Perfect love

I wouldn't-

I definitely didn't sleep well last night. I took an eternity falling asleep because the text Jude sent me kept me tossing and turning.

He said he was sorry. But I'm 89% sure it's the same manipulative shit as always.

But still!

I mean, having an ice-cream with a very handsome and intelligent guy wouldn't do me any bad, you know.

On the other hand I'm definitely not going head first into a crazy and manipulative game. Again.

So obviously the fastest shit to choose was to cut him off.

And Mark is not bad himself and gives honest and pure vibes. So good second option.

But I still lost sleep over him and I don't know what the fuck is being written on the board right now.

"Miss Nakamura, are you paying attention?" the teacher suddenly asks.

"Huh? Um, yeah, yeah, I am," I stutter, trying to cover it up.

"Would you mind then giving the answer to this question," she says, pointing at the third equation on the board.

I quickly scan over it and try to, logically, solve it.

Seconds pass and everyone is looking at me now.

Dude, c'mon, I know I'm pretty but all the class?

Okay, focus. X is... Um... I think I didn't put my phone in my backpack this morning. Ups.

FOCUS.

"I'm afraid that you weren't paying attention, Miss Nakamura. Go and stand outside the classroom," she cuts in.

I curse under my breath and exit the room.

So embarrassing.

I look through the little window into the class and try to solve the annoying equation.

It was so fucking easy.

I am so fucking stupid.

X was 7.

I turn my attention to the corridor and anything that could keep me distracted.

After counting the tiles on the wall in front of me for the fifth time, a door slides open and catches my attention.

We continue to look at each other until we both snap out of it.

"What have you done?" I ask.

"Hi! At least we won't be on our own now!" he jokes, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth.

"Why were you kicked out, Mark? I don't see you as the fighting type," I tease with a smile.

"Oh, no, not at all. On the contrary actually. I fell asleep and the teacher didn't appreciate that I though his class was worthy of using if for my dreams," he says, making me laugh, "And you?"

"Pretty much the same. Though I would have said that the teacher didn't like my advanced type of daydreaming."

We fall into a confortable silence and I peak when he's not looking.

His hair is messy and his bandana is a bit crooked. A slight shadow of dark bags hang under his eyes as his shoulders slump forward.

"Can I ask you something?"

He breaks the silence and looks at me.

I nod.

What could be a question I wouldn't be able to answer?