9 | He Loves Me

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"I'm this close," Iris demonstrates with her fingers, placing her index and thumb in the smallest amount apart from touching, "to murdering Graham."

"What did he do this time?" I take a bite from my sandwich and looking back to meet Iris' brown eyes.

"We were in first hour right?" Iris begins to drag a story, and I nod my head along to assure her I was listening, "and Mrs Russo asked a question. No one raised their hand, and Mrs Russo declare that whoever answers the questions gets extra credit." Iris looks to see if I was still listening, I nod, "so I raised my hand. But you know I always mumble my answer beforehand to check through my words and Graham heard it and raise his hand in the air."

"So?"

"She picked him over me! He got credit for my answer and got the extra credit I deserved! I wanted that extra credit!"

I chuckle to myself as I stir myself away from Iris' face as she continues to ramble on about her grade. Graham enters through the double doors and pass towards our table; today, he sported on black Yeezys, baggy black pants that had a thick white stripe down the middle on both legs, and a plain black tee. He walks over, a cheerful smile grace his features.

"What's wrong with her?" He drags out the silicone dark blue chair, and plotting down a seat. He shots an finger towards the curly-head's direction, her eyes blazing as she glares at him.

"You stole her extra credit," I explain, finishing the last bite of my delicious sandwich.

"Oh, shit," Graham swore, "she's going to kill me."

"You bet your butt I am!" Iris roared, loud enough to draw in the attentions from fellow students around us. Their eyes locked on the scene, "you took Mrs Russo's extra credit. She never offers extra credit!"

"Well, to be fair," Graham raised both his hands in the air defensively, "you have like a 104% in that class and I have like 81%! Can you at least give me this?"

"Of course, I would!" Iris rebuttals, her tone staying consistent in volume, "but you could've asked. You should've asked before taking my full answer!"

Graham frowns, "I'm sorry."

"You better be," Iris lowers her volume, her tone in a mere whisper, "you better watch your sleep." Her eyes in slits as she levelled herself to Graham's level. While I make my attempts to not laugh at the exchange, Graham turns to me with panicked eyes.

"You want to have a sleepover tonight?"

"Uh, no, your death, your problem," I shook off Graham; finding the situation entirely too funny. A 6'1 tall, muscular guy afraid of a barely 5'1 girl with short legs and little to no muscles.

"Rose, if it'll make you feel better, I'll buy you food for the rest of the week." Graham bargains, turning back to the girl. Her eyes perks up and a smile graces her face as she begins to drop the plastic fork she was holding dangerously close.

"K!"

She backs herself securely into her seat, and begins to proceed to eat her packed lunch—which was a turkey sandwich with mac and cheese on the side—and noms on the food like she previously didn't have a scene in front of the entire senior year.

Graham cock his brow at her immediate change in attitude before sighing and I see slight sweat forming on his hairline. "That was easier than I expected." He turns back to Iris.

"You're still helping me with school right?"

"Yup," Iris replies, smacking her lips. "But, if you ever think of stealing my extra credit, especially without my permission, expect this," she picks back up the fork, "in your neck."

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