Do Not Fucking Touch Me // Reddie

Twenty Nine

(Richie's POV)

After lunch, I ran out the doors of the cafeteria and down the hall. Eddie was there beside me, and even though I wanted to let him know what I was doing, I wanted to surprise him. I told him I had to go home and sped off on my bike. Immediately afterwards, I felt bad. I shouldn't keep secrets from him, even if they are in his advantage. 

It was really cold. I should have worn a heavier jacket, but I didn't want to look fat. Even the big sweatshirt I'd chosen that morning felt like it enlarged every body part of mine, especially my gut. Riding my bike was particularly difficult that day. My knees ached with every pedal forward. My arms were stiff and tired. My head ached. I was getting very skinny, but it still wasn't enough. 

Even though I hadn't explicitly asked Eddie to the dance, it was known that we would be going together. Everyone knew we were dating, but that wasn't enough for me. I wanted to make a grand gesture. I decided that with the help of Stan and Ben, I would bring him roses and appear in a tux at his uncle's house. I had to rush home to meet them. We couldn't tell Eddie. It needed to be a surprise, especially because the look on his face whenever I did something sweet for him was irreplaceable. I loved it so much. His eyes lit up and his smile grew bigger and bigger. 

Stan had a suit I could borrow, and although I didn't know why he had one in the first place. Maybe he had worn it to his bar mitzvah. Either way, I was glad he did because the fanciest thing that I owned was a button down red top and khakis. I was sure that wouldn't do the trick to impress my little Eddie, so I had to go on a grander scale. 

The roses would be provided by Ben, who's mom owned the floral shop in town. She had just started the business, and with my help, and the cash I stole from my mom's purse, she would be off to a splendid start. I not only got a bouquet of roses to hand my loving boyfriend, but also tons to pick off the petals from and scatter down the hall to his room, where I would be waiting. I had run the plan by his uncle already, who would stall Eddie until I got there, supposing the bus let him off before I could reach the house by biking. 

The plan was going perfectly, until I turned the corner to my street. Standing by my mailbox with a letter in hand was none other than Greta, the bitch who called my Eddie a loser and tried to ruin my bike. I approached on the bike faster and threw it aside when I reached my house. Stan was already inside with the tux, talking to my mom. I could tell because I saw them through the window as I stood outside in the cold.

Greta popped her bubblegum. "Hi, Richie," she said. 

"What do you want?" I sneered at the bitch.

She quickly handed me the letter and stood there as I read it.

Richie,

I'm sorry I was so mean to you.

I like you.

Go to the dance with me?

-Greta 

I laughed. I looked up at her and continued to laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"What's so funny?" I mocked her talking.

She rolled her eyes and chewed her gum loudly. She leaned in to kiss me and forcefully pushed her lips against mine. I shoved her off after a second.

"What the fuck," I said.

"I wasn't kidding, Richie."

I laughed some more. "You clearly must be, because you not only know I'm dating the most perfect boy in the entire world and that I'm gay, but you also know that you put said boy and I through hell! So kindly, please go suck a dick. Just not mine."

I tore her note apart and threw it behind me and walked past her up the steps to my door. The bitch was wasting my time, and my energy. I had better things to do. In fact, Eddie would be getting home soon. I needed to get into this tux and bike over to his house, and fast. 

Stan noticed me walk in the door. "What was that all about?" he asked, seeing Greta walk away angry, with the wet pieces of paper in her fist. 

I rolled my eyes. "I don't want to talk about it. She's psycho."

Stan handed me a folded pile of pants and a blazer. It looked so nice. 

My mom helped me fit into it after I'd went to the bathroom and did my best to put it on. I was no expert, that was for sure. Stan and I were about the same size, but I looked odd wearing it. He looked fine, he had the posture, the whole classy aspect that I lacked. Could I even pull this fiasco off?