He had been bothering me all day about wrestling. Normally, it's not a problem. But today, it was the head of every conversation. My best friend, Punk, needed me to help him practice his finishing move. I was the only one who actually practiced with him, but the last time he tried his finishing move on me, my nose was broken.

"Spence, you're the only one who can take that hit please?"

"I don't want a broken nose Punk! Again!" I was getting fed up with his constant begging for the day.

"I promise. I won't! I've been practicing!" His obnoxiously adorable brown eyes pleaded with mine. I hate that I gave it to him so easily.

"Fine. But if I even feel like my nose is broken, I'm never helping you with that move again." I was engulfed in a strong hug.

"Spencer Hardy, you are the best! Meet me at the gym at 4?"

"I'll be there." Our conversation was interrupted by the bell.

" Welp. I'll see you in fifth period. Later Punk." I say walking towards my history class.

"Later Hardy! Don't be late!" He shouted back at me. Reaching my history class, I took my seat in the back corner.

Yeah, yeah. Typical loner shit. I just prefer it.

It's the one time I get to work on my art without being asked about it. Punk had asked me to help him design his ring gear one day after he had seen my drawings. So, it's what I do most of the time in my classes to pass time.

Currently I have been designing a new pair of wrestling trunks for him. He loves his city being a Chicago naive. His normal colored six pointed stars were replaced with the logo for the Chicago Cubs on the back of the trunks. His kick pad stars were also replaced with the Cubs logo. It's a simple change, but knowing him, it's perfect.

"Spencer." I heard my history teacher call my name. I looked up. All eyes were on me. Ah fuck. I wasn't paying attention to the question.

"What was D-Day in World War 2?"

"Allied Powers stormed the beaches of Normandy where the Axis powers were held."

"Correct. But focus." I got lucky. That was the one thing I remembered from the reading. I continue working on my drawings, but looking up every once in a while.

The rest of the class flew by. The next thing I knew, it was lunch. At lunch, I don't have anyone to sit with. Punk is normally in detention. From ditching class or not doing homework. As I entered the cafeteria, I was surprised to see him sitting at the empty table. I joined him, sitting across from him.

"Whoa. For once you don't have detention?!" I asked, sounding surprised.

"Worse. I have to finish all the homework I'm missing."

"It can't be that bad." He looked up at me, giving me a glare.

"Oh really?" He rummaged through his backpack, pulling out a stack of papers. The stack was at least 3 inches thick.

"When is all this due?" I asked looking through the stack of papers.

"Friday. Hell, They weren't even going to give me till then. I had to beg for an extension."

"Well. Be lucky you have a friend who keeps all her papers." I couldn't let him go in alone on this. I feel bad for him. Although this is all his fault.

"Come over to my place after the gym."

"What about your parents? They still absolutely hate me." he asked.

And he wasn't wrong. My parents did hate him. They think I got my piercings and tattoos the minute I started hanging out with him. Which is 110% false. I've had them for a while. They just didn't notice them. But the minute Punk came over, they noticed everything on him and me.

Punk is a tattoo freak. His left arm is a full sleeve of tattoos with a few revolving around items of luck. The four aces in a deck of cards, a koi fish swimming down a stream, and a horseshoe. Hell, he even has one that says luck is for losers. And he has his tongue and his lip pierced.

"They're not going to be home. They went back to Carolina to check up on my brothers over there."

My two older brothers Jeff and Matt didn't want to move to Chicago. So my parents let them stay in North Carolina with our grandparents. But they go back to check on them. My brothers had a habit of going away for a few days. Traveling to different cities to go wrestle.

"God Spence. How did I get so lucky to have you?" Punk asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

"I don't know Brooks." I chuckled after using his real last name.

"Spencer. You know how I feel about my name." He growled.

"I know Phil. I just love messing with you. It's how I deal with you." I chuckle again. He groans after my sentence.

"Be lucky I like you somewhat. Or else, I would have walked away from this conversation the minute you called me Brooks."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. We both grabbed our bags heading out of the cafeteria.