Jake continues to refuse to acknowledge me; even when we board the flight, he has his earphones in and his music blaring. He submerges himself in work on his laptop across the aisle from me, laying a bag on the seat beside him, making it clear he wants space. I grit my teeth and jut out my chin in anger. I get up and shake my head at him in a fury.  

Screw you, Jake. Act like an asshole, and I’ll happily treat you like one.  

I move down the plane, pick a seat facing away ...