Chapter Text
💌 💌 💌
“Don’t get me wrong, I love love, but to wait until a holiday to declare it and buy chocolates and decorate everything in pink and red—isn’t that kind of like…” Lucas trails off, sinking into the dingy plastic assembly chair, trying to find the right words to conclude his epic rant about the upcoming holiday that’s plaguing their school.
“Capitalistic?” Chris finishes for him.
She has half her weight on one corner of the matching plastic table, threatening to collapse if she puts any more weight on it.
If any of them put any more weight on it.
“Yeah!” He snaps his fingers, and her best friends high-five each other.
Lara Jean, who’s focused on the stack of slips in her hands, gives a slight head tilt, offering the only good thing the holiday brings: “Some people just need that extra courage to tell the people they love how they feel.”
Then she delicately places the stack at the center of the table, making sure it’s straight, perfect, and centered.
Valentine’s Day is the last day of the week, and she’s on the committee selling grams for a student council fundraiser. Lucas is on the committee with her, and Chris is… well, she’s just here—she probably skipped the last couple of minutes of class to be here, actually.
“I’d argue that you probably don’t love them enough if you have to wait for a fucking holiday to jump on the bandwagon,” he counters.
Lara Jean thinks about it, really thinks about it. Then she thinks about the five love letters stored away in her hatbox at home, in her closet, buried deep under her clothes—letters that’ll never find their way to their recipient, much less see the light of day if she can help it—Valentine’s or no Valentine’s.
She’s not proud of it, but they’re there, so she has no choice but to nod and agree.
“You know what, Lucas,” Chris laughs as she grabs the pink box on the table. “You’re onto something.” She brings it up to her ear and shakes it. Then she concludes, “Seems like a lot of people are falling for the capitalistic propaganda, I fear.”
Lara Jean only smiles at her friends as she plays with the pink pen in her hands, “I think it’s sweet that they’re brave.”
“I’m pretty sure over half of that are for friends, from friends,” Lucas says. Then, to make a point, he grabs a red slip, jots something down, puts it into the box, and then takes two bucks from his wallet and puts that in the cash lockbox. He winks, “You’re welcome, Lara Jean.”
She rolls her eyes but can only smile at him.
The lunch bell rings, and suddenly the cafeteria is filled with eager students ready to escape their boring, dreadful classes.
“You think we’re gonna sell out today?” she asks as Chris leaves for the lunch line to beat the rush.
“You asked this yesterday.” Then, “And the other day. And the day before that.”
She laughs, “Alright, I get it. My bad for being hopeful.”
“Well, LJ. For both our sakes, I really hope we sell out today.” He stretches. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
She shakes her head, but another smile slips through at his playfulness, her long straight hair rolling over her shoulders as she readjusts her red headband. “Come on. We only have two more days left—well, one more day of selling and then we’re passing it out on Friday.”
“Do you think it’d take us all off Friday to prepare and hand them out?” There’s a newfound eager lilt in his voice.
“Mmm… if we can sell out, that’s definitely possible.”
“Man, if that’s the case, I really hope so—I want to skip sixth period.”
Then he gets up from his chair and starts pitching the grams to everyone as if he were selling the allure of teenage rebellion and underage drinking and drugs—or something terrifyingly close.
Miraculously, somehow, with only a few minutes left of lunch, there’s only a single red slip on the table left, waiting to be bought and sent.
They look at each other.
Lucas makes a face at her.
Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “No way! I can’t give it to—” then she realizes and shuts up.
His face falls. “LJ, come on.” Then he glances at the slip again. “Free us from this misery and just buy it, girl.”
“No! He’s dating Gen—you know I can’t!”
Lucas deadpans at her, eyebrow raised, and the corner of his lips quirks up and everything judgmental, “I didn’t even have Peter Kavinsky on my mind.” He grabs the slip. “Just buy it for a friend or something. I would, but I don’t have two more bucks on me.”
“Maybe…” Lara Jean looks around, seeing if there’s anyone left in this room that Lucas hadn’t reached. “Once the bell rings, if it’s still here, then I’ll…” she grins when she comes up with what to do. “I’ll give you the money for it. And you can send it to whoever you want.”
He gives her another exasperated look as he plays with the paper with his fingers. “Sure, whatever.”
The bell rings.
No one comes.
She inserts the money into the lockbox.
Before filling out the slip, he looks back up at her, “Are you sure?”
She nods, “Definitely.”
And that’s how they sold the last Valentine’s gram, two days early, two minutes after lunch ends.
When they’re nearly done packing up—money box locked, tables and chairs folded and ready to be put away—a boy dashes into the cafeteria.
He nearly runs them over.
“Woah there—“ Lucas dodges as Lara Jean shrieks and jumps to the side.
“S-Sorry guys!” He comes to a stop, backpack slung over one shoulder, half-unzipped, wavy brown hair messy and even slightly damp.
He looks around, “Aw man, did I miss lunch?”
Lucas snorts up a laugh as Lara Jean gives him a weird look.
But she’s nicer than Lucas, so she responds, “Yeah, you did, Peter.”
He does another take before his eyes find their way back to them. “Hey, Lara Jean, Lucas. More ASB stuff?”
“Yeah,” he sighs.
Peter offers, “I can help you with the table if you’d like. We all have next period together anyway.”
“Are you sure?” She asks. “We’re heading to the student council room first.”
“Yeah,” his thin lips form a smile. “Positive.”
On their way back, Lucas, who’s carrying the chairs, asks, "Don't get me wrong—you’re a great help, Pete, but don't you think Ms. Kas’s gonna get mad at you? Again?”
“I mean yeah—yeah, I do, but I’m already late so… I don’t think it matters.”
Peter walks with the table with ease—even a lightness in his steps. He is a lot more fit than he lets on. But then again, when he’s either always in a sweater or a printed T-shirt, it’s hard to tell.
“We can vouch for you this time,” Lara Jean offers as she carries the money and pink Valentine’s box. “But you’re gonna fail if you keep doing that.”
Lucas lets out a single loud and exaggerated “Hah! You think Peter Parker is gonna fail chem? The science wiz of Midtown?”
“You’re right,” she shrugs, “Maybe detention then."
He coughs, “Yeah—actually, I have detention after school today.” And then, as if it couldn’t get worse for him, his stomach growls.
She quickly offers him a cookie she had left over from lunch, “Here.”
His brown eyes look at hers, “Are you sure?”
“Consider it as thanks for saving us a trip back to the cafeteria.”
“Oh, cool, thanks then.”
“No problem, Peter.” She ignores the fact that he only uses one hand to carry the table now and thinks that Peter is really fit.
“Seriously, man,” Lucas shakes his head as they reach the room and he opens it. “What do you fucking do?”
Lara Jean looks at him as she carries the boxes in first. The truth is, she’s curious as well. It’s not like they’re friends—at best, they’re acquaintances who know each other’s names (it helps that he shares the same one as her longtime crush) and at worst, they’re classmates—but still.
He shrugs as he sets the table down, “Oh nothing much…”
“So you’re telling me you just… skip for the sake of it?” Lucas asks.
The door closes behind them, and they’re out alone in the hallway, with hearts dangling from the ceiling and pink and red streamers decorating the space.
“I guess?” Peter’s starting to look uncomfortable.
“You don’t seem like the type to.” Lucas continues, “Man, it’s always the quiet ones.” Then he puts an arm around Lara Jean. “What about you, LJ? What secrets are you hiding?”
She giggles, losing her balance, and they stumble into Peter; he catches her.
”Sorry, Peter!”
“No, don’t worry about it, LJ.”
As they walk down the empty hallway, Lucas moves and throws his other arm around Peter too, even ruffling his hair. “We’re so fucked aren’t we?”
“We have valid reasons to be late,” Lara Jean says as a matter of fact.
“You’re right. Only Peter’s fucked.”
She asks, “What do you think Ms. Kas is gonna say this time?”
Peter sighs, “God, I don’t know. Maybe her usual?”
Lucas starts an impression of their strict AP Chem teacher, voice slow and heavy, “Parker, Parker, Parker, what excuse are you going to give this time?”
Peter laughs an airy laugh and, “Lara Jean? You got me, right?”
She giggles and plays along, “He was helping us with some ASB stuff.”
“Parker, I’m still marking you—for being a kind and chivalrous individual. Don’t help people in need next time.”
Their laughs echo in the long hallway as they stumble to the chemistry lab in the peaceful afternoon, sunlight filtering through the windows.
Friday comes around and by the time the student council finishes assembling and sorting the grams, the morning’s gone.
“Good luck, Lucas.” Lara Jean wishes as they stand in front of the door, boxes filled with red goodie bags in their hands, preparing to head to war—because for her, they might as well have been.
She does not like the idea of knocking and interrupting classes in session and announcing the names of the recipients of Valentine’s grams.
She should’ve never volunteered for this to begin with.
“Yeah,” he laughs. “You too, LJ.”
But it’s too late now.
And off they go.
She finds out it isn’t too bad. She got used to the knocking and name announcing thing after the third classroom. It certainly helps not to look anyone in the eyes as you read out the names.
By the time lunch rolls around, half the box is left.
“Is there any for me in there?” Chris asks, as they sit together under the bleachers.
She shrugs, “Not sure. Don’t think so.”
“You didn’t get me one?”
“No,” Lara Jean shakes her head, and her hair swings with it. She reaches into her backpack and takes out a box of cupcakes. “I got you something better.” And then a letter.
“Oh wow, thanks, LJ!”
Chris gives her a gift and the girls enjoy lunch together.
Now, an hour and a half before the school day ends, there’s only one gram left.
Lara Jean drops the box off in the council room and picks up the last one, along with her backpack, deciding she’ll just head back to class after she’s done.
Her heart picks up at the familiar arrangement of letters.
The name on the recipient reads, Peter.
But then just as quickly, her eyebrows knit together.
Why the hell is there no last name?
She flips the red slip over and looks for a classroom.
It’s not there.
She sighs.
Then she looks for a sender.
It’s not there either.
But to be fair, half of the slips they stapled to the goodie bags lacked a sender because confessing is one thing. But confessing and then signing it with your name, in ball-point pen ink and rushed handwriting with the possibility of the entire student body council seeing it?
Yeah—fuck no, never.
Then she decides to snoop and look at the message.
Or, where the message is supposed to be.
But there’s nothing there either.
She groans.
Then she looks for literally anything else besides a name.
She finds the number 11, which stands for the juniors. It definitely helps.
She starts walking, even though she’s not sure where she’s going and thinks of all the Peters she knows in their grade.
After five or so minutes of mindless walking, she can only come up with two. Because there are only two. But just to make sure, she makes the trip back to the student council room to look up the roster.
Yup, only two.
She takes the liberty and looks up their fifth and sixth periods, writing it down on a pink post-it.
Before she heads back out, Lara Jean drops the pen in her hands and shrieks—delayed reaction to realizing that one of the two Peters is her crush.
Who’s also her ex-best friend's boyfriend.
And worse, the damn note has nothing, so if his mind goes the very possible route of reasoning and deduction, he’s going to think it’s from her.
She shrieks again, the loudest one yet.
What sort of mind fuck coincidence was this? The world was messing with her.
She calls Lucas—because this is no texting matter, obviously—but she’s sent straight to voicemail. Then she texts him, in all caps and ten plus exclamation marks, because how else is she supposed to get the severity of the situation across?!
She’s probably sent him twenty emotionally charged texts, four voice notes, two more calls to voicemail, before she finally decides to face the cruel world.
By the end of the terrifying ordeal, it takes her a total of twenty minutes to leave the council room.
She walks in the direction of Ms. Kas’s chem class to find the other Peter first—maybe if this gram belonged to him, then she wouldn’t have to face the scarier Peter.
But then she realizes that if she has no way of telling who it belonged to, he certainly can’t.
As she walks, she overthinks.
Maybe she can just give it to Peter Parker and play it off as an accident if the true sender ever finds out.
But then again, it’s probably Peter Kavinsky’s gram—she remembers how filled his locker was when he opened it earlier today during passing period.
And then she feels like a bad person for thinking Peter Parker wouldn’t get a gram.
But then again, it could be played off as a genuine mistake, and she’d probably get away with it!
But then she thinks of all the red and pink that fell from Peter Kavinsky’s locker again and—
Yeah, she huffs pathetically. There’s no way it’s not Peter Kavinsky’s.
When she decides this, Lara Jean turns around and speed-walks the other way to make it to his class—it’s now or never.
Because next period, Gen will be with him.
But right as she turns the corner to the room, the bell rings.
Naturally, Lara Jean pivots the other way and runs, conclusively deciding to just find other Peter and play all of this off as a big fat fucking intentional mistake.
“Hey Ned?”
“Oh, LJ, hey.” Ned closes his locker and waves to her.
Like her and Peter Parker, Ned and her don’t talk much—but they know of each other and occasionally interact. That, and also because they’re all kind of near the bottom of the high school food chain together.
She likes it here, though.
And she likes Ned and Peter.
“Hey Ned! Do you know where Peter is?”
“Uh…” he looks confused. “Peter K.?”
“No, your Peter.”
His eyes widen in recognition, “Oh!”
“So… do you know where he is?” She offers her reason, “I have to deliver Valentine’s gram for the student council, and there’s one for him.”
Ned does a double take, “Really? Someone gave Peter a gram?”
She feels less bad now—but she becomes certain that it belongs to Peter Kavinsky.
Oh well.
Suits the sender right for not putting anything else besides a first name and number.
“So do you know where he is?” She follows Ned as he starts to walk away.
“Uh…” he thinks for a bit. “Nah. Maybe already he’s at sixth period? It’s Spanish with Mr. Huerta.”
“Oh, perfect,” she smiles and stops walking, because Mr. Huerta’s classroom is in the other direction. “Thanks, Ned!”
When she reaches the class, he’s not there, so she loiters around the door.
Twenty minutes later, he doesn’t come.
So she knocks and asks for him, to which the teacher only confirms what she already knows: that Peter Parker’s not here.
Lost, she thinks about where he could be.
She knows he’s on the academic decathlon team, so she tries that room.
Nothing.
She remembers he interns for Tony Stark—everyone knows this—so she goes to the robotics and engineering room.
Nothing.
Then she remembers how unexpectedly strong he is, so she goes to the gym—nothing—then to the track—nothing.
Frustrated, she sends Lucas another text to find that he responded.
Reading it, she just about faints on the damn track.
oh, that one’s yours, lol
or well, mine.
but bought with your money
lowk forgot Parker exists when I wrote that
give it to whichever lol