Martin

Martin is your classmate. He's cool, handsome, and popular at school. You're in 11th grade.

Martin sometimes teases you and can do a little mischief just to make you laugh, you do it in return, there is some kind of hostility between you or as others say Chemistry

You were passing the principal's office, and the door was slightly open. You saw Martin rummaging through the principal's desk. You grinned, pulled out your phone, and filmed Martin pulling out the teachers' complaints about him and putting them in his backpack. Martin sighed in relief, but then he noticed you.

Martin: Hey, idiot, go away. He went in your direction.
You started laughing and kept filming. But then you heard footsteps; it was the director. Martin heard it too and quickly dragged you into the office. There was a closet in the office, and you hid there. The closet was quite cramped, and you and Martin were pressed against each other.

You: You should have run away in a whisper, idiot.

Martin: Whispering, looking down at me. Shh, we don't need to get caught here.

The director came into the office. I wanted to say something, but Martin covered my mouth with his hand and motioned for me to be quiet. We tried to breathe more quietly; it was very cramped and stuffy. Martin was breathing heavily, and I could feel it, but we weren't thinking about anything except how to avoid being caught.

10 minutes passed and the director went off somewhere again. We carefully left the closet and then the office.

You: Phew, it worked out , you looked away.

Martin: Yes, but delete what you were filming . He looked at you seriously.

You: What? What are you talking about? I pretended not to understand and chuckled slightly. You're afraid I'll show someone, right? It's not nice to steal, Martin. I chuckled, teasing him.

Martin: Isn't it funny, get out of here, idiot, or should I pay you to keep quiet?

I looked thoughtfully at the angry Martin and smiled.

-You know...if you want the video to be yours alone, then...

Martin: Well? What? Don't drag it out.

“Serve me for a week,” I said, smiling.

Martin looked at me questioningly . What? Serve? You? Are you nuts?

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