Sunday turned into Monday, and I got up earlier than usual. It was less of a mad rush and more of a slow cruise. I walked out the door so early that Marge was in the distance and I was the one waiting for her.

“What took so long?” I jokingly demanded as she approached the porch. “What are you doing up so early?” She countered. “Why aren’t we walking?” Jack asked, and we laughed as I got up from the bench and joined them. Then we started walking and talking.

“Today’s when we tell our pen pals who we are!” Marge squealed. I started feeling sick with worry about it, and I guess my face showed it too. “You okay?” Jack asked, seeming genuinely concerned. I stiffly nodded.

“You look like you’re about to puke.” Marge added. “I feel like it too,” I replied. “Well if that’s true, watch the new shoes.” Jack joked. I attempted a chuckle, but it sounded more like a robot.

We arrived at the school, and Jack strutted over to his group, going full cool-popular guy mode. “Dude, why have you been hanging out with that dweeb?” One of the guys asked him. He ignored it, but I could tell he heard it by how he tensed up. Still, I thought he’d at least attempt to stand up for me. But I guess not. My heart dipped slightly.

“Jack didn’t stop talking about you last night,” Marge said casually. I blinked and looked over to her, then realized I was staring at Jack across the hall.

“Huh? What did he say?” I replied as I dug in our locker, pretending not to care too much. Marge leaned against the lockers next to us. “He said he had a great time.” She said with a smile.

“Is that all?” I said, feeling a little disappointed. “Did you want there to be more?” She asked with a wink and knowing smile. I turned my attention back to the locker as I realized what I was implying, hoping my cheeks weren’t turning pink.

“No, I-I just thought he’d say more is all.” I stammered, hoping I was convincing. “Mm-hmm.” Marge hummed sarcastically. “I was hoping you, Lizzie Smith, my best friend in the entire world, could tell me what happened.” Marge emphasized my name and the best friend comment.

“I see what you’re doing; That’s some serious guilt.” I said, letting her get her books out of the locker. She looked hopeful.

“It’s working.” I finished with a sigh. She smirked. “I knew it would! Let’s go outside,” she slammed the locker closed and led me out front to a table. Then I told her everything.

How he led me to the tiki bar, how our voices were only a whisper as kids screamed on the other side of the palm leaf, and our fourth almost-kiss. She listened intently and smiled excitedly at the romantic stuff I told her.

When I finished, she started talking. “Wow, Liz. I’ not just saying this because you two are adorable, which you are, but he’s never been this crazy about any girl! And we both know there’s been a lot of them,” she said the last part with an eye roll, and I nodded.

“I don’t know what to do,” I sighed and my brow knit together in sadness and confusion. “Tell him how you feel!” She shouted obviously. I looked around and shushed her. “Of course you’d say that,” I rolled my eyes. She smiled.

“Well if you’re not going to do it, I have no idea. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels, and I think he’s waiting for you to show that you feel the same way.” She said, and I scowled. Not because I was mad or too stubborn, (which I was) but because I knew she was right.

“Couldn’t you just tell him?” I whined. She shook her head. “I am not getting in the middle of this.” She stated firmly. I sighed and gave her puppy eyes, but even that didn’t work.

I played with my jacket zipper, mentally debating what to do. “Maybe I’ll wait a little longer,” I decided. She sighed. “Fine. But he won’t be waiting forever. As much as I love my brother, he has the patience of a two-year-old,” she shook her head with a smile, and I burst out laughing. It was true, and we both knew it.

The bell rang, and we scurried to class. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Jack, and what I should do. Does he like me? Do I... do I like him? I think Marge is rooting for us, so she’s the least of my worries. A loud hello (to wake a few kids up) from the teacher tore me away from my thoughts.

“Hello class! Today the first half of you will be telling your pen pal who you are!! So get out your piece of paper, but sign your name at the end.” Mrs. Lasagna instructed.

My stomach flipped, and in the course of the day I somehow forgot that I would be writing my name to Anonymous #2. I shakily got out a pencil and paper and began to write.

Hey Anonymous #2,

So this will be hard, but here I go. I’ve been using what you’ve shared about yourself to piece you together, but I still have no clue. Maybe you’ve known it was me the entire time, or maybe you’ll be horrified.

But know that I’ve had a great few weeks talking to you. It’s a shame to stop and pretend this never happened. Maybe we could continue just for fun, or is that too hard now that we’ll know each other?

I’ve had a few theories about your identity, but every single one has been proven wrong. I’ll admit that I’m terrified for you to tell me in person, but maybe I’m overreacting. Here’s the part where you don’t freak out,

-Lizzie Smith

Mrs. Lasagna cleared her throat. “The other person will get the note tomorrow and then have the rest of the week to reveal themselves. You can do it in a letter, second-half students, but I’d like you to be original!” She encouraged brightly.

The class nodded. I turned in the letter as the bell rang, and I stood outside the room, leaning on the wall by the door. Marge came out, taking a deep breathe. “That was hard,” she admitted.

I nodded sympathetically. “But now it’s over, and the other person will have to do the same thing but face-to-face.” I reminded. She gasped. “That’s right!” She exclaimed. Jack came around the corner.

“So are we ready to go?” He asked. We nodded and I pushed the door open before we started our sidewalk stride, arms linked. “So how’d it go writing the last letter?” Jack asked. “Scary,” I blurted immediately. He creased an eyebrow. “Scary?” He questioned.

Marge and I nodded. “We have no idea how the other person feels.” She explained. He nodded in understanding. “I guess it is kind of scary,” he agreed.

We chatted a little more about theories of who our pen pals are before arriving at the fire station. When Jack mentioned a few girl classmate’s names, I felt a weird pang. Like I had eaten something sour and wanted to make a face but didn’t.

“You can’t go!” Marge whined as we approached the station. “You’re right, I can’t. Not in a time of crisis,” I joked as I shot a text to my dad. He texted back saying it was fine a few minutes later.

“Race you!” Jack shouted as he bolted to their house. I was right behind him, and passed him right before he got to the porch. I was still running full force but not getting anywhere. I realized Jack had attached his hands around my waist and was holding me back, and let go before running onto the porch.

“Hey! That was totally unfair,” I protested. He smiled. “Well I could have let you win...” he trailed off with sarcasm in his voice. “Let me win? You know I would have won fair and square, Mr. Cheater,” I argued playfully as I collapsed onto the loveseat chair on their porch. He sat next to me.

“All right, sorry. How can I make it up to you?” He asked, pretending to beg. I gently punched his shoulder. “Brat,” I muttered, and he pretended to act insulted. “But now that you mentioned it, got any sherbet ice cream?” I asked. He laughed as he got up and inserted the key into the door’s lock.

An out-of-breathe Marge stepped onto the porch. “Wow, that was quite a run,” she breathed. I chuckled, and Jack thrust open the door. I immediately fetched the sherbet out of the freezer, as well as a glass bowl, cherries, a spoon, and whipped cream.

I was at their house so often that I could practically navigate their entire kitchen and find exactly what I needed. “Wow, you were serious about that sundae,” Jack joked as he stood across from me at the kitchen island.

I nodded and turned my back to grab the sprinkles, and when I turned back, Jack had a spoon and was scooping some ice cream out. “Hey!” I cried with a laugh as he looked guilty and shoved the spoon with ice cream into his mouth.

“That’s all you get, young man” I strictly teased as I scooped ice cream into the bowl and added my selected toppings. Then we finished homework in about a half hour and settled into another movie.

“Spider Man!” Jack shouted excitedly, throwing his fists in the air like a little kid. I laughed, then thought back to the letters. Spider Man? Like the comic?!?! I realized, remembering letter four.

It’s just a coincidence. Millions of people like comics and Spider Man, I reassured myself. I didn’t know why I didn’t want the pen pal to be Jack, and why I was trying so hard to find reasons as to why he wasn’t. It just seemed like something impossible, especially knowing how well the pen pal and I connect in the letters.

We caved in and watched Spider Man, and it was actually pretty action-packed and entertaining. When it ended I collected my things and said bye to a pouting Marge. “I’ll walk you out,” Jack insisted. Then that turned into walking me home.

“I call a rematch!” I screamed as I took off for the fire station. I was in full concentration and didn’t hear him come up behind me and pick me up off the ground by the waist again. I squealed as he gently set me back down and sprinted for my porch right in front of us, tagging the door with his hand.

“I win again!” He shouted as he took a seat on my porch swing. I collapsed next to him, and rested on the swing’s cushioned back. “Not fair,” I breathed, out-of-breathe. I hadn’t realized our hands were resting inches apart until he gently took hold of mine.

I scooted over a little and rested my head on his shoulder as we gently swung. A few minutes later the front door swung open and I jumped back to where I was sitting before our hands met. “Lizzie, there you are. Hello Jack,” my dad nodded to him. “Thank you for bringing her home safe.”

He jumped to his feet. “No problem, sir.” He replied before turning towards me. His teasing smile appeared and he winked as he said a playful bye to me. Then he nodded to my dad and stepped off the porch.

I guess I was staring at him, because my dad said, “Nice boy. I have no problem with him.” Then he turned and went inside, making me follow him. “What? What do you mean?” I insisted.

“Well, you were staring after him for an awfully long time. And you look so much happier with him and Marge.” He pointed out. It was true, I did enjoy spending time with them. But what was my dad saying?

Then I realized. He meant that if I wanted to go out with him, he would be okay with that. “Oh, no Dad. It’s not like that. We’re friends, and that’s it,” I stated. He shrugged and casually went back to his newspaper.

But I replayed that comment as I walked up the stairs to my room, and something about that comment made me sad. “We’re friends and that’s it...”

...Is that it?

*Quick Author’s Note (Q.A.N.)*

Hey guys! So I wrote this chapter but then redid it because I wasn’t in love with how it was. But I fixed it to my liking and hopefully you feel the same way!

Remember to comment your opinions, (BTW I love all the ship names!!) heart for more, and, as always, stay awesome!! ;-)