PROBLEM XXVIII : Closet Nerd

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PROBLEM XXVIII | Closet Nerd

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PROBLEM XXVIII | Closet Nerd

Never make a deal with the devil.

It was a matter of common sense to never do so. In the end, devil is going find a loop hole in that deal and destroy you. Because that’s what devils do, right?

A deal with the devil does not end with you and a happy smile on your face. Well, say you managed to trick the devil, but that’s pretty rare and in a case where Clover Lian is concerned, it is rather impossible.

“Hey, what are you thinking?”

“Thinking about myself in third Person.”

“Okay,” The person whistled, “What are you thinking about yourself in third person?”

I let out a frustrated sigh and muttered, “What are you doing alive?”

Apparently, this person likes puns and straight forward, useless answers because he answered, “Breathing.”

I rolled my eyes, thee couldn't have been a more obvious answer. “Hey Greg,” A squeaky voice said. I took a glance over the girl the voice belonged to. She was pretty, brunette and a sharp nose. She had blue irises, with framing long eyelashes. Her pin straight blonde hair cascaded down to her shoulders. She had the face to become a queen bee, and all it took was cute nerdy glasses to top off her look.

I glanced back at Greg, who sat beside me. I could see him drooling mentally. I nudged him in the ribs, making him start up, “Hey Olive.”

Olive blushed the colour of blood and clutched her books to her chest. She gave us a shy smile and turned to walk away. I at once  glared at Greg deathly. Greg his head vigorously, his eyes wide in horror.

“Olive!” I called, much to Greg’s horror. He was looking at me, with a frantic face, pleading me to dismiss her for the time. I grinned wickedly at him, and looked at Olive who was looking at me with a muddled face.

“Hi, my name is Clover. This idiot never introduced me,” I pouted at Olive and sent a glare at Greg, whose head was now casted down, pretending to read our prescribed textbook. But I knew he was listening to every word Olive and I spoke. Sneaky bastard.

“Actually, it’s Olivia. Your friend over here,” Olive said, waving her hand at Greg, “Enjoys comparing me to a fruit.”

Greg suddenly looks up, “What’s so bad about being compared with an Olive? They are fruits obtained from Olea europoea. Family, Oleaceae. Also if you didn’t know, Olive oil make good food. And the Olive residues are also used in preparations of various stuff that you girls cake you face with.”

“Excuse me!” I gasped. “I never have, never do cake my face, you pit-hole!”

Greg raised his eyebrow, “Pit-hole?”

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