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There are just some things everyone knows to be true: pink is the best Starburst color, banana-flavored candy always sucks, and the top of the muffin is the best part. This is why Hitch, every time she grabbed her after-school snack from her backpack, carefully removed the top of her muffin to eat it and tossed the bottom in the trash where it belonged. Why suffer through the worst part of a food when it was just as easy to not force herself through it? Besides, the muffin – which had come from the breakfast joint her parents worked at – was huge. It’s not like she could’ve finished the whole thing, anyway, and it felt dumb to bring half a muffin home. If she did that then her mother would be on her case, fretting about whether or not her daughter was eating enough, if she was alright, if someone was bothering her at school and that was why she didn’t finish the muffin. All in all, it just seemed to be the easier option to leave it in the trash can in Mr. Dok’s classroom.
Hitch, for once in her life, had actually gotten to said classroom early. She was only a general member of the student council – the exec board was too much work! Not to mention the fact she literally would’ve had to run for a position and get voted in. No thanks! – so she only had to go to meetings every other week. She was typically what she liked to refer to as ‘’comfortably late’: early enough to beat the actually late members, like Boris, but late enough that she didn’t have to sit with the exec board for too long, waiting for the rest of the general assembly to file on in after their classes were done.
But today…she’s not really sure what compelled her to come early. Maybe it was because it was the first StuCo meeting of her last year as a high schooler, and that lifted her mood up enough to figure it wouldn’t be all that bad if she hung out with the exec board before the meeting. Besides, the first meetings of the semester were usually short, anyway, so it wasn’t like she was extending the amount of time she’d be hanging around the rest of the student council by all that much. And, aside from that, it didn’t hurt to start the year off on the right foot. Set herself up for success, or something like that; her dad was constantly going off about that so maybe she took his advice for once.
As expected, when she got into the room the executive board was already seated at the front of the classroom: Marco Bodt, class president and member of the marching band, Marlowe Freudenberg, vice president and captain of the baseball team, Armin Arlert, historian and anime club president, Mina Carolina, treasurer and drama club darling, and Hannah Diamant, the secretary who looked downright depressed without Franz. He was, originally, part of the student council as well, but seeing as he and Hannah spent more time talking to each other – and getting far too handsy for a high school classroom – Mr. Dok was pretty quick to kick Franz out, since he was a general member while Hannah had been voted into her position. It was kind of a wonder they managed to stick together for as long as they had, but Hitch guessed it wasn’t all that crazy considering Mr. Dok was usually busy running the National Honors Society at Stohess Academy, leaving the lenient Mr. Aiblinger in charge of StuCo more often than not.
“Hey, Hitch!” Marco gave her a bright smile, looking up from whatever he, Marlowe, and Armin were looking at on his laptop.
Hannah was pouting, as usual, in a different seat, and Mina was playing some game on her phone. Hitch didn’t really care enough to make the effort to peak over her shoulder.
“Hey, guys,” Hitch gave them a polite smile and put her backpack on the nearest empty seat to her, wondering whose nondescript black backpack was sitting in the chair right next to it. Under any other circumstances, she’d never be the one to sit in the second row, but she couldn’t take her normal seat in the back without someone, probably Marco, asking what she was doing so far away from everyone else. Oh, well. She’d just move to a more comfortable seat in the back corner, probably next to Boris and Annie like she’d sat for the past two years, at the next meeting.
Much to Hitch’s chagrin, as the time for the actual meeting got closer, it turned out the backpack at the desk next to her belonged to Marlowe Freudenberg – as evidenced by the fact that he had taken a seat at the desk. Well, there was really no need for her to fret over it, anyway. She’d probably sit in a different seat anyway come the next meeting; one where she could comfortably admire him from afar as she had for…again, two years. That was actually the reason Hitch had joined StuCo, anyway. Ever since she had freshman English with Marlowe, he had become something of an object of fascination for her: he was the only one in class who would stand up and endlessly argue with Mrs. Brzenska about his differing interpretation of the text. At first, Hitch spent the rest of her freshman year teasing him and was amused by his inability to tell when she – and the rest of the class, truthfully – were mocking him.
And then, when she was watching him give an impassioned speech as part of a debate in their civics class at the beginning of their sophomore year, the light from the window streamed in and hit him just right and she finally noticed that Marlowe Freudenberg was pretty cute. Like, really cute, actually. While this revelation stunned Hitch at first – did she really find him attractive? Wasn’t she supposed to be thirsting after, like…football star Reiner Braun? – she found she settled into her newfound feelings just as quickly, and easily, as she had settled into mocking him to begin with. Though, her teasing took on a more affectionate lilt from there on out. Not that he noticed either way.
Which, now, brought her back to the present: her, sitting next to Marlowe Freudenberg in an extracurricular, and not just because their teacher just so happened to put their seats together.
“You don’t usually sit in the front,” Marlowe pointed out.
She wondered if he could somehow sense her nerves, despite doing her damnedest to appear unbothered – a skill which she had been refining for as long as she could remember – but, ultimately decided that didn’t make sense. He was oblivious to being teased right to his face, so he probably didn’t think much of the anxious rhythm she bounced her leg in. “Nope,” she leaned over, unzipping her bag, “just thought it might be fun.”
Marlowe hummed in response, mirroring her movement to dig around in his backpack as well, pulling out his laptop.
Unlike Marlowe, Hitch only went through her bag to grab her usual after-school snack. On days when she didn’t have extracurriculars, she would usually just go to the restaurant herself and eat whatever her father – the star baker who put Jasmine’s on the map and never let a damn soul forget it – had set aside just for her. One of the perks of basically being the child of six different adults, five of whom were workers at the restaurant, with the last one being the actual owner.
She couldn’t help but giggle to herself as she unwrapped today’s muffin – banana chocolate chip, which was always the first one to sell out – picturing Uncle Levi grumbling to himself about how nobody came to his damn tea shop for tea, all they wanted were the muffins. And other breakfast foods, but with how Hitch’s father, Oruo, talked everyone’s ears off about how his muffins were the main draw…
As always, Hitch carefully pried the top of the muffin off and began to eat it.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat a muffin like that.”
Hitch snapped her head around to look at Marlowe, suddenly self-conscious about the way she’d been eating muffins her whole damn life. “How do you eat muffins then, oh great muffin expert?”
Marlowe cocked his head to the side. “I don’t know that I’d call myself an expert. But I just…bite the whole thing. You know, all at once.”
“That’s how amateurs eat their muffins,” Hitch scoffed, taking another bite.
“I didn’t realize how much skill there was involved in it.”
The way he took things so literally all the time would’ve been infuriating if Hitch hadn’t spent an embarrassing amount of time daydreaming about being Hitch Freudenberg – yeah, yeah it didn’t sound perfect but it was leagues better than Marlowe Bozado, which was too heavy on the ‘o’ sound – and thinking about how handsome Marlowe looked in his Stohess Unicorns baseball uniform. “Lots of things you don’t know, Freudenberg,” she replied, getting up to throw away the bottom half of her muffin now that she had finished the top.
“What’re you doing?” Marlowe asked, eyebrows knit together.
“What does it look like?” She asked, poised over the trash can to drop what remained of her snack inside of it.
“That’s a waste,” he shook his head as he spoke, “it’s a perfectly good muffin.”
“Do you want it, then?” She held it out closer to him.
He looked confused.
Before he could answer Hitch added, “either you eat it or it gets tossed,” she held it over the trash can again, “you have the power to stop food waste, Marlowe!”
He sighed. “Fine, I’ll take it.”
Hitch gave him a grin, “lucky for you this,” she said, putting the muffin on the corner of his desk, “is a banana chocolate chip muffin from Jasmine’s.”
“Thanks,” he said, picking it up and unwrapping the paper. “I’ve never actually been to Jasmine’s. I hear about it all the time, though.”
“You’re missing out,” Hitch crossed her leg under the desk.
“I’ll find out if I am in a second,” he let out a small laugh – more a sharp exhale through his nose than anything else.
“I didn’t know you knew what a joke was,” Hitch giggled.
“I think everyone does,” he replied, taking a bite of the muffin.
Well, she guessed she was giving him too much credit. Unless he was joking back with her and she didn’t realize? Who knew. “Well? What’s the verdict?”
“I can’t believe you were gonna throw it away,” he said, taking another bite.
“I already ate the best part, duh.”
He shook his head, “no you didn’t.”
“What?” Her judgment was written plainly on her face, “everyone knows the top is the best part of the muffin.”
Marlowe shrugged, “I think the bottoms are better.” Marlowe paused, opening up the meeting minutes on his laptop since the meeting time was getting closer. “The tops are too sweet. They always have sugar on them.”
“That’s what makes them the best, though,” her voice took on the upward inflection of a question, denoting her incredulity at Marlowe’s preference.
“To each his own, as the saying goes,” Marlowe said, voice nearly drowned out by the crowd of students who were all slowly filing into the classroom.
The trouble with student council meetings being every other week for general members was that she didn't get to see Marlowe the following week. But when the week after rolled around, the new problem was that she knew she would be expected to come early and sit in the front, now that she already had done it. But…the idea didn't bother her as much as her day went on, looking forward to spending more time with the outrageously serious vice president of the senior class. Seeing as it was their senior year, and who knew what fancy-schmancy colleges he was applying to, it was unlikely that anything would come of it. Though, that assumed there would have been any likelihood given different circumstances; he didn't really seem all that aware of getting teased, let alone flirted with. Besides, the type of girl he probably liked would be someone more like him; someone much more dedicated to their coursework than she was, and who jammed her schedule full of extracurriculars and volunteer hours.
Hitch sighed, walking into the classroom and sitting in the same seat she had two weeks ago. As was tradition, she dug in her backpack to see what muffin her father had left for her today – she usually didn't peek in the brown paper bag to see because the surprise was part of the fun – and was pleased to see it was a double chocolate chip muffin. As much as her dad complained that it “might as well be a cupcake,” he knew it was her second favorite and always made sure to make a special muffin with a sugar topping, which he typically omitted on this particular flavor (“It’s sweet enough already!” He’d say, shaking his head as he added it), just for her.
“Are you going to eat the bottom this time?” Marlowe asked, settling in his seat beside her.
“Nope,” she said, ripping the top off, as usual. Once she finished, she handed the bottom to Marlowe.
“You’re not eating it?” He graciously accepted the muffin, putting it on the corner of the desk.
“I already took the part I wanted, duh,” Hitch rolled her eyes, twisting a strand of her hair around her finger.
“Do you…usually throw out your muffin bottoms?” Marlowe unwrapped the paper and ripped off a piece of the muffin to pop in his mouth, tapping away at his laptop.
Hitch adjusted her position slightly so she could take a peek. It was a Word Doc, probably, like, his college essay or something. Eugh, she should probably work on hers, too. Eventually. “Yeah, I toss ‘em,” she took a bite of her muffin then added, “unless you’re around.”
“I should try to be around more often,” he said.
Before Hitch could even fully react, beyond the flush that crept up her neck, at least, Marco called the meeting into order.
It didn’t mean anything. Probably. He was just making a dumb joke about the muffin, and it had nothing to do with her company at all. She was giving him one of Jasmine’s famous muffins, after all, so that was all he had in mind. But, despite her attempts to talk herself out of the giddy anxiety of reading into his words too deeply, Hitch couldn’t help but tap the steering wheel of the junker her parents passed down to her when she got her license and imagine how nice it’d be if a certain classmate with an atrocious haircut was in the passenger's seat.
Making good on his word, at the next National Honors Society meeting – an organization many were surprised that Hitch was a part of, but that was fine by her. She didn’t need to impress anyone but the one behind the desk her college application ended up on – he actually sat closer to where she did every week. He was always the type to come early and take a seat at a desk not only in the front row but also in the very center of it.
“It’s weird to see you back here,” she said, shrugging off her backpack as she settled in the desk to his right.
“It’s weird to see you here early,” he replied, not missing a beat.
Damn, he actually had some bite to him. Before she could shoot something snippy right back at him, he spoke again.
“I’ve got something for you this time,” he said, leaning over to rummage around in his backpack. After a minute, he put one can, then a second, on his desk with a soft clank. “I wasn’t sure which you would like, so…” he trailed off, eyes flicking to the opposite side of the room.
“Let’s see,” Hitch leaned forward slightly, “we got a peach tea and an Arnold Palmer,” she tapped her chin with her middle finger. “You got a preference?”
Marlowe shook his head, “you pick. I got them for you, anyway,” he let out an awkward cough into his fist.
If he kept this shit up Hitch was just gonna have to kiss him. “Sounds like ya got one,” she teased, unable to resist the urge to poke fun at him, “you would’ve said no if you didn’t.”
“Really, I’m happy with either one,” he tugged at his shirt collar.
“Well, if you insist!” Hitch leaned forward slightly, swiping the peach iced tea off his desk. She tapped on the tear line twice with her fingernail, then pulled the tab to open it.
“Why’d you tap it?” Marlowe asked, opening his Arnold Palmer without tapping the top.
“My parents do it,” Hitch shrugged, “we do it with all our cans.”
“You should ask them why next time.” Marlowe took a sip of his drink.
“Just for you, Marlowe,” she gave him an exaggerated wink, unable to hide the laugh she let out when he nearly choked on his drink. Poor guy. Deciding to give him a break, Hitch dug in her backpack to grab the muffin of the day. As per usual, Hitch pried off the top and handed Marlowe the bottom, “and here’s your muffin half.”
“I didn’t sit with you to get a muffin, just so you know,” he said, not accepting it.
“Yeah, I know,” she said, putting it on his desk, “maybe I want you to have it,” she muttered.
“Um,” Marlowe cleared his throat, “thank you. I…appreciate it.”
“Whatever,” she muttered, turning her head forward and shaking her hair out from behind her ear, leaving an ash blonde curtain between them to block out her blush.
From then on, it became a tradition for Hitch to sit in the front of the classroom for StuCo and for Marlowe to sit more towards the back for NHS; from those seats they'd split a muffin Hitch brought and drink whatever drinks Marlowe bought at the vending machine. He seemed particularly fond of Arizonas, but that was perfectly fine with Hitch – she was mostly happy to spend the scant few moments they had before their meetings started with him. They were both working on college applications, and it just seemed like nothing would really come of it, anyway. Realistically, they wouldn’t go to the same school, probably, and most seniors weren’t keen on getting into a relationship right before they left their tiny hometowns; after all, who wanted to be bogged down with a relationship when there were so many new people to meet?
But that didn't stop Hitch from daydreaming about Marlowe, thinking about going to the same university as him, when she was supposed to be working on her college essay. Time was flying and before she knew it, the green leaves of the trees on campus became the autumnal hues that announced to the senior class they better fucking get a move on, November was coming much faster than any of them thought.
It probably wasn’t the most interesting essay that would land on the desk of an admissions officer, but Hitch was writing about how her experience as a cheerleader and how being at the top of the pyramid taught her how to place her trust in others. Or some bullshit like that. It really wasn’t that deep, but she figured she could wax poetic for, like 500 words, and hopefully make it sound pretty enough that they’d let her in. The goal was to get into the University of Paradis, ideally the Mitras campus, but she heard the Trost one wasn’t all that bad. But she’d rather die than go to the Yarckel campus. Mitras was the best because it was in the city, Trost, at least, was a bustling town, but Yarckel? Bumfuck nowhere! No, thank you!
As she typed away on the library’s computer – using her laptop would be too distracting; the temptation of fucking around was much more difficult to resist – someone took the seat right next to her. She was about to ask the other person if they somehow missed that there were, like, a dozen other open spots that weren’t right next to someone else, they spoke.
“Hey, Hitch,” came the voice of Marlowe Freudenberg, pushing his chair in to settle at the desk next to her.
“Hi, Marlowe,” she turned from her computer, looking to see him pulling a textbook out of his backpack. “Don’t have a muffin today, sorry to disappoint,” she yawned, stretching her arms over her head. She actually overslept and forgot to grab her lunch, let alone her snack, so she was forced to eat cafeteria food. It was a bummer, really, since she had cheer practice soon – she was mostly in the library to kill time.
“That’s not why I sat with you,” his words coming out defensively.
“Oh?” Hitch cocked her head to the side, “then why did you?”
He cleared his throat. “Because I wanted to.”
“What, do you like me or something?”
He mumbled something that she couldn’t hear.
“Come on, speak up!” He was never someone who gave speaking his mind a second thought, so she was shocked.
He cleared his throat, “I like sitting with you,” he mumbled again, though this time at an audible volume.
“Huh,” she said, wrinkling her nose and wishing her hair wasn’t in a low ponytail so she could hide her blush behind it. She had cheer practice after school today, and she was mostly in the library to kill some time before it started. Getting some of her college essay done was just a bonus, really.
The two sat in silence, both tapping away at the keyboards of their respective computers until Hitch noticed she had 10 minutes before practice. It wasn’t a far walk from the library to the gym, but she figured she might as well get a move on. God, hanging around Marlowe too much was making her the kind of student who wasn’t just on time, but was early. Her parents would be proud, they’d probably want to shake his hand or something equally embarrassing for her.
As she put all of her things away and logged off the computer, Marlowe spoke.
“Can I, um, ask you something?” His voice shook a little.
“What’s up?” She said, turning around to face him after slinging her backpack over one shoulder.
He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. And then closed it again.
“Well?” He looked like a fish out of water.
“Um,” he cleared his throat, “I was just, uh, wondering…what your top choice school was!”
That was what he was so nervous about asking? Weirdo.
“U Paradis. Aiming for Mitras.”
“Oh!” His eyes lit up, “me too, actually.”
Hitch cocked her head to the side. “Really? I thought you’d be aiming for something like…Marley Institute of Technology, or something. Some fancy private school.”
Marlowe shook his head. “I’m, um, not supposed to tell anyone, but,” he glanced over his shoulder as if someone might eavesdrop, “I’m gonna announce my commitment, soon. Their baseball coach reached out to me over the summer, so…”
“Ooh, lucky you,” Hitch stuck her tongue out, “I wish their cheer program recruited, too. It’d be a lot less stressful.”
He let out an awkward chuckle, more to fill the silence than anything, if she had to guess. “I’m sure you’ll make it,” he sniffed, “you’re…you’re really smart, so…”
She wrinkled her nose. “Thanks.” Smoothing out the skirt of her cheerleading uniform, “see you later, Marlowe.”
“See you, Hitch.”
For the entirety of cheer practice, Hitch kept working on her college essay in her head.
The next time Student Council met, a week later, Hitch got there before even the E-Board did. She’d have to make a comment to at least one of them, probably just whoever came in first. Her last class of the day was moved into the classroom Student Council meetings took place in; a cool thing about being in a school that was around for centuries was that the local historical society didn’t let them add an elevator to the oldest building on campus. They wanted to preserve the school building as it had been when it first opened its doors to students, which sucked for whatever class was in this room before. Since Eren Jaeger broke his leg and couldn’t hobble up the stairs on his crutches, their class swapped places with one in a newer building that had an elevator. Hitch honestly had half a mind to thank Eren for getting their English class into the nicer building.
While she had expected Marco, as president, to be the first one in the room, it was actually Marlowe.
“Beat ya here,” she teased, bending over to grab the muffin for today: a pistachio-flavored one, colored green. Her father grumbled about how everyone expects pistachio muffins to be green, so of course, he had to bust out the food coloring. She didn’t think it was a big deal to have food coloring, but for whatever reason Mr. Bozado was very bitter about it.
“What a shock,” Marlowe laughed, taking a seat next to her. As always, he pulled two cans of Arizona out of his bag, but this time he put one on Hitch’s desk and one on his.
She looked closer: they were both mango flavored, so there wasn’t a choice for her to make. “Thanks,” she said, ripping off the top of the muffin and handing him the bottom, “for you!”
“Thank you,” he took the muffin half from her and set it on his desk. This time when he opened his can, he tapped it twice with his nail just like she always did.
“Congrats on U Paradis, by the way,” Hitch said, tapping her nail on her can, too. She thought about not doing it, just as a joke, but it was a force of habit at this point in her life. She asked her parents, actually, like Marlowe suggested but didn’t get an answer.
“Why do we, Petra?” Her father asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
She rolled her eyes, “because you always do it.”
Then they argued back and forth, and Hitch tuned it out as she ate her tuna casserole.
But, anyway, that wasn’t the point. She actually saw it on the school’s Instagram page – Marlowe, Reiner, and Ymir all got recruited to U Paradis for baseball, football, and basketball respectively. The three were sitting at a table, all signing what she assumed were the official papers showing that they were, for certain, going to the school and were surrounded by their sports’ respective coaches. Also adorned in brand spankin’ new university gear.
“Doesn’t Reiner look dreamy?” Ruth sighed.
“Not as good as Ymir,” Historia countered.
Hitch silently ate the sandwich she brought from home, not sure how the other girls would react if she said, ‘actually, I think Marlowe looks the best.’ Historia wouldn’t be happy, that was for sure. But, she also didn’t think she’d be happy if she agreed that her girlfriend looked good. Talk about a no-win situation.
“Thank you,” Marlowe said, taking a bite of the muffin. “It’s definitely a relief to not have to worry about acceptances.”
“Geez, just rub it in why don’t ya,” Hitch scoffed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
She knew he didn’t – and she was teasing, anyway. God, he was so oblivious.
After a few moments of silence that was only a little awkward, Marlowe spoke up.
“Um…so, Hitch,” he began, voice surprisingly quiet.
“Yeah?”
“I meant to ask you this last week, actually. In the library,” he cleared his throat. “I was wondering, maybe, if you’d want to. You know. Maybe…get breakfast together? Like, at Jasmine’s?”
“Geez Marlowe,” she teased, “are you asking me on a date or something?” She brought the can to her lips.
“Uh…” he sniffed, “I…I am.”
She swallowed wrong, sending her into a sputtering coughing fit. Great job, Hitch. Now she looked fucking stupid in front of him, right when he asked her out, too.
“It’s ok if you don’t want to,” he mumbled.
“No, no,” she choked out, waving her hands. Once she finally regained her composure enough to speak normally she croaked out, “swallowed wrong.”
“Oh.”
“I,” she cleared her throat, “I’d really like that.”
Marlowe let out a laugh that kind of sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “Great, um. I can pick you up sometime, then?”
“Sorry,” she said taking a very small sip of her drink, “really, um, bad time to choke.”
He grimaced. “Yeah…”
Grabbing a notebook from her bag and ripping a page out, she wrote her address and phone number down and gave him the sheet of paper. “Here.”
“Thanks.” He folded the paper and slipped it into his planner.
Before Hitch could say anything else, Marco and Armin walked into the room.
Slowly, the rest of the council shuffled in. Hitch was sure they were going over something important, but she really didn’t know what was going on. She was too busy trying to hide her blush behind the open screen of her laptop, thoughts already in a booth at Jasmine’s across from Marlowe.