Page 53 of Try Me

Chet:Sure about that?

The other guy studying was giving him a funny look, too. I closed out my messages when Mark didn’t respond, set my phone aside, and got back to work. Annnnnnd now I was the one getting distracted. I kept glancing up to see what Mark was doing and caught his eyes on me a couple of times.

Mark:I hate Bibliographies

I sighed and looked at my study sheet. Odds that I’d be able to focus were diminishing the longer Mark sat across from me. Ironic.

Chet:No one likes them, but it’s not like they’re hard to do.

Mark:I can’t ever remember how to do them.

Chet:There’s an easy trick.

Mark:Yeah? What?

Chet:It’s called the internet. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but you can just type something in that shiny search bar on your screen, sit back, and wait for the hits. Then follow the directions.

Mark:Right. Should’ve expected that.

Another ten minutes passed. Loner dude was glaring at me. I glanced down, realizing I was drumming my eraser against my book. My gaze slid to Mark just in time to see him suppressing a smile.

Chet:Laugh it up. You got in my head. Now I can’t concentrate, so come sit over here or go somewhere else.

Mark:Nope. Deal with it.

Mark’s grin curled higher as he started typing on his phone again.

Mark:You look so irritated right now.

Chet:I am.

Chet:Out of the four floors and 100+ tables, this is the only place you could find to study?

Mark:I like the view right here.

Heat charged through me when he smirked.

Mark:Not you, you cocky dickhead. Behind you.

I twisted in my seat. Behind me on a pedestal, a sculpture replica of Botticelli’sThe Birth of Venusgazed benevolently down upon us, her perky stone breast aimed right at Mark.

Chet:Typical.

Mark shrugged, smirk still in place, and opened his laptop. He pushed strands of hair from his forehead while he waited for it to boot up, then stared at his screen, apparently done harassing me.

Through a gap between the chairs, I eyed the bright purple shorts. He might’ve been done with me, but I wasn’t done with him.

Chet:What’s up with those awful shorts? This the latest frat boy fad?

Mark lifted his middle finger but didn’t look up as he typed with his other hand.

Mark:Fell victim to a little household prank. Came home, all my shorts and jeans gone. Suspect Jesse, given other options in my drawer included silver sequin hot pants. Figured I’d show him.

Chet:And apparently everyone else. I can see your junk.

Just the tip. Or what I thought was the very tip. But it was definitely there and very definitely having a detrimental effect on my attempts to formulate a history paper.

Chet:Your dad skipped tuck and roll lessons?