The Art of Being a Gentleman

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"YOU'VE GOT TO come over tonight, man," Mack was saying in a hushed voice as he leaned across the small gap between his and David's desks.

They were in the middle of French class and Mr. Stiles was letting them work in pairs to complete a worksheet while he finished some grading he was behind on. David would choose this over having to listen to him lecture them any day of the week.

"Why?" David scribbled down one of the words he was missing.

"Because," he answered excitedly, "These kids added me to their Fortnite group and man, they are just awful. I destroy them every game. It's awesome. You've got to come help me ki—" Mack trailed off as he noticed Mr. Stiles watching them from his desk, his expression clearly saying he was not impressed. "My bad, Mr. S," Mack called out easily. Turning in his seat he sent the student behind him a confident smile, "Hey Olivia."

A pretty girl with long brown hair and big doe-like eyes lifted her head from her paper, hearing her name. When she realized it was Mack talking to her, her eyes instantly lit up in amusement and she gave him a friendly smile back, "Yeah?"

"You're smart, right? I was just wondering how you say 'kick some ass' in French?"

She chuckled, her eyes flickering mischievously to the teacher at his desk watching them. "Um, I guess you'd say something like botter des culs, I think."

"Sweet, thanks," he beamed, winking at her before turning back in his seat. "Alright, Dave, you've got to come help me botter-"

"Mack."

He lifted his head at Mr. Stiles' sharp tone. "I'm saying it en francais," he defended innocently. Mr. Stiles stared wordlessly back, and Mack caved. "Alright, alright. Back to work, I got it. Thanks a lot, Olivia."

The girl's jaw dropped with a laugh, and Mack shot David an amused look before pretending to read his paper again.

David couldn't help but smirk, whispering, "How does he hate me more than you?"

Mack snorted, shaking his head, and writing down the next answer.

After they were halfway through the worksheet, Mr. Stiles stood and started to move around the room handing out papers. David kept his focus on the work he was doing, wanting to get it done as soon as possible, until Mr. Stiles handed Mack's back to him, silently moving onto the next person.

David watched as Mack flipped it over, revealing the letter 'B' written in red pen across the top of the sheet. "Nice," he grinned, meeting Mack's fist with his own when he held it out.

"Thanks," Mack smiled, scanning over the page. "My mom's going to frame this, I bet."

David snorted, moving back to his textbook to search for the answers to the next questions, but anticipation built in his chest. He couldn't wait to see Mr. Stiles' face when he had to hand David's paper back. He had proved himself not to be a failure, not to be a disappointment. Ever since he had handed the essay in, he had been trying to choose what clever remark he would make when he got his grade back, but he had decided on just giving his teacher a smug smirk, knowing that would bug him even more.

The white sheet slid under David's nose and he had to consciously slow himself down so that he didn't look like a kid eager to rip his presents open on Christmas morning. As casually as he could, he flipped the page over and tipped his head towards Mr. Stiles, readying his smile, but something caught his eye.