You GUYS Cinnabara added this book to his reading list I think life is complete now
"Hey, bitch!" you yelled as you walked into Richie's house, dropping your backpack on the floor. You knew his parents weren't home, and he had skipped school for the day purely because he didn't feel like going. You checked the living room to see if he was sitting in there, before going up to his bedroom, where he was laying on his bed and tossing a tennis ball at the ceiling.
"Gee, you look like a prisoner," you comment, causing Richie to look at you, and the tennis ball to hit him on the head.
"What the fuck (y/n) you could've given me a little warning," he grumbled before turning over on his stomach.
"Did you not hear me call you a bitch as soon as I walked through the door?"you questioned, plopping down onto his desk chair.
"No, I had the door closed so assholes like you couldn't come in. Guess it didn't work,"he retorted, and you rolled your eyes.
"Whatever. How was your day as a lonely prisoner?" you asked, spinning around in his chair until you got dizzy.
"Boring. You should've stayed home with me but no, you're too much of a goody two shoes," Richie sat up, tossing the tennis ball into the corner of his room in favor of watching you spin around in his chair.
"I have to say, school wasn't much fun without you there either. Didn't miss the constant insults, though," you teased, getting up to walk around his room, because you're restless. You stop in front of his open closet door, snorting at the sheer amount of lame Hawaiian shirts he has.
"What's so funny?" he asks, trying to see around you to look at what you're laughing at.
"Richie, who needs this many Hawaiian shirts?" you asked, now full on giggling. You thumbed through each shirt, before coming across a particularly tacky, bright one, that you hadn't seen him wear in a while. You took it off the hanger, shrugging it on over the white t-shirt you were wearing. You turn around, jokingly modeling the shirt for him.
And all Richie can think, is shit. You looked so hot to him, wearing his shirt, all he could do is stare open mouthed at you.
"What? Does it look that terrible?" you asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. Instead of answering, Richie got up off the bed, and walked towards you, until he was right in front of you.
"Richie-" you started, but he cut you off by putting his hands on your lips, gently pressing you against the wall behind you. Your eyes fluttered close, butterflies teeming in your stomach. Richie connected his lips to yours, the cool glass of his glasses lenses chilling your cheeks. When he pulled away, both of you were grinning.
"I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself. You should wear my shirts more often."
