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Chapter Twenty Four
"She gave me detention!" I exclaim, throwing my arms into the air. "Detention!"
Noah sighs and shakes his head, "I know, I got it too."
"All we did was skip class for, what? Like fifteen minutes?" I huff, tucking the stupid note into my pocket.
Noah and I left class to hang out in the hallway for no more than fifteen minutes, and Mrs. Hughes came bounding down the hall with two detention slips already written.
Noah glances down at me and steps in front of me with a dashing smile, "I think it was worth it, I got fifteen minutes with you."
My brows shoot up and my mouth stays half open in hopes of some sort of reply.
"And now we get another hour together in detention," he adds, walking again.
I smile at him, "Yeah at least I'm not alone in this."
"Now we just have to hope Hughes isn't our detention administrator," he shutters.
I stop walking, "She can do that?!"
He glances back over at me and chuckles, walking up close to me. "She can, sadly, but don't worry. I'll be there." He grins. The warning bell sounds, interrupting his kind gaze. "Alright, I guess I'll see you in detention, then."
He walks away after giving me a shining smile, and I come up on my locker and see Hayden loitering around with a familiar white envelope in his hands. I feel myself smiling as I get closer to him and his arrogant blue eyes and I snatch it from his boasting hands, as if showing off that he once again broke into my locker.
"Ever going to tell me how you get into my locker?" I ask.
He smirks and leans his shoulder against it, "What do you think?"
I snort and roll my eyes, "Shouldn't have even asked."
"I really just look inside to see if you have any secret drawings of me hanging around in there," he grins.
I scowl, "Isn't that getting a little old?"
"I don't think it will ever get old, Cupcake."
"Sometimes I really don't like you."
"And other times you fall asleep snuggled up to me."
I bite my tongue to avoid answering him and instead turn to my letter. And, as always, it drives annoyance away from me and puts pure bliss in its place.
Dear Beautiful,
I know you're special.
Your laugh is special. It drives doubt out the window and scares away fear. When I hear it, it's like my own little piece of sunshine that I keep stored away for the rainy days in my heart. The days I see you walking around with him.
Your smile is special. It is my only light to see through the darkness.
Your body is special. Your curves are like the gentle rolling hills that lead to my favorite place. Your long legs have me practically crawling on my knees, and you know just how to show them off.
Your beauty is special. You have no need for makeup to try and accentuate your facial features, they are already beautifully exposed for my eyes to admire.
Everything else about you is special, but there isn't enough paper in the world for me to write down every single thing I admire about you.
You're special, Beautiful.
Love,
Anonymous
"What does it say today?" Hayden asks.
"You really think I'm going to tell you?"
"Okay, then how about telling me what you and Noah were talking about that had you blushing?" He tries.
"I got detention."
He chuckles, "And that had you blushing?"
I don't respond and he pushes off of my locker with an easygoing smile. "I'll see you later, Cupcake."
---
With shuddering legs, I brave through my nerves and open the door to detention.
I'm met with instant chaos. Papers are flying across the room, joints are being smoked, and knives are digging into the wooden desks while fights break out all around the room.
Or at least that's what I was expecting.
Instead I'm met with silence and all eyes turn on me, and most glaze over in confusion. Why would Reagan Holt be in detention?
I scan the room slowly and my eyes dance over the usual detention dwellers, quickly skipping over Frankie who has a deadly tinge to his eye, and finally I spot Noah in the back of the room, waving me over.
I smile at him and shuffle over to him after handing the administrator my detention slip for her to sign off on.
"No talking. You talk, you get an extra hour in here," she seethes, and I nod vigorously.
Am I allowed to say yes ma'am?
I take a seat just behind Noah since the one next to him seemed way too sketch, and was directly next to Frankie.
A few minutes into my hour of hell, a note gets tossed onto my desk. I didn't see where it came from and I hesitantly reach out for it, opening it up.
Hey :) We may not be able to talk, but I can't take an hour of not communicating with you in some way.
I scrunch my brow and glance up, and I see Noah looking at me over his shoulder with a small wink.
Ah, the note is from him.
I smile sheepishly back at him, and for the next hour him and I converse the old-fashioned way.
After school, and after the god awful hour of detention (made much better with Noah), I meet Chloe at Sonic.
I tell her all about how Noah and I passed notes to one another during detention since we weren't allowed to talk. By the end of detention I know my face was completely red from blushing, and Noah's cheeks had to be sore from all of his dazzling smiles pointed towards me.
"I went over to Cole's house yesterday," Chloe says, sipping her slushie.
I nod, "Oh yeah? How did that go?"
"His dad remembered me. I don't know why I was so shocked, but the fact he instantly knew who I was really warmed my heart. Apparently Cole has been talking about me a lot lately."
I smile widely, "That's exciting!"
"Cole and I are really making up for the lost years. It's as if we never grew apart, everything is the same yet better," she sighs dreamily.
"I'm happy for you Chloe!"
She grins at me, but then her smile turns solemn. "Hey, how have your parents been lately?"
I sigh and place my head on my hands, "They're arguing, as always."
Chloe reaches across the table and places her hand on mine, offering a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Reagan."
I nod, "Me too."
She boasts some more about her relationship with Cole and then her and I go home, and when I get to my house I hear my parents arguing through the door. My heart drops as their screams escalate, and I wait for them to quiet down before walking inside.
"Pumpkin?" My dad calls from the kitchen.
"Yeah it's me dad," I shout back.
"Come on in, we have dinner prepared sweetheart," my mother says, walking towards the front door to greet me- completely oblivious that I heard their screaming match. "How was school?"
I grimace as I place my backpack down, "I got detention."
Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
"But I also got a letter, so the day turned out to be pretty good. Not to mention detention was with Noah." I say, smiling slightly as I take my shoes off.
She smiles knowingly and starts walking with me towards the kitchen. She winks at me, "We can talk about this later," she whispers as my dad comes into view.
I smile at her and nod, walking into my dad's awaiting arms. "Hey Pumpkin, have a good day?" He asks, kissing the top of my head as I pull away.
"Yeah, how was your day at the office?" I ask, sitting down at the table.
He goes into some story of his day and dishes out our food. Once we finish, half of my food going to Bruce since my dad burnt the burgers, I help clean up and head upstairs to my room, and after about ten minutes of homework my mom walks into my room.
"So about this boy," she says, sitting down on my bed.
I chuckle and swivel in my chair to face her. She is always so eager to hear about my love life, even though it's still non-existent yet completely existent at the same time.
"Is Noah the one who's been writing the letters?" She asks giddily.
I shake my head, "I don't think so. I don't know." I pause for a few moments and then stand up and sit on the bed next to my mom. "I'm feeling so conflicted over these letters, mom."
She frowns and puts her arm around my shoulders while I rest my head down. "Why, honey?"
"Do you remember Hayden?"
She nods, "Of course, you've been hanging out with him a lot lately."
I sigh deeply and decide to lay it all out there. I need some advice.
"Well I know I'm developing feelings for him."
"Oh?" She asks, sounding a little less shocked than I assumed.
"Yeah."
"Then does that mean he writes the letters?"
I sigh, "No, that's the problem. I have feelings for Hayden, who I've decided didn't write the letters, yet the love letters still make me feel as though I'm on cloud nine. They send me into pure bliss every time I read them. They make me feel so special."
She cocks her head. "Why did you decide Hayden didn't write them?"
"Because he's so cocky, if he was writing them he wouldn't be anonymous- he would come out and say it was him. And if he isn't writing them, then he doesn't like me either because he would be jealous that I receive them." I say all in one breath.
I've thought about it enough for it to become ritualistic in my mind.
"Ah, I see," she muses. "Have you checked the-"
"Handwriting? Of course I have, it doesn't match either Hayden or Noah, but the letters are written in such beautiful cursive I don't think that's my anonymous' real handwriting," I groan.
She frowns, "Well there goes my only advice..."
I give her a flat look that causes her to chuckle, and then I continue in my rant.
"Obviously with the love letters I know that whoever is writing them loves me already. There's no doubt of his feelings at all, but how am I supposed to know how Hayden feels? He's a known player that I have had the unfortunate fate of crushing on." I mutter.
"What about Noah?"
"Yet another problem. He's an amazing guy, and I think I have a crush on him too," I groan. "Him and I were flirting all through detention."
My mom just smiles knowingly and places a reassuring hand on my knee. "Let me ask you this: if some other guy showed up and said that he's the one who has been writing the letters, would you drop your friendship with Hayden to be with him? Would you drop your friendship with Noah?"
I look down at my hands and shake my head. "I don't know, mom."
Then she asks the question the other way around. "If the love letters stopped because you started dating Hayden or Noah, would you regret it? Would they be enough without the love letters?"
Another heavy sigh escapes me and I run my hands over my face.
"I wouldn't know what to do. The love letters have been so loyal to me, I'm always going to wonder who they're from and what it would be like to be with whomever is writing them."
Mom simply kisses my head, "Don't worry Reagan, it will all work out in the end."
Even with her reassurance, I can't help but wonder: what if it doesn't?
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