After the Ink [PUBLISHED]

Chapter Two

The next few days go by quickly. Jacob keeps his distance like I asked. We have to talk during journalism, but he doesn't try to be funny with our past again. I get Vicky to talk a little more, so I'm making some kind of progress with her. Will is still nosey and blunt. It's strange having polar opposites in my group, but it keeps things interesting.

Friday morning, everyone seems to be in a good mood. It's that Friday feeling getting to everyone. The football game only adds to the buzz.

For lunch, Casey and I eat in the cafeteria. She's going on about that guy in her psychology class again.

"Why don't you just ask him out already?" I ask her.

"I want him to ask me out," she says. "I don't want to come off as desperate."

I roll my eyes. "It won't come off as desperate unless you're persistent about it. It'll just show that you're interested." She still doesn't look convinced. "Maybe suggest doing something as friends first."

"I can't do that." She shifts in her seat. "I can't just ask him to do something with me."

"Get to know him a little better. See what he likes and if you share something in common, then there's something to bond over. And if he likes you enough, then he'll ask you out."

She picks at her fries. "How are you so good at this?"

"I guess getting my heart broken has opened my eyes," I say as lightly as I can. "I'm gonna go throw my trash." I take my tray over to the trash cans. As I'm tossing it all away, I feel someone behind me.

"Hey, gotta pen I can borrow?"

I'm face to face with Dylan's smiling, green eyes. "Not now, no," I laugh. "It's already Friday. Shouldn't you have learned to bring your own supplies by now?"

He shrugs. "I'm a slow learner."

His nonchalant attitude makes me think he's not. "Whatever you say."

"I have a reputation to keep up. I can't bring my own supplies."

I raise a brow. "Reputation?"

"Yes," he smirks. He reaches out and throws something in the trash can. "I'll see you in class?"

I nod and he walks off. Casey is eyeing me suspiciously as I approach the table. "What?" I ask, sitting down.

"Were you just talking to Dylan Parker?"

"Yeah? Why?"

"You guys are friends now?"

"We have class together," I say, shrugging.

Lunch ends and I walk with her until we go off into different hallways. I have just two more classes to go before the weekend officially starts.

Mrs. Beattie isn't in yet when I walk into class with more students filing in behind me. Dylan strides in casually. I envy his relaxed and stress-free look. He sits down without looking at me. I wonder what it's like in the mind of Dylan Parker.

A balding man with a white button up shirt rushes in and stands at the front of the class and sets some things down on Mrs. Beattie's desk.

"Can I have all eyes up here please? Thank you," his deep voice echoes in the room. It's hard not to pay attention. "You can call me Mr. Larry. Mrs. Beattie had a family matter to deal with, so I'll be your substitute for today's class. She left behind a reading assignment for you all. In her instructions, she wanted you all to work on it separately, but some students had a hard time with it in the last class. Either work alone or in partners, just keep the noise level down."