Public Knowledge (Sweet Pea x Reader)

The Let Down

"Guess who got an A-," Sweet Pea yelled in triumph kicking in the classroom door.

You whipped your head around to look at him, attempting to plaster on a smile even as your chest constricted and you tried to convince yourself to push down everything you were feeling and just. be. happy. After all, this was far from the meanest thing anyone'd done to you.

His face fell. Obviously your attempt at a cheery smile had failed. Probably miserably.

"What's up?" he asked, moving slower and with significantly less pep.

"Nothing," you rolled your eyes, looking away from him.

"You didn't get a C again did you?" he asked, sitting down backward on the chair in front of yours. You snorted shaking your head.

"Seriously, Sweet Pea, it's nothing. It's dumb." You might have gotten him to let it go if your voice hadn't cracked.

"It was your date, wasn't it?" he asked, his voice tight.

"What date?" you chuckled humorlessly. Sweet Pea furrowed his brow, and you shook your head trying to get control over yourself. "He...he never showed."

"What an asshole–"

You held up a hand stopping him. "I thought maybe–" your voice got away from you, and it took a second for you to bring it back. "Maybe he forgot the time. Or maybe something came up and he couldn't text because it was serious."

Sweet Pea scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"I waited for forty-five minutes, and then I left, and I figured I'd see him in school today and we could sort it out. But then I was scrolling on Instagram, and..."

You held your phone out showing him the picture you had found on Ginger Lopez' Instagram.

It took him a second for the picture of the holding hands and tangled legs and the caption to sink in.

"That son-of-a-bitch," Sweet Pea stood up so quickly, his chair wobbled. "I'll kick his ass," he started for the door.

"Sweet Pea, stop, school's over, he's probably at practice with the rest of the Bulldogs."

"Great, there'll be an audience."

"Hey! Wait!" you called out, grabbing his arm. "Please, don't. It'll make me seem pathetic, and they'll just suspend you for starting it, and then people will know we talk, and I know you don't want that." You stopped, a new jolt of pain running through you. "It's not worth it." A tear escaped and you reached up to wipe it away with the sleeve.

"He's an idiot," Sweet Pea spat, turning back around to face you.

"I'm the idiot," you sniffed, and then more tears were coming. "I really thought he was interested." You took a step forward, moving as if to hug him before you let your hands fall to your sides realizing that just because Sweet Pea was happy to use you as an excuse to fight the Bulldogs didn't mean you were friends. Sure he said he liked you. But that didn't mean anything. You liked plenty of people, but you didn't want to hug all of them. You were pretty sure a good number of kids in this school liked you.

And yet here you were.

Before you could follow this train of thought any further, two arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. You shook, completely letting go of all reserve as you tucked yourself under his chin, your ear resting against his chest and listening to the steady beats of his heart. It was a fast rhythm but easy to follow and comforting in its predictability. You felt yourself melt further into him, breathing a little easier, even as the tears continued. "I didn't even like him that much," you whispered into his shirt. "It was just nice to be liked. To be able to go out to Pop's with someone who didn't mind being seen with me."

Sweet Pea didn't say anything. Instead, he held you a little tighter and rested his head on yours as you continued to cry.