Obstinate Elitists

14

Merely grinning at the sound of that, he leaned forward, his fiery, red locks swaying beautifully. And just like that, you were back to imagining him after a shower, droplets dripping from his soft, wet hair. Fuck you, Ginjirou! you wished to shout, mentally shoving the visual away.

At the sound of Mr. Orochi's voice, you gratefully whirled around and escaped the deadly misfortunate of an elite's charms.

Throughout class, you productively followed along with the lesson, despite how easy it was to you. The lead tracing along the lines of the paper was calming to you, distracting you from your hurricane of thoughts when nothing else did. If this one period were to stretch to ten, or even a hundred hours, you would not mind it at all. Time ticked way too fast upon the moments you enjoyed, slipping through your fingers like quicksand.

Much to your dismay, lecture didn't fill up the entire hour like all the other times. Clasping his hands together, the older teacher flitted his gaze around the room. It was something a teacher would do when they were head counting, too prideful to point and count out loud. "Okay! This is perfect," he told the class. "We have an even number of students, which means everyone can pair up without a problem. Alright, to make it simple, pair up with the student in front or behind you. So like you and you would be together..."

Was this a joke? How many times was this going to happen to you? Were you even surprised anymore? Not really. Your partner was none other than Ginjirou.

"Now that we have that all cleared up," the teacher continued, "I will tell you the assignment. I will be handing out a worksheet filled of similar problems to the ones we recently reviewed over. Please solve them together and make sure to communicate! By the end of the hour, I want it finished and turned in. That should be it. I shall dismiss you all for you to start on it then."

Keeping in the sigh threatening to spill from your lips, you were back to square one. Silently sitting in front of Ginjirou, you didn't fail to notice the smug expression on him. If only you were stronger than he was: you would wipe it right off of him.

"Should we get started then?" he pointed out, his arm sprawled out on the sheet. He quickly wrote down both of your names on the blank line, his handwriting small and pretty.

"I can work on it alone and finish it within minutes," you offered up. It was true though. This was child's math to you and there was no reason to lug a guy like him along for the ride. He would only prove to be a nuisance, making the task harder than need be.

He frowned at your kind proposal and had the audacity to shake his head. "Mr. Orochi said we had to work in pairs. We wouldn't want to get in trouble, would we?"

Oh, so now he followed rules, as if he didn't skip the first day of school and was pardoned through his mere status as elite. "Fine, fine!" you snapped out, huffing. "Do what you will."

Your annoyance was not a drawback to him at all, because he sent you a big thumbs up and dove right into the first problem. Analyzing the problem closely, he furrowed his brows and worked through it, manipulating the x and numbers around. Within a few minutes, he was done with it, showing you what he'd done. Skimming your [h/c] hues at the work done, you widened them when everything seemed correct to your standards.

"This is right," you muttered.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" he taunted.

For the rest of the problems, you walked through together. Thankfully, Ginjirou was actually good at the problems, able to keep up with your explanations if he were ever stuck. Maybe you would even say that he was listening intently to your help... He was not a setback, as you originally thought. It twisted envy inside of you, because it meant that not only was he skilled in the athletic department, he was also decent with education. He had a knack for something you trained years and years on... and the idea of that infuriated you.

Finally finishing up the last problem, the two of you had a few minutes left to spare until class was over. Lifting his hand up, the red head made a shape with his two forefingers and shot it right to you, winking.

"What are you doing?" you asked, dumbfounded.

"I'm shooting you a heart," he explained.

You looked at him with disgust. "What for?"

"Because you also shot me a heart," he said innocently, fluttering his lashes in mockery.

What the hell was he talking about? What heart? Was he stupid? You would never, ever do something like that—

Oh. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. He didn't mean...

He drank in your reaction, finding pleasure in the horror spreading through your features. Then he slyly pulled a phone from his pocket, swiping the screen for a good few seconds. Showing you what he landed on, it was a screenshot of his media's feed, with a notification popping up at the top: [Y/N]_[L/N] liked your picture.

This fucker screenshotted it. Not only was he online to see it, but he actually screenshotted it. You were dead meat.