“Honestly, Ari, you did kill yourself studying for this test,” Rafe says, looking at me seriously, “and I know you know the material up and down. He must have included trick questions –“
“Rafe,” I sigh, leaning back against the arm of the couch, “I don’t need the Prince going to yell at my professors for me, that’s not going to make a man like Neumann be any nicer or give me better grades.”
“I don’t want him to be nicer, I want him to be fair,” Rafe corrects.
“Well, at least we’re all doing shitty in Chemistry,” I sigh, “not just me. So. He is technically being fair.”
Rafe shifts uncomfortably in his seat, unhappy to not be able to do something to help me, I know. And my heart warms more to see him like that, to know that I have a big brother who’d tear the world to pieces to make it
