Mixtapes & Polaroids | Sam x Deena

25

"Heather! Heather Watkins!"

Simon was screaming at the top of his lungs, hands grasping his little black witch hat as he runs up the bleachers, tripping a few times as he wades through the row of people sitting just to get to the girl. His curls are a mess, swear beading off his skin and leaving streaks of green down the sides of his face.

He finally comes to a stop in front of Heather, heaving with a hand on his chest as he tries to get the words out of his throat. She's looking up at him like he had grown three heads, dread and utter confusion smeared on her face as Simon cringes in pain trying to calm his very erratic heart.

"You need to stall her!" Simon says to Heather, who was frozen in her seat holding a bottle of soda that Simon was pretty sure wasn't just soda.

"What are you talking about?" Heather asks, watching as Simon flips off everyone telling him to move out of the way since he was pretty much the only one left standing in that entire section.

"Sarah! Prescott! You need to stall her!" Simon explains with urgency, veins popping from his neck as he looks around to spot the double doors from the school swing open, and Sarah walk out with a look he knew meant trouble.

"Why don't you get one of your friends to do it?" She asks him, still unable to grasp why exactly a boy she had spoken to a total of like five times (three of them being just her turning him down for a date.) was suddenly in front of her asking her to stall Sarah.

"Obviously my friends are kind of busy right now!" Simon exclaims, motioning to the cheerleaders readying on the field.

"Then find someone else?" Heather asks sardonically, but Simon only slips his hand into hers and tugs her out of her seat.

They make it down the bleachers, the rampant sounds of cheers and blinding lights filling the atmosphere as the boy grabs her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes with desperation— and a little bit of fondness. Simon thinks Heather is really pretty and if so much wasn't at stake in that very moment he probably wouldn't be able to talk to her without giggling like a little girl.

"Heather, just listen to me. If you stall Sarah Prescott right now— I will never ever ask you out again. Ever. Unless of course you finally changed your mind and—"

"Okay, deal. Where is she?" Heather hands him her drink, looking around and over his shoulder as Simon spots the blonde approaching the bleachers.

"She's coming. Seven O'Clock. Or Two, for you. Just go!"

And with that, Heather takes off to do exactly as she was told. Truthfully, she wasn't so opposed to getting another shot at talking to Sarah so Heather puts on her best game face, and pretends she didn't see the blonde walking right towards her. She beams at Sarah, throwing out a greeting and a hug, and pulling her to the back towards the building despite Sarah's opposition.

"Heather, it's really not a good time right n—" Sarah tries to say, but Heather's got their arms locked and she's pulling out a pack of smokes, dead set on not taking no for an answer.

"For old time's sake! You owe me one, come on. It won't be long. You need to tell me if you got the job at Barker's Brewery." Heather tugs her along, and Sarah is just desperately looking over her shoulder trying to find Deena, but Simon had already beat her to it.

He's barreling through the crowd, spewing out rushed, half assed apologies for all the drinks he knocks over and people who cuss him out. When he reaches the top, right where the band was situated, Simon finds that Deena was on the other end of the isle he had just paved through.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Simon exclaims, but his voice is buried by the sound of cheering and instruments all while a very unaware Deena stood, eyes never leaving Sam who lands a perfect flip on the sidelines and searches the crowd just to smile at her.