Sherry's eyes fluttered half-closed. Her voice came out breathy, barely above a whisper. "This is crazy… we're in a school library…"
"Exactly." He let his fingers drift lower, tracing the hem of her skirt, teasing the smooth skin of her thigh. "No one's here. No one would know if I pushed you against these shelves right now and buried my fingers inside you until you're biting your lip to keep from moaning my name."
She exhaled shakily, her body leaning fully into him now. One of her hands came up to grip his shirt, not pushing him away, but holding on. Her hips shifted forward, seeking contact. "Mark… shit…"
He slid his hand higher under her skirt, fingertips brushing the edge of her panties. They were already damp. He pressed lightly against her through the thin fabric, feeling her clit twitch under his touch.
"You're dripping," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "All that tough talk, and your pussy is begging for me."
Sherry whimpered softly, forehead dropping against his shoulder as her hips rocked once against his hand. "Please…"
That single word. Desperate and needy was the trigger.
[Stop.]
The notification flashed in Mark's vision, bright and final.
He pulled his hand back smoothly, took one step away, and gave her a casual smile like nothing had happened.
"Gotta go," he said, voice perfectly normal. "Henry's waiting for me."
Sherry blinked, dazed and flushed, still leaning against the shelf for support. Her skirt was slightly rumpled, lips a bit swollen from biting them, eyes wide with disbelief and frustration.
"No fucking way," she breathed, voice cracking. "You can't just—"
But Mark was already turning toward the door, calm and unhurried.
"See you around, Sherry."
He left her standing there in the empty library, aching, wet, and completely unsatisfied, the heavy door clicking shut behind him with quiet finality.
[FRONTIER COMPLETE]
The notification appeared and dissolved before Mark could decide how he felt about it. The system called it complete. It had ordered and he had executed.
But maybe that was the point. Maybe the old Mark, the one whose body he was borrowing, the one who'd apparently spent freshman year getting friend-zoned by girls like Sherry Braithwaite and wearing glasses and being exactly himself, maybe he deserved to feel what he'd just done.
Consider it paid back, kid, Mark thought. This was all for you.
He was outside and Henry was right where he'd left him, exactly as promised, phone still out, having apparently not moved a single inch.
"Bruh." Henry looked up with the expression of a man who had been waiting slightly longer than he found reasonable. "Was actually about to come look for you."
"Didn't need to." Mark fell into step beside him. "What's next."
"We going home."
"Uhm??"
"There's our ride." Henry pointed at the yellow school buses lined up like a fleet of shame.
Mark stared in horror. "Tell me you're kidding."
Henry just smiled, clearly enjoying his friend's discomfort. Seniors riding the bus with freshmen and sophomores. Hugo had never experienced this level of social hierarchy failure, even in his poorest days. Even when he'd been scraping by, he'd at least had a beat-up car to maintain some dignity.
"Man just noticed, where are your glasses?" Henry asked as they climbed aboard. "Did they get broken in the fight?"
"Last time I'm answering this, bro. I don't need glasses anymore." Mark's voice came out sharper than he intended, frustration bleeding through. "And this bus situation? It has to stop. Tomorrow, I'm finding another way."
He'd lived this low for exactly one day and he was already exhausted. He needed to climb at least two rungs up this social ladder. Tomorrow, no more school bus. That was non-negotiable.
They took seats by the window, middle of the bus where the seniors usually clustered. Behind them, sophomores were singing badly with some girl who clearly thought she was the next big thing. The noise was physically painful, bouncing off the metal walls.
At the front of the bus sat a blonde girl, completely absorbed in a book despite the chaos erupting around her. Something about her focus, her ability to tune everything out, caught Mark's attention. She had that rare quality of being genuinely present in her own world, unbothered by teenage social dynamics.
A notification appeared in his vision, floating over the girl's head like a quest marker in a video game.
"Open the notification, Mr. Lidorf," the system prompted. "New task available."
Mark double-tapped the air in front of him, hoping Henry wasn't watching him gesture at nothing like a crazy person.
[New Task Generated]
[TASK TWO: Acquire Becky Moonwell's phone number.]
[Reward: $100,000] [Optional Bonus: +$1,000 Player free to decline or accept]
[Time Limit: 24 Hours]
Mark blinked. A hundred grand for a phone number. Mark stared at the notification floating in his vision, processing the implications. Bonuses weren't deposited directly. That meant human interaction, negotiation, leverage. The old-fashioned way.
He understood that pattern. Every event connected to the next, building toward something bigger. Bonuses weren't magic or luck. It was cause and effect played at a level most people couldn't perceive. A chain of events that only made sense when you could see the whole board.
He double-tapped to close the notification and glanced back at the blonde girl reading at the front of the bus. Their eyes met for a brief moment. She smiled, probably amused at the weird senior with stitches on his face tapping the air like an idiot.
"Bro," Mark whispered to Henry, who was scrolling through his phone. "Who's that girl reading up front?"
He expected her to be Becky Moonwell. Time to start working.