Adrien's POV
"Man, why are you even friends with her?" He looks up from his notes to the brunette who broke the silence before his eyes went back to the notebook.
"Marinette? She's okay," he says, unaware of the elephant in the room.
"Her girl's literally an Amazon warrior." This makes him take an enormous bite out of his eclair because this would be his fifth warning today. It's not like Alya has actually murdered someone. She's just known for getting suspended and mentally killing bastards with a glance.
"You believe those?" He closes his notebook, feeling his headache grow from dull to something. Most boys have a problem with her, but he doesn't because why would he?
"Woah, is this your test paper?" He's too late to respond, and the brunette gets a hold of what he's been hiding under his tower of books the entire time.
"Be a friend, and don't tell anyone."
"That you're the one who got the highest score in the entire grade level?" He's not your stereotypical nerd. He has friends, goes out with them, and has fun like normal teenagers do, albeit, well, they were rare. He's just an inch more sophisticated than everyone else, but he doesn't need to tell that around.
"Yes, I got one mistake out of a hundred-item exam, so what?"
"Dude, you couldn't get that one thing right?"
"There was a rubric, and when there's a rubric, there are teachers who abuse it."
"It's not like no one knows that already. I don't need to announce it." At that, the German boy hops off the table he's been sitting on and goes somewhere he couldn't care less.
He looks at the other piece of éclair lying idle on the table along with other things. It's an unidentifiable feeling, and he's yet to familiarize himself with it.
He leaves the table and begins his way towards the bench she sits on across the yard. He tries to surprise her, but to no avail, and she only scoffs at him, much to his dismay.
"Really, you give a baker's daughter a pastry?" she says, stealing the bag from him.
"Where did you get this from? I don't recognize the icon." She takes a bite and soon moans at the sweetness of the cream cheese filling.
"A family cheese cafe on my way from Montmartre."
"Wow, this is amazing!" He tries to sit but gets repeatedly shoved instead.
"No, you have to go. Alya will be here soon," she says, mouth still full.
"She doesn't have a problem with me, does she?"
"I'm not sure, and I don't think I want to deal with finding out." He's yet to meet the auburn-haired girl, but a part of him is sure it will be something close to a television drama.
"You're not going to go, are you?" The next thing he knows is she's pulling-dragging-him to the corridor leading to their gym.
They're relatively too close to each other, which would usually cause him to panic. Instead, he regards the slightly remorseful look she makes.
"I just don't want her to find out yet."
"It's not like we're secretly dating." Her eyes widen at him, and he concludes it's a terrible answer as she hits him everywhere.
"I just met you this week!" A few minutes later, she's finally calm, and he holds his side in exaggerated pain.
"There's just something about me that she thinks makes me vulnerable to jerks."
"Like you're too kind?"
"Like I live life to the fullest with no regrets." She proves her point by shamelessly staring into his soul, and he tries not to sympathize with her.
"Anyway, see you on Friday?" She says after a brief silence.
"Yeah," he says, and she's off to sit with Alya, who presumably asks where she's been while he watches from afar.