all-american :: jotaro x reader

chapter 11 :: all-american favors

Lunch at school was indifferent yet again - the rose colored curtains blew in the crisp fall breeze, and a gnat flew in the classroom. The buzz of everyone talking amongst themselves was almost as loud as the score on my recent test bothering my subconscious.

I mean, I don't even know what I had gotten yet. But something tells me that studying in public places with my rusty literary skills never pays off, because I have gut feeling it wasn't a good score.

In fact, it distracted me so much I had forgotten I bought the wrong type of mayonnaise.

I realized mid chew that sandwiches weren't supposed to be sweet, my chewing growing slower as my tongue slowly realized that mayo, was in fact, salty.

I swallowed anyway, but shoved my sandwich back in its bag, unlike my fellow peers' bento boxes, and lean back into my seat to stare at the ceiling.

Yesterday comes back to me, and for some reason, I can't think of Jotaro being a regular at grandpa's shop.

I could tell - whenever grandad sees someone often, he uses that voice, and on top of that, granddad hates crumpled money. But from my grandpa's expression that night, I guess that's all Jotaro pays in.

I laugh to myself, imagining him coming in and asking for a bunch of the chocolates my grandma makes, and then paying in crumpled banknotes and leaving. What a sweet boy.

I cross my arms, and think of his mom. I hope he's nice to her, at least, even if he's a bit moody sometimes. But then I wonder, what about his dad? I've never seen him in person-

"EXCUSE ME!"

I look over, irritated someone just snapped me out of my little world, but my face softens when I see a girl, hands on the hem of her skirt like she's ashamed. She blushes and looks down, and I sit straight again. "What's up?" I ask, peering into her shaky eyes. She stutters for a second.

"Um...Um,  I'm sorry I snapped at you, I-I didn't know how else to get your att-attention," she just about whispers, barely at a volume I can hear her. I smile. "Don't worry about it!"

She suddenly remembers what she was here for and scrambles to pull a letter out from behind her back. It's pink and sparkly, and decorated with the fake plastic jewels. There's something written on the front in glitter pen. I'm compelled to ask if this gaudy little letter is for me, but I'll wait for her to spoil the surprise first.

She sees me eyeing the letter and stutters yet again before composing herself, and I feel even worse seeing how nervous she is.

"Can you deliver this to-" she says a name. I can't hear whose, her volume fades near the end of the sentence and her voice cracks.

"Who?" I ask again.

"Can you deliver this...to...Jo...Jotaro?"

She eyes are watering and her cheeks are red, and she verges tears as her shaky hand placed the letter on my desk.

I look at it funny again, and she gasps. "I, I mean, I see you too together a lot and-And I'm too shy to do it myself, and I-I know if you're together or not and..." her voice cracks as tears roll down her cheeks, and the poor girl has nearly surpassed tomato red and has entered the type of red they use in lipsticks.

I stand up, laughing, and hug her. I'm about a foot or more taller than her, and she gasps when she realizes the American-Japanese height difference, but collapses into a hiccuping, sobbing mess right on my chest. I muster the warmest customer service worthy smile I can and wrap my arms around her. "Aw, don't cry! I'll make sure he gets it, 'kay?"