AS YOU WISH *dramatic sweeping bow*
[for context: highschool au, i think]
—
The doorbell rings.
“Hey Beth, you mind getting that?” Art lays on the couch, bowl of popcorn balanced on his chest. The television casts a sickly glow over both of them, some poor fool currently being cut up with a chainsaw.
“Fine, do ya have the extra cash? I only have ten bucks.”
“Yeah,” he points to the kitchen counter, “I put it over there.”
She groans and stands, flicking on a light and padding over to grab the money. The doorbell rings again, impatient. “Yeah — coming!” Beth jogs over to open to door, shivering with the cold gust of wind that comes with it.
“Beth Childs?” asks the delivery girl, her windswept hair matching the wildness in her eyes.
“Yeah,” Beth answers, feeling a tug at the base of her diaphragm, a feeling she can’t quite name and isn’t even remotely prepared for. She’s staring. Beth realizes this and backs up, bringing up the bills like a shield. “H-how much?”
“Fifteen,” the girl says, unzipping the bag and handing the pizza to her. Beth’s hands shake uncharacteristically as she hands the girl the money, noticing her name tag.
“Uh, Sarah,” she pauses as her chest seems to warm against the cold, “you can keep the change.”
“Thanks,” Sarah mutters, reaching out. Their hands touch and after a long time (too long, Beth thinks, blushing) Beth realizes she’s holding Sarah hand. She pulls it back, fast, nerves sparking and making her palms sweat, suddenly hyper aware of her messy hair, the way her jacket is slipping lazily down one shoulder.
“Cool!” Beth gasps, reaching for the door nob, “Thank you!” she backs up and slams the door shut, leaning back against it.
“Did you get lost?” Art asks from the couch, waving the remote, “should I start again?”
“Yeah, yeah cool,” Beth replies, placing the pizza gingerly on the table. “So why is that guy running around with a chainsaw?”
—
Beth waves to Art as he leaves, hand falling as she remembers the tug in her gut from before. She’s about to close the door when a scrap of paper catches her eye — she bends down to pick it up, turning it over to find a phone number scrawled onto one side, Call me on the other.
It’s the punkcop revival! send me prompts!