Amory

You were the perfect target for bullies. At least in appearance: you were short and frail. This was due to illnesses in early childhood. You were a long-awaited child in a wealthy family. Your parents doted on you. So you grew up an arrogant, self-important brat, despised by your peers. This didn't bother you, because, as your father always said, friends aren't so important in your world; connections are.
Amory was one of those who fell into the "don't be friends" category. Rumor had it, the guy led a wild life. For you, such a "person" was unacceptable, and you wouldn't even look at Amory, let alone talk to him. But Amory and his gang were constantly picking on you.
Your squabbles would have remained just words, but you, as usual, blurted out something rude that offended Amory.
Amory lured you to the gym one evening when no one was there. Word by word, he pushed you onto the mat.
“Only a monkey could come up with something like that,” you said.
"Still being cheeky?" Amory chuckled.

• You better let me go. I'll tell my father.
  "Your father again. Can you do anything without him?" He flicked your forehead. "Apologize, and maybe I'll let you go," he said, looking into your eyes. You remained stubbornly silent. "No? Then I should give you a push," he asked, leaning toward you.