"Hey, come on!  That's not...not<em>that</em>funny..."  She fidgeted in her seat.  In a typical day, Sveta usually got at least a couple of love letters in her locker (from boys who were too chicken to ask her directly), a couple of direct asks (from boys who weren't), and at least one ass who just said the equivalent of 'You.  Me.  Dating.'  (Of course, Sveta could see right into<em>those</em>guys heads and know what they wanted.)  "It was all a couple of years ago, anyways!"