A/N: Special thanks to everyone who commented on the first chapter. I was completely terrified to even post this story in the first place, but look - a second chapter! Also, the third part should be the final part.
The Second Time (2/3)
Adam twirled the letter in hands, tossing it into the air between breaths.
The red ribbon fluttered as it fell back down.
He smiled, tapping his fingertips on the flap of the envelope as he did.
Someone liked him! Someone liked him - not Drew, not Jake, not Eli. Him. Adam Torres. The VideoGame Kid. The 'Booyah' Kid. The notoriously unlucky in love, beanie expert. Him!
Despite telling himself not to get his hopes up, it would not be a stretch to consider him perched on cloud nine. The shambles of his last attempt at romance couldn't have been further from his mind...
–––
"What do you think you're doing?"
Immediately his mind went from red ribbons and secret admirers and (possibly) being the one someone liked to Eli's wrath went he found out he had yet to start painting the set for opening night. Which unfortunately, would be tomorrow night. Who were they kidding? They had hardly even touched the courtyard.
"Nothing! I'm not doing anything!" With a guilty expression, Adam stood quickly, slipping the envelope behind his back. His face burned with embarrassment. Tristan, who was reciting lines with Dave, just looked up with a bewildered expression. After shooting him an equally weird look, the freshman returned to rehearsal.
Apparently, Eli wasn't referring to him but rather the blonde who had just barged into the theater.
"What does it look like, Elijah?" A bright Becky Baker laughed. "I'm helping."
"No, you're... getting in the way!" Feigning ecstasy, he mimicked her girlish demeanor. The giggle didn't quite suit him. His mouth formed a serious frown, which creased his forehead. "Besides, I thought you quit. I thought you had reasons."
"Yes. Well, they're a little irrelevant now." Becky insisted, refusing to back down. "I'm a go-getter, Elijah. Nothing's changed that."
"If I wasn't clear the first time," Eli coaxed with fake pleasantries, bringing his palms together in a clap. Suddenly, his face darkened and he pointed a finger at the door. "Get out!"
"What's the harm?" Adam called.
"I smell a rat but...fine." Eli expelled a breath, letting his ego sink a bit for his best friend. Facing the blonde, however, he was not so kind. "Don't try anything! If I find so much as a leaf missing then-"
"There'll be hell to pay." Imogen chimed, as she passed between the two former co-writers on her way to a box of stage supplies. Just as Becky was about to chastise her for language, Adam snuck up from behind her and held out a paintbrush.
"Welcome to the team!" He announced, with implied 'Booyahs,' of course. Quickly, the girl snatched the brush out of his open hand and sauntered off to work on some other set piece on the other side of the room.
Adam sighed, "Is she still upset about lunch?"
"Hey, consider it a blessing," Eli reassured him, patting the other boy on the arm. "Trust me, you don't ever want to be involved with girls like her."
"Still..." Adam threw a glance in her direction, a wave of guilt phasing him. "I should probably apologize."
"Fine, you do that." Eli capitulated, letting out a tired breath, "But don't say I didn't warn you when she starts probing your brain to take back to the mother ship."
"Oh, you clearly know nothing about aliens." Again, that was Imogen, relaying between the set and the props box. Adam just raised at eyebrow at the passing statement. There were so many questions and so little time.
The director turned to find the actors on set were fooling around with swords from the second act, yet again. Exasperated, he brought his hands to his head, and furiously shouted. "Hey, guys! You can't do that!"
The hand props would have to wait, Adam decided, making his way to the set props, where the blonde was inevitably focusing all her steam into building Juliet's immaculate courtyard. Standing over her shoulder, he shoved his hands into pockets and opened his mouth.
"I'm sorry." He sighed, and when she just rolled her eyes at him, he sighed again. Was she really going to be this difficult? He scooted closer. "You were right about earlier. I mean, someone went out of their way just to make my day."
Temporarily taking her gaze off the prop, Becky turned to him, and simply muttered, "Thanks."
Then after a moment, Becky turned away, abruptly focusing all her attention on watching the paint dry rather than him. She sat there in silence for a good two, three minutes before she mouthed. "Wait, so they, um, made your day?"
"Yeah." Adam muttered absently, trying to find the reason why she was so intent on watching the paint. It just looked like paint to him. "It was, sweet." He thought out loud, which for some reason only made the girl red - he assumed he had made her angry again and corrected himself quickly, "Not at all juvenile."
Which only succeeded in making her even redder, and he assumed it was a lost cause if she was already so angry. She proceeded though, and he noticed she had to bite down her tongue. Again with the silence. What was he supposed to say in this situation?
"I guess, I'm just afraid it's some sort of prank or something-"
"It's not." Becky spat out perhaps too quickly, and when Adam met her with fading eyes, she added. "Um. Intuition."
More silence.
"So, you do know a lot about love letters, right?" Adam ventured, not recognizing the shiver that crept down her spine. "I guess that makes sense, you and Eli are so into writing and all. I was just wondering..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Why would someone go to all the trouble of writing it and stalking me just to send it anonymously?"
"Oh, I don't know if I'd call it stalking." Becky muttered to herself, seemingly hung over that fact. Which was...odd. "But sending it anonymously? I'd just assume they were...scared."
"So someone who wrote me Shakespeare and stalked me-"
"Not necessarily 'stalked'-"
"Is scared?" Adam asked, wondering how someone so gung ho could simultaneously be so shy.
A little redder, Becky raised her voice. "There are a lot of reasons someone would be scared! You're a great guy after all! And maybe that clashes with what they believe, or thought they believed, or wanted to believe..." Adam nodded, noticing how quickly she was spewing words at him. "And that's terrifying, um I assume."
The theater fell silent, and they returned to what they had been doing at lunch. Only this time, Adam was doing all the staring, still hung over the fact that a girl like Becky (uptight, perky, put-a-paper-bag-over-her-head-for-staring Becky,) considered him a 'great guy'. Was he missing something?
"Thanks," Adam said, grinning. The colour finally returned to her face.
"No problem. So, are you going to help paint the set or just stand there looking smug?" She returned, offering him a clean paintbrush. Coy as ever.
Adam took it without a second thought.
He crouched downed next to her, "If I haven't said it yet, welcome to Degrassi."
Needless to say, their conversations continued like this – her being coy, him being blunt. They discussed school then changing schools, moving and older brothers. All things which they had in common. It was interrupted only by painting and bouts of quiet yet comfortable silence, points at which they communicated only by glancing at each other. Though, Becky still found it habit to stare at him a little longer than he did at her.
"...and Luke ends up dropping all the cans for the soup drive down the gutter," Becky grinned, finishing up her story on the misadventures at some charity drive she had volunteered for only months ago. "It was a disaster."
Adam had already set down his brush, "Drew and I were actually volunteers at the food drive last year. It's actually a funny story, we actually fought over a-"
"And what do we have over here?" Imogen said, sneaking up from behind the backstage curtain. Honestly, if that girl was trying to give someone a heart attack...
Turning positively red again, Becky opened her mouth. Before she could protest however (or explode, whichever came first), Adam spoke first.
"Nothing, Imogen." He said rather bluntly, though Imogen just rolled her eyes. What exactly was she implying? He just shrugged.
"Right..." Imogen stated, resting her hands on her hips and suddenly cocking her her to the side. She did a hair flip and her pigtails swayed as she sauntered off to find more cans of paint. "It's going to be a busy day."
–––
"So, what do you think her angle is?" Eli asked suddenly, as the four prominent drama club members made their way out of school theater.
"I honestly don't think Becky has an angle." Adam stated, throwing his backpack over his shoulder.
"Yes, but you're immaculate." Eli retorted, digging his hands into his jacket pockets. "Immaculates assume others are just as immaculate - which is just naive."
"I don't know whether to be flattered or offended."
"Why not both?" Fiona asked, and Adam chuckled himself. Maybe having her around wouldn't be so bad, after all. He had missed the humor between them.
"I just know she's planning something," Eli thought aloud, bringing a fist into his open palm. He was so consumed with his thoughts, he hardly realized that Clare had snuck up behind him until she linked their arms together. Adam gagged. Couple-y stuff.
"Or…" Clare said in an extended breath, nudging him. "She could be there to see someone special."
A chorus of 'ohs' phased the five of them. Though to be fair, Adam only did so because he hadn't wanted to feel left out. It was actually rather awkward on his part.
"Adam, you dropped your letter." Fiona called from behind him.
"No, I didn't." Adam said, pulling the red ribboned envelope out of his jacket pocket. He waved it in front of her. "See?"
"Well, then what's this?" Fiona asked, shaking an identical article in his face. Identical except for the blue ribbon that held it together.
In scrutiny, Clare raised her eyebrows. "And the saga continues."
Adam shook his head, "Where did you get that, Fiona?"
"It fell out of your bag." She said, handing it to him.
"Which means Bec, er, someone slipped it into your bag, when you weren't looking." Eli's grin was massive, trying to hide his minor slip up.
"Still don't have any ideas on who your secret admirer is?" Clare asked, shoving Eli slightly with a quick jab. It did nothing to wither his perpetual grin.
"Yeah, who could possibly have slipped that letter into your bag during a closed theater club meeting?" Eli added sarcastically, though the Torres boy hadn't noticed the emphasis.
"That's what I'm wondering." Adam replied, staring at the letter. Eli slapped his forehead, reveling at how incredibly thick-headed one boy could be.
"Well…" Eli insisted, waiting an extremely unnecessary amount of time for him to catch on. When he didn't, Imogen shouted, "Read it out loud!"
"Right." Adam hurriedly undid the blue ribbon, "You make my day."
He stared at it, wondering how something so short could be so sweet, and why (oddly, enough) it sounded familiar, somehow. Twirling it in his hands though, he shook off the feeling of nostalgia. Imogen dissolved into a mess of grins and 'awws'. Eli, on the other hand, just rubbed his forehead.
"We could stake out your locker like last time," Clare suggested, holding up one hand. "Like last time."
"No, no." Adam refused. "Besides, it could just be a joke, or something. I just don't want to be disappointed again. It's easier to leave things as they are -anonymous."
"So, you were serious about that?" Eli smirked.
Adam frowned, turning over the blue ribboned envelope in his hands. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it. Heck, he had hardly thought about anything else since the first letter had arrived. But-
"How am I supposed to know?" Adam asked sternly. "If this is real, or not?"
"Well, I think you should give, Ms. Secret Admirer a chance." Imogen hopped forward.
"Ha!" Eli barked, as if he had found something awful in his soup. "Please, Adam can do better than someone who has to quote the most cliched line of Romeo and Juliet in order to inspire romance." He was of course, referring to the first letter sent.
"It's a cliche for a reason, Goldsworthy." Imogen retorted. "I think the fact that it's Shakespeare at all, gives the sender automatic kudos."
"Still doesn't stop her from appearing shallow." Eli persisted.
"Still waters run deep." Imogen refused to back down.
"Clare? Fiona? Thoughts?"
Fiona shook her head, raising her hands defensively, "Leave me out of this - I claim immunity for being the ex."
"Okay, fine. Fair enough." Eli contended before turning toward Clare. "Clare, you haven't dated Adam."
"...That you know of."
Gaping, Eli stared. First at Clare, then at Adam. Alternating between both of them with a mixture of confusion and horror. Adam was sure he was about to have an aneurysm at any moment.
"She's joking. Oh mercy knows she's joking!" Adam defended himself with raised palms. He turned toward the girl and whispered loud enough for the five of them to hear,"Are you trying to get me killed?" Clare just smiled, imitating Eli's patented smirk.
"I swear, you two have rubbed off each other in the scariest way." Fiona muttered behind them.
"Clare?" Eli raised his eyebrows.
"Clare?" Imogen put her hands on her hips.
"Fine, I think he should give her a chance-" Clare conceded.
"Aha!"
"But not rush into things."
"Aha!"
It was still a stalemate.
"So, what does that mean?" Fiona asked, still a little bewildered, though she seemed to settle down once Imogen took her hand.
"It's a tie." The bespectacled girl said gravely. She pumped her free hand into the air and shouted loud enough for the entire hall to stare at them, "I demand a recount!"
Shouldering off the random stares he received, Adam shoved both envelopes into his bag. "Guys, it's not like I'm going to date her just because you tell me too," Of course, he wasn't going to tell them he had actually considered doing this for a brief moment.
Disappointed, Imogen casted her gaze toward her shoes and let out a breath. "I guess, Becky Baker will just have to deal with it then. Mercy knows how much it hurts to have someone not like you back."
The other three nodded.
The fourth - Adam - did a double take.
Surely he hadn't heard that right.
"Did you say Becky?"
"Nooo..." Imogen replied, narrowing her eyes as she deliberated what had been just a slip of the tongue. She stressed the word with another big, long breath to stall for time. "I said - shoot, why does nothing rhyme with Becky?"
(tbc.)
A/N: While you contemplate what rhymes with 'Becky,' please feel free to review.