We Do Not Talk About Eighth Grade

(6): like asian ansel elgort

It starts with one white rose sitting atop the pile of books in my locker—my newly, very organized locker.

I know it's not from Austin because: A. he knows I much prefer boxes of chocolates than flowers; B. Austin's not a sweet, romantic, dropping random gifts just to be cute kind of boyfriend—he prefers committing idiotic acts in the name of "love"; and C. even if he's to suddenly become romantic and wants to randomly give me flowers, he knows my top choice is no longer white roses ever since the day he took me hiking as a "date" and I found a beautiful vast bed of wildflowers—since then, the only bouquet of flowers I've ever received were always filled with different types of wildflowers he handpicked all by himself.

Oh, and plus point D: the note next to the rose is a dead giveaway.

"Interesting."

With a hand over my chest, I gasp in surprise and turn around to find my boyfriend peeking curiously into my locker. "Dammit, Austin. Don't scare me like that," I wheeze, silently slipping the small note into my binder.

He merely shrugs and reach over my shoulder to pick up the rose. "So your secret admirer finally made his move, hm?" he asks with a smirk, making a show of "inhaling the scent of the rose" before turning his nose up and sneezes loudly, his head shaking as he does.

"Don't be an ass." I snatch the rose from his hand and carefully put it back inside my locker before taking my binder and slamming the locker door shut. Austin sneezes the second time and I chuckle. "Poor baby."

"I gink I'm agually agergic do dose," he mutters while rubbing his nose before throwing an arm over my shoulder. I pretend to be annoyed at the weight of his arm but lean into him anyway. "So. Are you gonna tell me who the unlucky guy is?"

I make a face. "Unlucky? Am I that repulsive that having a crush on me is such an unlucky fortune?"

"God, babe, if falling for you is considered unlucky, then I have all the worst luck in history," he says. "I meant unlucky enough to want to steal you away from me. He'd have to step over my dead body to do that."

"Cut the dramatics, babe," I sigh. "Nobody's stealing anybody from anybody."

"You sure about that, Audrey? 'Cause I gotta get my game stepped up just in case."

"Ugh, shut up. Are you actually jealous?" I ask, still pretending to be annoyed, but I'm grinning a little bit. "The Austin Reeves is jealous!"

"Can't blame me for getting jealous," he mutters.

"It's just a rose, Austin. I put up with half of the female population in this school batting their eyelashes at you every time you walk by, the other half basically waving their panties at you during your games, and I never complain."

He scoffs. "That is not the same thing."

"Hell it's not—it's even worse!"

"Whatever." He pouts. "At least make sure you have the decency to break up with me first and not running away with him in secret."

I laugh at him. "You're such an idiot."

"I'm serious," he says before leaning down to press his lips on my forehead. Then his lips trail down lower, resting on my left cheek just close enough to my ear. "Are you gonna tell me who's the supposed secret admirer is?"

"He's called a secret admirer for a reason," I whisper right back.

"Oh, come on," he says, rolling his eyes at me. "I'm gonna find out who it is. He's been causing me enough headaches this past two weeks. Literally."