Blameless ✔

Chapter 1: ❝Not in the mood for food❞

Chapter 1: ❝Not in the mood for food❞ 

♡Mark's POV♡

I wasn't interested in girls.

"Hi, Mark."

They were shameless, untrustworthy organisms with zero self-respect.

"Mark, you were awesome yesterday."

I despised them all.

"Hey, Mark, I was wondering if-"

I turned around to give the petite redhead a glare, which immediately cut off her sentence as she infuriatingly stared at me with those shocked, hazel irises.

"Get lost," I spat, my eyes showcasing no emotion as she tentatively stepped back in fear, her confidence shattered in the small distance created.

A few giggles and loud coughs surrounded us and I didn't have to look to know that it was a group of girls' making fun of the embarrassed redhead to conspicuously satire her. I knew I should've felt bad about my heartless rejection but honestly, I didn't. It was her own fault for approaching me in the first place to ask such a predictable question. The whole student body knew I didn't do relationships but girls' still shamelessly threw themselves at me and asked me out on dates with the hopeful mindset of them turning out to be the 'lucky one'.

It was quite funny really.

Turning on my heel, I proceeded with my journey to the grey, metallic door that was my locker.

That is until a wide, idiotic smile appeared right in front of my face, making me jump.

Rolling my eyes exasperatedly at the blonde-haired male, I punched him unmercifully on the arm as revenge. "Damn, don't scare me like that, man!"

He furrowed his eyebrows in half amusement, half mockery. "You got scared?" He then threw his head back dramatically and laughed, which earned him my reproachful look. "Wow, you got scared," was his conclusion topped with realization and undeniable mischief, making it clear to me that he would, in fact, try this again to sate his childlike curiosity.

Sometimes I wondered if there was a twelve-year-old secretly dwelling in that eighteen-year-old body.

Shrugging, I subconsciously adjusted the black strap of my backpack before responding to him. "You would be too if someone suddenly appeared in front of you with a smile resembling the Joker."

He gave me a look before dubiously saying, "I'll take that as a compliment."

Chuckling, I walked past him to get to my locker but I'm once again stopped as his hand grabbed onto my clothed shoulder to whisper excitedly, "Heather Whitestone is totally checking you out."

I gave him a small, playful grin to mask my annoyance. "Aren't they all?"

My acting must not have been as good as I thought because he pulled away from me and let his hand slide off my shoulder before arching his eyebrow to this time give me a reproachful look. "I would've punched you for being cocky but I can now see that you're not very happy about that."

I chuckled to hopefully lighten up the unwanted atmosphere. "You can see that?"

His eyebrow dropped and that was all it took for his reproachful look to morph into one of blasé.

Releasing a shaky breath, I diverted my gaze to my locker that was a mere three feet away so I wouldn't feel pressured to look at his face. "Whatever, Luke," I began. "You as well as everyone else knows that-"