I entered the Mechanical Technology class, Jake closed the door behind us and turned the lock. My heart raced. I knew something was coming, but I wasn't sure what.
"Anthony, sit down," he demanded, his voice softer than usual.
Reluctantly, I sat at one of the workbenches, keeping my guard up. Jake's behavior was unpredictable, and I wasn't sure what to expect.
"I'm sorry for punching you," he began, avoiding eye contact. "It wasn't intended."
I felt a surge of anger and pain at his words. How many times had I heard this before? I stood up, my frustration boiling over. "You always say this, Jake. You always punch me at every available misunderstanding. If we were to continue dating, is this how you were going to be treating me? You even made your friends join in an
