Don't Do It

S i x t e e n

•Dylan's POV•

"Now if you look at the topographical map, you'll see that the contour lines are apart by twenty metres. There are also a number of . . ."

My eyes shut themselves as I'm looking at my textbook and cupping my cheek, drifting off into dreamland. I begin to snore inaudibly.

"Dylan!"

I jump in my seat after hearing the sound of a book being slammed against a table. Greg, my tutor, is not amused since he has a deep frown on his face.

He allows me to call him by his first name since Mr Marcel is too formal for him. He's twenty-five.

"If you're gonna sleep then I'm wasting my time." Greg says harshly before turning his back to me. He erases the work that he wrote on the movable whiteboard, not bothering to hide his anger.

"I'm sorry, Greg, but Geo makes me sleepy." I retort, and sit up straight.

We're in my dad's old office which we've been using as a 'classroom'. The walls are plain white, the floor is wooden, and there's a huge window. The aircon is blowing out hot air because it's raining outside.

Maybe that's contributing to my sleepiness as well.

"Can we do another subject?" I inquire. I know Greg's going to snap but that's the only way I'll stay focused.

"No. We're behind with Geography so you'll have to suck it up."

"But—"

"Is this the wrong time to mention that it's time for lunch and I'm hungry?" a voice that is not involved in the argument asks.

Greg and I turn our heads to the left, perceiving Dean leaning against the door frame with his shoulder. He has a stupid grin on his face and it seems as though he wants to laugh, but thankfully he doesn't.

"Who are you?" Greg wonders, puzzled.

"The hotter version of him." Dean points at me whilst smirking arrogantly. How I wish I could wipe that smirk off his face. "And I'm also his friend. My name's Mark." he lies, protecting his real identity as my brother.

"Go away, shithead." I demand, giving him a flinty look, my face hardening. "You're annoying."

Dean is about to say something, but Greg beats him to it. "Dylan, you know my rule." he says sternly, raising an eyebrow in my direction.

At first I'm confused because I have no idea what he's talking about, until I realise my mistake. I swore.

"Excuse my French." I retort with a deep voice.

"Dude, you're British, but you just said excuse my French." Dean snickers and rolls his eyes.

I'm not even going to bother trying to explain to him that it's an idiom. And I really think saying "excuse my British" would be an assault to the English language anyway.

"Let's go, I'm starving." I look at Greg right after Dean has said that. He's smiling slightly. "Alright, fine, we can take a break. You're dismissed Dylan."

I get up from my seat, more than happy to go and grab a bite. Plus I'll concentrate better once I've eaten something. "Are we doing Geo when I come back?"

Greg shrugs, taking a bite from his green apple as he's sitting behind his desk. "I'll think about it." he casually states after chewing. While he looks at me, he tilts his head towards the door to indicate that I can leave.

"C'mon Dylan, don't just stand there. You gotta cook for me." Dean's irritating voice rings out as he walks to the living room. I exit the office, laughing. "And what the hell makes you think I'd cook for you?"