“And I’m in my very own Acappella group— The Treblemakers. Get it? Treble? Like- like troublermakers, but music-wise. Y’know? It’s a play on words.” He explained from across the table at Pluckers Wing Bar. He chomped messily on some fries, staring you down when he began slurping from his practically empty glass.

“And, well, anyways, all those other campus groups suck anyways. We’re the best group. ‘Course, it’s ‘cause I’m the leader, like, they definitely wouldn’t be this good without me.” He boasted, his slight muscles flexing in the sunlight from the windows.

He looked at you expectantly, as if he was waiting for you to agree and make a good point on how he was the best singer to walk planet earth since Michael Jackson.

After he realized you weren’t, he huffed, but continued on.

“Anyways, I’m kind of a total catch, let’s be honest.” He grinned, resting his elbows on the table and placing his chin on his palm. He sipped on his water, his eyes scanning you up and down.

“Don’tcha think?”