I hated math with a burning passion and at the moment these words popped up, I was still wondering where the fuck these formulas were going to get me in life.

Just because you're told to follow the given formula, it doesn't mean you're going to get the right answer straight away. It's like giving you a false sense of hope only to mess you up in the end and that's just pure evil.

It seemed that I wasn't the only one who's not paying attention to what Ms. Hilda was teaching because a girl beside me had fallen asleep the moment my teacher opened her mouth talking about graphing trigonometric functions.

And the girl didn't even realize she was drooling and quietly...moaning?

I couldn't think of a more embarrassing situation than having a sex dream in class. If and when the time comes for her to swallow her partner's kids in her dream, I hope she would choke and die.

And then there were the others, who were constantly fidgeting with their phones, barf-inducing corny lovers passing love notes, and some attention-seeking trollops pridefully swapping stories about which cute boys were going to be raiding their wombs later.

But what caught my interest was to see Alison ignoring her favorite teacher and shamelessly ogling on Dylan Ryker. Never came to my mind she could have a crush on the school hottie since I personally thought she was incapable of liking a human. After she realized I was watching her, she froze and looked down at superhuman speed.

As I looked in front, I noticed a skinny, cute-looking, well-dressed guy had a red Victoria Secret g-string showing through his jeans and it was funny how he kept bouncing all the time like he had something between his butt.

Attempting to suppress my laugh, his odd behavior urged me to put my face down on the table, and just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse, the physical embodiment of every jerk's attitude behind me kicked my chair.

The force lunged me forward and it certainly had smudged my $27 dollars lipstick in the process as I saw a smear of red stained the surface of my desk.

"Oh shit! That's my bad. I'm so so sorry," Dylan murmured apologetically.

I high speed turned to him. "If you sincerely care, I'm fine."

"Actually, I was apologizing to my Converse." A sly smile crafted on his face.

God, I wish I could choke him and watch the light leave his eyes.

"Can't believe you're the type of guy who picks on innocent girls like myself to satisfy your own misery," I sassed at him.

Dylan scoffed. "You're far from innocent, we both know this. You can spare me with your good-girl BS 'cause I'm not buying it."

"Okay, now I gotta talk to you like you're a first-grader," I said. "I fucked up, one time, for God's sake and I admit that I should've never started messing with you."

Dylan folded his hands under his chin and rested his head on the desk. "Is that an apology?"

"Don't push it," was my instant reply.

He tilted his head to the side, smiling innocently. "Aw, for a second I thought Grace Nixon is going to embarrass herself with a bad apology."

"You're going to regret forcing me to do this," I told him and his smile widened.

Clearing my throat, I agonizingly proclaimed. "I, Grace Nixon for the first time in my life, apologize for the cruelty I did to you, Dylan."

It was the worst thing I did and how dramatic it sounded had me questioning my own self.

After I announced that I sent him my most real smile, beaming like an idiot yet Dylan only reacted with a stupid pensive stare.

"Oh, you must want me to act excited. Okay, WOW!" Dylan mocked as I instantly scowled at his words.

Annoyed by his childish attitude, I turned around to focus back on Ms. Hilda at the front, who almost finished drawing two out of six trigonometric functions graphs.

"Not to be a makeup police or anything but your lips look like they just got Chris Browned by someone." His masculine voice suddenly sounded close to my ear.

He was right. I should fix this mess.

After the thought crossed my mind, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor startled me, and shortly, Dylan's tall frame passed by. I was so busy admiring his back, I hadn't realized he was sneakily preventing me from going out of the room.

"What happened to your lips?" Asked a girl, sitting next to my right, named Cristal or something while stifling her laugh.

"What happened to your face?" I retorted sharply with a grin.

Cristal raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What about it?"

"Your face," I repeated. "It doesn't make sense."

"Is there a problem, Grace?" I shifted my eyes to Ms. Hilda, abandoning Cristal, who seemed to be holding back her tears.

"I need to use the bathroom," I told her confidently getting my thoughts straight and away from the crying girl.

But that grossly obese and disgusting specimen of a woman had the nerve to deny me. "Not until Dylan comes back."

I nearly groaned on the spot.

•••

About fifteen minutes passed and there was still no signs of him. I was starting to think that perhaps Dylan got his foot stuck in the toilet hole. However, I reminded myself, considering he was Dylan Ryker, he might be taking his time just to keep me waiting.

After a while, I had enough. I wouldn't waste any time longer waiting for the source of my continual rage. Screw Ms. Hilda and her stupid one student out a time rule. I should put my mismatched shoes back on and storm out. To be clear, I always had a weird habit of taking off my shoes in class but don't worry, my feet don't stink.

Oh fuck!

I couldn't find my other shoe.