"What about him?" she asked.
"Not guys like that," I said.
"Guys like what? You judge him before even knowing him."
"But there is, or should at least be, no knowing him. It's so obvious and it's always the same. The facade."
"You always talk about it like it's this big thing, but it really doesn't matter. Even though they have a facade, good or bad, they can always take it down when they want and for who they want."
"I know, but it's the same you read about in books. Good girl and badboy have to work together on something. Mysterious badboy smirks, flirts, and she thinks out loud just how jerky and annoying he is, even though she really don't feel that way. And then they meet outside school and he's a gentleman and he's not the same jerk, and he finds her interesting and she finds him frustrating. And they always have this connection, whether it's sexual attraction or just plain understanding, but sure they end up together and no matter how they try, they always end up sad and heartbroken and that's the way it is."
"You read too much," she simply said.
"Otherwise your imagination will stop being colorful."
"You say such weird things sometimes," my friend said.
We were quiet, both observing the "badboy" in the corner with his head in a book. Not very common for the others in his gang, but not very special for him exact.
"I think he's different."
"They always are, but they break your heart anyway," I said.
"Just go talk to him," she insisted. "He's probably your best shot anyway."
"Thanks," I said sarcastically, "but I can't go over to a boy like that and say 'hey, whatcha reading?' No, to obvious and I don't want to talk to him anyway, okay?"
"You're such a prude," she said, before picking up a small piece of paper and throwing it directly at the boy's book, causing him to look up.
"Hey, whatcha reading?" she said, with a sly grin in my direction and I laughed, making the boy chuckle over us.
He held up the books for us to read. I didn't know the book, but were sure it wasn't just a book about cars or sport. It were probably something I would enjoy reading as well, but I didn't say this.
"Exciting," she said and he chuckled again. "What's it about?"
"I don't really know yet. About finding out who you are, I guess."
"Intriguing. But why is a boy like you reading a book like that?" she asked, while kicking me over the leg to indicate that I should say something to him or about his book.
"Well, why do you care, when you're obviously only asking for your friend." He looked at me with a grin, blinking to me and clearly flirting with me.
I defiantly looked down at my books on the table, smiling a little and murmured under my breath 'told you so' and my friend laughed.
"So who are you really?" I asked, giving into my own curiosity.
"What?" he asked with a smile, saying that he understood exactly what we meant, but wanted us to say it out loud.
"She means are you a geek or this badboy you pretend to be?" she asked.
"Ain't no badboy like me," he said. "I don't want to be put into a box, but I am nothing specific. Just trying to find myself." He held up the book and I laughed with him.