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❝ i have to shoot low otherwise it won't hit you, ❞
"I HAVE our next mission," Jess declared, running up to Hartley's side as they exited the school.
It had been a week since he pulled the fire alarm, and Hartley's mood had been rapidly decreasing. The track season, the looming threat of winter, and what came along with it were the only constants on her mind. She had no free time to think about pulling pranks with Jess, or sharing gossip with Kanan, or studying with Willow. Her thoughts went track, winter, track, winter, over and over again, back and forth.
"By mission do you mean fighting off alien races or nazi organizations?" Hartley questioned, quirking a brow.
"This isn't a comic a book,"
"Then I'm not interested,"
"Oh, come on, Barbie, you know you want to," Jess persuaded, gesturing to her hot pink t-shirt that did in fact have 'BARBIE' written in bubble letters on it. "You had fun last time, don't lie."
"That's besides the point," Hartley shook her head, "we have to write that stupid essay about the 'dark side of teenage rebellion' for Mr. Martin."
"That's not due for a week," Jess brushed her off.
She rolled her eyes, "well, I'm a... slow writer?"
"I've seen you write notes, Hart, we both know that's not true," Jess reminded, causing the Morales girl to huff.
He was right. She was a notoriously fast writer, not a particular good one, but all her years of drawing made her pretty handy with a pencil.
"I..." she internally cursed herself. She didn't have a counter argument.
Her instincts kicked in, and because she couldn't fight, she was left with flight. She attempted to flee, speeding up her steps so Jess had to jog to keep up. However, she was yanked backwards when Jess caught hold of her backpack.
"Not so fast," he teased, smirking at the comical pout that was on her face, "come on, if you do this for me, I'll leave you alone for two weeks."
"Who was it who said, 'don't make a deal with the devil'?" Hartley inquired, mockingly tapping her finger on her chin.
"So I'm the devil now?" Jess scoffed, unable to keep the smile off his face.
"You act like it,"
"You know, the devil was really just an angel who fell from heaven,"
