My second chance in a strange reverse world!

It had never crossed my mind that I, of all people, would be a victim of harassment. Perhaps in some juvenile wet dream, I fantasized a couple of times that the prettiest girl in school was attracted to me, and she turned out to be a dominant girl, that she would harassing me in the middle of school and everyone would notice that I was actually quite sexy in a weird way and…

Oups, looks like I got a little carried away.

Back to the subject. it never went beyond a fantasy until now;

A girl was taking advantage of me, but I was undecided as to how to react to this development.

That whole situation where the harassment actually went from stalking to "femdom" was based on the fact that the girl harassing me was pretty, and that I was attracted to her, not that she actually was… ugly.

Which was the case with this girl.

The reason why I was hesitant about what to do was for one simple reason, and although I don't want to do it, I felt obliged to quote a phrase I found on the internet in my most edgy and depressing moments: "Morality has aesthetic criteria."

When I was desperately looking for some books to read, I came across this sentence. And sad to say, it's practically the only thing I read about philosophy outside of the required classes. But for some reason, that sentence fit a lot of what I was going through at the time, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that it shaped my somewhat negative view of the world.

For give an example;

If she was a pretty girl, —by my standards— I might have let the situation pass and just chalked it up as a flirt. But since she was extremely ugly, —again, by my standards,— I found myself weighing the pros and cons of simply denouncing her to the principal or just punching her.

For those reasons, I wasn't quite sure what to do. I was trying to form a coherent train of thought that wouldn't lead me down the path of "aesthetic criteria decide your sentence." I had been judged this way all my life; it felt wrong to start doing it myself.

However, after some thought, I realized how stupid my inner debate about this development was.

Wasn't she a pretty girl in this world? Surely, she thought she could get away with it just because of her face. It reminded me of those situations at school parties where girls would practically get groped by cute boys they barely knew, while I couldn't even look in their direction because it was considered visual harassment or something. Just thinking about those situations left me annoyed.

I was her classmate for at least three years, and she was practically being fondled in public, anyone would be curious!

But back to the present, the girl, at least had the decency to remove her hand when I noticed, but she still had an unpleasant smile on her nasty face.

I gave her a half smile, "Yes?" I asked a little more dryly than I intended.

She leaned forward. "Hey, Alex, I just wanted to say hi," Her smile faded, replaced by a blatantly fake sad grimace. "Or are we not friends anymore?"

I didn't recognize her. Perhaps the previous Alex had, but independent of that, I didn't particularly care, so I spoke, hoping to make clear my disinterest in her advances. "Please keep your hands off me."

She smiled and brought her hands to her flat chest, wincing in mock pain. "Ouch, that's cold."

"Everything okay, Alex?" Peyton spoke over my shoulder, looking at the girl with a frown.

The girl just smiled and raised her hands as if in surrender, and at that moment I realized that she didn't even have a tray or plate to carry her food - she was here just to tease me?

I hoped my warning to her was enough and turned forward again to face Peyton. "It's all right now."

"Okay," Peyton said suspiciously.

He then continued talking, but I couldn't really pay attention to him as I felt another touch on my butt.

Sighing, I turned around, and while the girl was still keeping her hands up, she was now touching my ass with her crotch, bringing her much closer to me than I would have liked.

"Are you finished?" I asked with little humor.

The girl turned away from me, letting out a giggle. "Not yet, but I'll settle for the moment." After saying that, she walked out of the line and hurried towards the dining room tables.

I watched her go to one of the tables with narrowed eyes. That girl seemed annoying to me, and there was something rather disturbing about the way she was acting that didn't bode well. She had literally touched me in the middle of the cafeteria. I had never met someone so brazen. Was it because she was confident that the Alex of this reality would not have said anything, or was she confident that she could get away with it even if he accused her? Either way, it seemed like this girl knew me, which I didn't like at all.

As I was thinking about that, the guy behind her shot a glance in the direction she went and then turned to look at me. "Did she do something to you? She was very close to you," expressed the simply dressed boy with concern.

I gave the boy a slight smile. "It's settled now, thanks for caring."

The boy smiled brightly at me. "No problem!"

I turned forward again, absently thinking about how nice the guy in the black shirt was, but when I saw Peyton's expression, I tensed.

He looked me straight in the eyes. “She was teasing you, wasn't she?"

"Why do you say that?" I feigned ignorance, looking away.

Peyton put one hand on his hip. "Because I have eyes," he said grumpily. "Why didn't you say anything? She could have been suspended."

I took a step forward as the line moved, the rich smell of my goal tickling my nose. "Today is Lasagna Friday." I said simply.

"So?" Peyton looked at me in confusion.

"To report that girl, I would have to go to the principal, which would take me a long time, right?" I explained. "That would make me miss lasagna day?"

Peyton thought a bit, before nodding. "Probably."

I shrugged. "There's your answer."

Peyton gave me an expressionless look, pretending to maintain a dumbfounded appearance. However, he wasn't doing such a good job. The corners of his lips quivered and twitched upward slightly in a clear effort to contain his laughter. Finally, he gave up, sighed, and massaged his forehead with his hand. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked.

I didn't understand your question, lasagna is sacred. One of the few good things in life.