Vanilla Girl

N e a p o l i t a n

"WHAT THE HELL are you planing on doing Justin?" I whisper-hiss as I jog to catch up with his long purposeful strides.

The determination in his emerald-green eyes unsettles me. I've only seen Justin with that expression when---

"This better not be a prank golden boy." I mutter, rather pissed with him.

Who would steal a professor's key just so that he could get out of class and play a prank? 

Justin would.

Of course. 

He's got the mental maturity of a grape.

Justin snorts at my choice of words, "Golden boy?" He swings his gaze to mine and gives me a smug smile, "I knew you thought I was hot."

Before I can come up with a sarcastic retort he stops at a locker. Number 27. I know exactly who's the owner of that locker. But I can't think any reason why he'd like to play a prank to this specific person. Everyone knows there's more goodness in her than Mother Teresa. 

"What are you doing Justin!?" I hiss, watching him dig into his back pocket.

"Shh...calm down." He replies in that unconcerned tone of his. "You're gonna give us away and I'm not on the mood to spend an hour on detention. Are you?"

"Of course not!" I say, making an obvious effort to keep calm. "It was you who brought me here. Remember?"

His body turns towards me and he lets out a tired huff, "I don't have the memory of a gold-fish Adie. I remember." He taps my nose with a wrinkled paper he's now holding in his hand. "You should be gratified I'll let you witness this."

I roll my eyes. Yeah, sure. "If I end up in detention you'll buy me a bag of pop-tarts." I threaten.

He shakes his blonde head and looks up the ceiling, "Why? What did I ever do to be punished with her friendship. What!?" He fake-sobs.

I jab a finger to his side.

"Oww!"

"Shut it."

Justin clutches his ribs in exaggeration and my gaze wanders to the paper in his hand, "So, what's that?"

"A letter." He replies, holding it in front of my face.

"No shit, Sherlock." I retort.

Does he think I'm blind?

"What are you planning to do with it? Did you suddenly turn into the school mail carrier or something? Are you like... Mike Wasausky?"

He snorts. "Gods no. Heavens know what those letters may contain."

I tap my heel against the floor tired of his circling around the subject, "Why exactly are we in front of Lynn Owens locker? You're not seriously thinking on playing her a prank, are you?"

He clutches his heart in mock pain, "That hurt Adie. How can you think something like that of me?"

"I'm used to anything by now."

He lets out a soft chuckle that has me looking at him more closely. He does look handsome. This past few weeks he's spent more time with his appearance, his hair looks silky and his face brightens from time to time.

"I'm not trying to prank Lynn, on the contrary, I'm leaving her this letter--in her locker."

I nod absently, "Right. And what's the letter about?"

When I look up at him, his lips are pressed together in a tight line and he seems to be struggling with his words.

"Justin?" I prompt.

"I---I..." He scratches the back of his neck nervously. 

I rise a brow.

A sigh escapes his lips, "Shit. Ok. I'm writing her anonymous letters, but you better not tell anyone."

My jaw drops.

Oh, well.

Of all the things that could have come out of his mouth, that was the most unexpected.

"Are you serious?" I ask dumbfounded.

The slight blush that colors his cheeks tells me he is. 

"You Justin Cliffs are writing Lynn Owens love letters!?" I repeat incredulous.

Since when does Justin have a romantic side, pray tell?

"Stop it. It isn't such a deal." 

I crack at his discomfort, "Oh, it is."

"Why? It's no news girls love this kind of things." He shrugs.

I wrinkle my nose, "Maybe they did once, but it's been so overused that it turned boring. You know, like Neapolitan ice-cream." I say, "Personally, I'd ring the police office if I ever receive a stalker letter telling me he's been watching my every move. Only to keep listing down every single thing he likes about me without giving me any sort of clue that he's a decent normal person and not a bit cuckoo."

"I'm not cuckoo." He argues.

I press my lips together and rise my brows. Seriously?

"Whatever you say golden boy, but is sounds pretty stalkerish to me."

He waves a hand in the air, "You just say that because you are jealous."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to see the poor girl's terrified expression when she opens up your letter." I say. "Though I wouldn't know if her expression would be because of the creepy words you might have written or the amount of spelling and grammar errors there may be."

"Aww!" I yelp when he pinches my arm.

"Remind me to never take you out of class ever again." He mutters.

I rub my arm and wince at the sudden pain, "That hurt golden boy. Where's the romantic Justin? Maybe I'll like him more than this one."

"Har, har." 

My gaze diverts towards the empty hallway and I'm hit by the sudden realization that Mr Branco may still be waiting for the key. That is if he hasn't sent someone to look for us already. I seriously don't want a detention slip.

When I look up at Justin to hurry him up, he's looking down at the letter in his hand with a thoughtful expression.

"Do you think I should stop leaving letters in her locker?" He asks suddenly.

I study his profile for a moment, his hunched shoulders, his sad eyes. He looks like I've stolen his puppy.

I mull over my words before spilling them, "I think maybe you should give her the chance to write you back. Then you'll know if she's creeped out or slightly interested."

He considers my words for a moment before his face brightens, "You are a genius Adie, I knew I had to bring you along."

I watch as he produces a blue pen out of nowhere and adds a few lines at the bottom of his crumpled letter.

"Maybe you should consider not scrunching the letter in your pocket next time." I say.

He smiles at me, "That's just to clue her in on who I am. It wouldn't be Jason-like to give her a smooth perfumed card, would it?"

I raise a brow.

"Yeah, I don't think so."

******

A/N: Who knew...Justin's got a soft spot.

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