A Stupid Love Letter

Chapter 7 - Cardboard Box

Was murder still illegal? Could I possibly get away with beating a man to death with a toaster and throwing his body down the school steps? Probably not, my school has security cameras, after all.

However that didn't stop me from wanting to bury a fork in Mason's face. He was the reason why I was stuck in the bathroom. My poor, very awkward and under-developed body was exposed to both of them. How could I possibly articulate that I tried asking for breasts when I was ten and I still haven't gotten them. I didn't want to be a part of the "itty-bitty-titty committee". I didn't want to have to stuff my bra with toilet paper just to be able to hold up a strapless dress! This breast deficiency was a serious disorder. Like people should be donating money to support my cause. I SHOULD BE ON OPRAH.

Okay, so there was no way that Oprah was taking me on the show. Trust me, I called her and they blatantly declined. And so I sighed and hoped that the karma gods would bless with me with some god damn courage and breasts. Those would be welcome too.

When I finally managed to leave the bathroom I came to the realization that I had no idea where Nolan's room was despite the fact that I had just been in there moments before. Feeling slightly risqué I took the elevator a couple of floors up. The doors opened to cherry wood floors and a massive sleigh bed and twinkling lights messily strung from the ceiling. It smelled like flowers and rain and the walls were covered with paint, paintings of stars and the moon and everything dream-like. My jaw was unable to even drop for every muscle and fiber was focused on the decadence of such a room.

There was poetry inscribed into the wood, Oscar Wilde quotes hanging in the air, and a sense of wonder. I wanted to pee on the floor. Not in some awkward psychotic way, but to mark my territory. This room was me…Well a cooler version of me, but me nonetheless.

In my trance I figured that nothing could possibly ruin such perfection. That remained true until I heard his voice.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?" Mason seethed. "First you flash me and now what? You're trying to rape me?"

I scoffed. "If I were a rapist I would have better taste than that."

"Better taste than perfection?" He closed the distance between us and I became fearful that for some twisted reason he would kiss me and I'd suffer from Stockholm's syndrome and we'd end up as some wacky couple on the front page of The Inquirer.

"Keep those dirty lips away from me." I warned, making a cross with my fingers.

His eyebrows furrowed, "I'm not a vampire!"

"YOU NEED JESUS." I screamed at him.

"But --"

"You need to take a first class trip to The Vatican to bathe in some holy water."

Mason grabbed my hands. "What are you even talking about?"

"My virginity! My hand's virginity. He is molesting my poor hands." I screamed.

I began to bare my teeth. "Relinquish me, foul beast, or I'll tell my mother what you've done."

"Do you just inhale sugar?" He shook his head and let me go.

"I don't understand why you're so frustrated. It's my room." He mumbled.

"I don't understand how." My fingertips grazed the walls of the room. "Perverts should live in cardboard boxes. Not places like this."

He rolled his eyes. "You really say whatever you think don’t you?"

I gave him one of my "you're-damn-straight" smiles. "Now are you going to allow me to finish looking around?"

Mason just looked at me half-way between frustrated and inquisitive. "Alright." He said. "Just don't make a mess."

Frantically and as far away from the word gracefully, I skipped towards one of the doors. It was a closet, or at least that’s what it seemed to function as. There were more clothes in here than a department store. Mason could've easily been gay and yet for some reason he was dreadfully attracted to me. Of that I was sure. I turned on the light and noticed a cardboard box in the corner. "Aha!" I urged him to come near. "So this is your pervert cardboard box."

I opened it up and out tumbled all of my love letters.

Author's Note: Holy bananas. I haven't written anything for wattpad in approximately ten centuries. Mostly because I feel like this story is dead XD and everyone could care less. But here is a chapter for probably the three people still reading. (Me, my cat, and my grandma). Comment if you wanna make my day. XD Or don't.