She looked at him with his right hand outstretched, his left hand resting in his jacket pocket. The tiny cardboard box rested in his palm and made his hands look bigger, which she thought were already disproportionate to his body. He smiled in a mocking way, not like he wanted to make peace or rekindle things. She didn’t trust him.
“You didn’t have to buy me that,” she answered as she turned back to organizing herself. The lecture hall was almost empty now and the next class was already filing in.
“Who says I bought it?” he snickered. She turned then to look at him with an mouth surprised open. He laughed again. The coffee eyed boy absolutely loved teasing her confused.
“You didn’t,” she answered, sounding like a question.
He just stood a little closer, offering his gift still. He knew she was curious. He knew her toughness was just a front. Today, he was wrong. She huffed out hot air through her nose; he was blocking the isle. His whole presence was just making her anger grow. She had to get away from him, get away from the memories and let all of this go. She turned around and went the long way towards the other end of the isle of lecture hall seats. He followed her, and grabbed her bag strap to stop her. She didn’t turn around and she didn’t move when her strap went tight around her chest.
“I thought we were friends,” he said, just as she did last time they spoke.
She felt her eyes getting hot as she remembered that day as well. “You’re no friend of mine.” And she walked away, he let the strap slip through his fingers, balling his hands into fists. The little box crunched up easily against his strength. She used to call him Superboy. They resembled each other. But not even Superboy could repair the mistake he had made.