[ 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 ]	“What?” I asked, turning up the corners of my mouth. “I have something to tell you, but I don’t want you to get weird.” The curiosity and intrigue took over and I asked, “What?” “I like you.” “I like you to,” I said, half-chuckling, “That’s what you wanted to tell me?” “No,” she paused, chewing the end of her pen and staring into her lap, “I like you.” I didn’t know what to say. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her feelings, but part of me was angry. She was supposed to be my friend. She knew I was straight. She knew I had a boyfriend. What was she trying to accomplish? I tried to remain calm and sensitive and responded, “Katie, I’m sorry, you know I’m straight.” “Yeah right,” she muttered under her breath. “What is that supposed to mean? You know I have a boyfriend.” For a second I felt like I was back in elementary school, when the kids would tease me about being a tomboy, trying to stick up for myself, trying to prove that I was no different. And just the other day I was defending her. “Have you had sex with your boyfriend?” “I’m not a slut,” I replied, still in denial about the scarring loss of my virginity. “It’s easy not to be when you’re not fully attracted to him huh?” She looked me in the eyes now, like a parent catching their child in a lie, like they know the truth and there is nothing you can say to make it any better. But I didn’t feel bad. I felt pissed. Who was she to confront me and question my sexuality?