Chapter 134: Chapter 134: The Double-Standard Dog
Holly Winslow was stunned for a few seconds. Mortir Quincy watched her, chuckling under his breath. He was dying to fucking ravage her, to kiss her fiercely a couple of tis, and then run his hands all over her.
The angle was a bit awkward. Everyone only saw the "cousins" hugging; they didn’t see Mortir Quincy’s kiss.
Holly Winslow got off Mortir Quincy, her face flushed red. She glanced around and saw no strange looks, then indignantly whispered, "You call this ’asking’?"
"You could call it a preemptive strike." Mortir Quincy tilted his head, a charming smile playing on his lips.
’I’m a goner.’
Holly Winslow had zero resistance to Scholar Quincy’s charm—that much was already proven. She pouted. "Don’t just kiss
whenever you feel like it."
Mortir Quincy considered this seriously for a mont. In his magnetic voice, he said, "It wasn’t whenever I felt like it. I was very serious."
Holly Winslow: "..."
Gabe Chaucer had once again missed an opportunity to bust students for puppy love. He looked quite pleased as he saved the video of the girls’ tug-of-war match.
He thought the girls’ team wouldn’t make it past the first round, but they unexpectedly did. Beaming, he praised the girls, "Not bad, not bad at all."
Ahem. Although the school’s motto was "friendship first, competition second," every horoom teacher wanted their class to win.
It was an unspoken truth.
His happiness was short-lived. The Rocket Class’s boys’ and girls’ teams were both eliminated in the second round. In the face of true strength, good grades were useless.
Pantheon shook his reddened hands, a look of shock on his face. "Holy shit, the girls from Class 5 are beasts! With that one pull, I felt like I was about to go flying."
It was a slight exaggeration, but they really were incredibly strong.
"Did you see the builds on those girls from Class 5? It’s no wonder we lost."
Chase Hawkins let out a few shaless laughs, then patted his shoulder and added in a low voice, "The third girl with the straight bangs wasn’t bad looking. Her eyes were huge."
Pantheon’s interest was piqued. He imdiately looked over, studied her for a few monts, and nodded. "Yeah, she’s pretty cute. Not as cute as your cousin, though. Your cousin looks good even without bangs."
"Duh. Your cousin is widely recognized as the prettiest in our entire grade. I heard she even ranked first in the whole school. A bunch of guys are boosting her ranking on so website." Chase Hawkins shot him a look. Anyone with eyes could see that Holly Winslow was beautiful.
It’s just that her ’cousin’ kept too close an eye on her.
’Boosting her ranking?’
Mortir Quincy didn’t know about this. He frowned. ’What the fuck is that all about?’
’I don’t give a damn about their stupid rankings.’
Holly Winslow, squatting on the ground, hadn’t heard their quiet conversation. Her eyes t Mortir Quincy’s gaze from above, and she blinked, signaling for him to crouch down.
The girl used to have a bit of baby fat, but it was gone now. Her features had matured, and she was very beautiful.
Fuck.
’This feeling of other guys lusting after my girl is fucking awful.’
’Fucking awful.’
Three curses in a row were enough to prove his displeasure.
In the end, the girls from Class 5 and the boys from Class 8 won first place, each earning a certificate of honor for their class.
But it wasn’t over yet. The school’s teachers and the principal were also going to have a tug-of-war match, forming a "teacher team."
The principal, in his forties and a little pudgy, stood on one side with Gabe Chaucer and a few other teachers.
Before they even started pulling, Pantheon clicked his tongue. "I’ll bet fifty cents that Old Shaw’s team wins for sure."
"Is that even a question? The principal’s on that team. The other teachers wouldn’t dare to win."
Chase Hawkins retorted. He was feeling hot and muggy and wanted to find a place to escape the heat.
Just then, he saw Holly Winslow tugging on Mortir Quincy’s shirt to shield herself from the sun, even using it to wipe the sweat from her face.
"..."
’Isn’t Mortir Quincy a germaphobe?’
Last ti, Boris Owens put his stinky socks on Mortir Quincy’s stool, and Mortir hadn’t sat on it to this day.
He figured Mortir Quincy was the type of person who had double standards for everything.
A classic hypocrite.
Mortir Quincy noticed his gaze, glanced at Holly Winslow, then raised his eyes and glared at him with displeasure. Chase Hawkins: "..."
’I swear to god, I was looking at the shirt!’
He silently moved a little farther away. Discretion was the better part of valor.
"Mortir Quincy, let’s make a bet. Guess which side will win. If I guess right, you buy
an iced Coke. If you guess right, I’ll buy you one."
Holly Winslow tilted her head back, her big eyes darting around. She pointed at Gabe Chaucer’s team and said, "I’ll pick first. I pick Teacher Chaucer’s team."
It was a completely one-sided bet; his odds of winning were zero percent. Her objective was also crystal clear: an iced Coke.
Mortir Quincy pretended not to notice her sche and simply nodded. "Alright."
The outco was determined from the very beginning. Gabe Chaucer’s team won.
The principal was delighted. His face flushed, he wiped away so sweat and said, "Getting old. That really takes it out of you."
The other teachers flattered him, "You’re still young, Principal. We couldn’t possibly out-pull you."
The principal chuckled. "When I was young, I was on the athletics team..."
The group of teachers went on and on for a while before finally gathering the students and dismissing them for lunch.
Holly Winslow knew the school store would be packed, so the mont they were dismissed, she grabbed Mortir Quincy and ran toward it.
When it ca to running to the school store, no student was slow. Forget running 800 ters in three minutes; they could probably do it in two.
By the ti she and Mortir Quincy got to the school store, it was already packed—so crowded you could barely move.
Especially around the section selling ice cream and drinks.
Not ready to give up, Holly Winslow tried to squeeze her way in, but Mortir Quincy held her back firmly. "Wait for
out here."
Zeke Zane and the others had said that guys loved crowding into the school store in the sumr to "accidentally" bump into girls.
Only after Holly Winslow was standing safely to the side did he push his way into the store.
With his cold expression, Mortir Quincy gave off a keep-your-distance vibe. The other students in the store, whether consciously or not, did their best to stay away from him. Ahem, no one wanted to get points deducted.
It was safe to say that most of the students in the store weren’t wearing their school ID badges.
It took six or seven minutes for Mortir Quincy to finally buy one room-temperature Coke and one iced Coke. Once outside, he handed the room-temperature one to Holly Winslow.
When Holly Winslow felt how warm it was, she imdiately pouted and stared eagerly at the Coke in Mortir Quincy’s hand.
"Hold on."
Mortir Quincy chuckled, opened the bottle in his hand, and drank about half of it. Then he took the bottle from Holly Winslow, opened it, and poured half of its contents into his own. After giving it a couple of shakes, he handed it back to her.
Holly Winslow’s eyes lit up. She took a sip with a grin. The cool liquid helped chase away so of the heat. She shook her head in delight. "Delicious! Kamsahamnida!"
Seeing her look of pure satisfaction, Mortir Quincy felt a sudden, strong urge to have a child with her. He gently tapped her on the forehead. "Even if it tastes good, you can’t drink this stuff all the ti. You have to think about having kids in the future."
His sudden comnt about "having kids in the future" made her choke on the fizzy drink. "COUGH, COUGH, COUGH."
After catching her breath, she glared at him. "Can you please not say things like that when I’m eating or drinking? Do you know what ’R-rated’ ans? I’m a minor! It’s not appropriate!"
"Hmm~"
Mortir Quincy took a sip of his Coke and thought seriously for a few seconds. "If it were possible..."
"...I’d rather act than talk."
"..."
Holly Winslow figured she could never win an argunt against Quincy the Rogue. She gave up on the idea of a coback and just sipped her Coke, taking one small mouthful at a ti.
She licked her lips.
Mortir Quincy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. "How about a field trip to the grove?"
"No way. I’m going back to do my howork."
Holly Winslow had no intention of letting him get his way, but in the end, she still ended up in the grove.
That rascal, Mortir Quincy, had snatched her Coke.
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