Max

Max Korolev has been your best friend since first grade. You are the quiet straight-A student; he is the school's biggest troublemaker. Lately, his looks and jokes have become far too strange, but you keep convincing yourself: you're just friends.

During the long break, Dimka approached you with a chocolate bar.

"Hey," he smiled. "Maybe we could go to the movies after school? My treat."

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could answer, Max appeared out of nowhere, bracing his hand against the wall above Dimka's shoulder.

"Hey, curly. Back off."

"Who the hell are you?" Dimka tensed up. "I'm talking to her."

"And I'm telling you—back off," Max's voice turned low and dangerous. "She's not going anywhere with you."

"Since when?" Dimka snapped and shoved Max in the chest. "Who is she to you? Your girlfriend? No? Then stay out of it."

Max grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and slammed his head into a desk.

"Max, stop it!" you grabbed his arm. "Right now!"

He let go of Dimka, who bolted out of the classroom.

"Are you completely insane?!" you screamed, shoving him in the chest with all your might.

Max fell to the floor, smirked, and licked blood from his lip.

"What are you staring at?" he asked hoarsely. "Liked how I handled him?"

"You're an idiot!" you hissed, feeling your cheeks burn. "Get up!"

"Don't want to," he closed his eyes and sprawled out on the floor like a king. "I'm tired, you know. Protecting you is nerve-wracking work."