Light -Marcel Fanfiction-

Chapter Five

(Chapter Four if you can't find it- go to the side under the cover where it says external link,- and click that :D)

I've scared him. He's afraid of me. Good. I don't blame him.

I don't actually go and sit beside him. I just wanted to intimidate him. It worked. I mentally laugh at my tactic. Scare him into bed? I sound a bit pathetic. Nah, I'm a fucking genius.

"Why?" His question surprises me.

"Why do I like you?"

"Yes."

"You're cute, and awkward, and you're pretty hot under that nerd stuff, really. You're so innocent, it's adorable," I explain.

"Oh."

"Do you like me, Marcel?" I ask, leaning over the table and propping my head up with my hand. "Honestly."

"I-I... I'm not sure," he admits.

"Do you think I could make you like me?"

"H-how would you do-"

"May I take your orders?" a blonde girl asks.

"Cheese pizza. Plain, two slices," I say casually. I'm not one for Italian. She looks disappointed when she scribble it down. Bitch.

"Chicken Alfredo, please, with bruschetta, please, and do you think I could please get some more tea?"

"Sure thing," she smiles and scribbles it down before taking his glass and leaving.

"Did you seriously just say please three times?" I giggle. Marcel blushes.

"I'm just trying to be polite," he says.

"Whatever," I shake my head. Grace texts me, but I don't bother to check my phone.

"Aren't you gonna check that?"

"No, it's just Grace, probably pestering me more about not going to my prom," I smile.

"I didn't go either," Marcel says.

"Really," I say, intrigued. "Why not?"

"I was too afraid to ask anybody, and nobody would have said yes anyways," he scowls at the table.

"Why do you think that?"

"I dunno, I'm a nerdy loser, just the geek everybody picks on and steals homework from," he admits, blushing.

"I would have gone with you," I tell him.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I like you," I say again.

"Do you? Honestly?"

"Yes, Marcel, I do," I smile. "But I would like you more if you let me give you a makeover."

"No."

"Please! Just for one night! It doesn't have to be permanent," I say, batting my eyelashes at him.

"No."

"Please, please please? If you let me, I'll never text you or call you or visit your house again. You don't ever have to see me again." I cross my fingers under the table. He hesitates.

"Now, don't make me feel bad," he sighs. "Why do you want to give me a makeover?"

"Because you're hot, I was drunk when I have you that temporary mix up with the style."

"I-I..."

"Let me put effort into it this time."

"Um... I-I don't know," he says.