I sit down beside him and bring out my books while he stretches his hand to grab his laptop and the notes he "claims" he uses to study. "So, Marcus, what subjects don't you understand? And which topics? So we know where to start and not waste our time here," I say, already flipping open my notebook. He leans back in his chair dramatically. "You know you don't have to be so strict, partner. We are literally the same age," Marcus says. "And?" I reply. "If you want to get things done faster, we have to be smart and focused." Marcus looks at me funny, like I just transformed into his math teacher. Then he slowly reaches for his glasses, puts them on, and opens his book.
"I don't get Calculus 1 and 2. The last time I actually focused in that class was when we were looking for x… not delta," he says. I blink at him. "You are such a dunce. Gosh," I mutter. We begin studying. Surprisingly, it's actually productive. I explain limits, derivatives, and the mysterious appearance of delta like I'm hosting a private masterclass. Marcus listens… sometimes. Other times, he just stares at me like I'm the lesson.
We study for hours, taking a 20-minute break after every two hours like disciplined scholars. During our second break, my stomach decides to embarrass me. "Marcus, can we at least get McDonald's or something? I'm starving," I say, holding my stomach dramatically. "Aww, how cute. Look at you begging me for food, me emociona. ," Marcus says with that stupid grin. "Ugh, you disgust me, you twat," I reply. Honestly, trying to agree with this dude is a full-time job.
I open the McDonald's app and order a burger meal for myself… and a kiddies meal for Marcus because he decided to be extra annoying. When I show him the order, he squints. "Why is mine a kiddie's meal?" "Because you behave like one," I respond sweetly. Once that's settled, Marcus flops onto his bed and starts tapping his guitar like he's preparing for a world tour. "Can you please leave that damn guitar alone for once?" I say. He begins to laugh. "Why? Do you want me to touch you instead?" Marcus asks. I freeze.
"Why must you flirt with every girl your eyes come across? It's not cute. Not hot. It's actually sickening," I say. He clutches his chest dramatically. "Ay, eso realmente me hiere los sentimientos." he says, pouting. I roll my eyes so hard they deserve an award. My phone buzzes. It's Xavier. He texts: *How are you?* I sigh before replying with a simple smiley emoji, indicating I'm fine. Perfect. Thriving. Definitely not in my enemy's bedroom, explaining derivatives.
I suddenly feel a strong stare burning into my forehead. "Hey, what is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask. "Oh… nothing," Marcus says quickly, turning his head. And is that… pink on his cheeks? I narrow my eyes and move closer. "Are you actually blushing? Aww, how cute," I tease. "Oh shut up. You're not even that sly," Marcus mutters, adjusting his glasses nervously. YES. We are not speed-running this romance.
I lean back, folding my arms. "Marcus… are you jealous?" He scoffs immediately. "Jealous? Of who?" I slowly lift my phone and wave it in front of him. He stares at it for a second too long. "You know," he says casually, adjusting his glasses, "it's just funny how you reply so fast to other people but take hours to respond to me." I blink. "Excuse me?" "I'm just observing," he shrugs. "Scientific analysis." "Please. You are not experimenting on my texting habits," I say. He leans forward slightly. "You smile at your phone when other guys text you."
"Oh my gosh. You are insane." "Am I?" he replies, raising a brow. "Because you just smiled." I immediately wipe my face. "I did not." He grins. "You did." "Shut up." He laughs softly and looks away, pretending to tune his guitar again. "Relax. I don't care who texts you," he says, but his tone is slightly off. Slightly tight. "Good," I reply quickly. "Because it's none of your business." "I know." It's giving Moto Moto likes you lmao. "Still annoying though." I stare at him. "You're unbelievable." "And yet you're here," he shoots back. Before I can respond, the doorbell rings. "Food's here," he says, standing up. "Finally. Something useful about you," I mutter, following him downstairs.
He pays for the food, grabs the bags, and hands me mine. I open it and glance at his box. "Open yours," I say sweetly. He does. He goes silent. "Why is this a kiddies meal?" he asks slowly. I take a dramatic sip of my drink. "Because you act like one." His little brother bursts out laughing from the living room. "She cooked you," the kid says. Marcus narrows his eyes at me. "You think you're funny." "I know I am." We head back upstairs with the food. He sits on the bed, I sit at the desk, and for a few minutes we actually eat in peace. Well. Almost peace. "So are you dating Xavier?" he asks casually, biting into his fries.
I freeze mid-chew. "Why do you ask?" "You sighed before replying. That's usually reserved for important people." "You are so nosy." "You are so defensive. "I squint at him. "He's just a friend." "Just a friend," Marcus repeats slowly, like he's tasting the words. "Yes. Just. A. Friend." He nods. "Cool." But he pops a fry into his mouth with unnecessary aggression. I shake my head. "Focus. After this, we're doing derivatives again." He groans dramatically and flops back onto the bed. "If I fail calculus, I'm blaming you." "If you fail calculus, I'm exposing your kiddies' meal to the entire school," I reply calmly. He gasps. "You wouldn't." I smile. "Try me." He stares at me for a second… then laughs.
"You're actually evil." "And yet," I say, opening the textbook again, "you invited me over." He watches me quietly for a moment before leaning closer to the desk. "You know what your problem is?" I don't look up. "Enlighten me." "You pretend you don't enjoy this." My pen pauses. I slowly raise my eyes to meet his. "Enjoy what?" He smirks, but softer this time. "Arguing with me." I hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary. "Open page 47," I say calmly. He grins. And for once… he actually listens.