N.S.

chapter 2

harper

The letters just keep coming from nowhere. I've gotten two so far, and the person wants me to reply?

What is this even?

I've encountered many crazy things in my time, but never anonymous letters from someone that claims to have loved me for years.

Who do I know that could've loved a person like me for so long?

The only girls I've known are just girls that I slept around with. I know one thing for sure, they weren't real feelings.

It was like the mystery writer knew exactly what I wanted; a real relationship.

But who is it that knows what I want? Who's messing with my mind like this?

After school I lock myself up in my room and pull out a pen and paper. I know that whoever this is, I can't hurt them, no matter how much I cave in.

Falling in love with words isn't worth my time.

nick

Pen and paper collided when it came to speaking about my thoughts. It was all really simple honestly. Everything I was keeping cooped up inside myself that had to do with Harper; gone and written in a letter just for him.

It was something special I think we had between us. Something that I could keep to myself and smile about years later when we're sitting in front of the fire place. Cuddling because it's too cold to sleep alone...

Maybe too far.

I turn the corner to the old abandoned locker to do my daily check for a reply from Harper. I have two letters set to drop in the locker when I get a reply. One with positive responses, and one with negative.

I open the locker, ignoring the creaking sounds. My eyes widen as I see a white piece of notebook paper folded in three.

Harper replied?

I pick it up and shut the locker quickly before making a mad dash to the parking lot where my car (the only car left in the lot) is.

I open the paper quickly, eager to read when Harper has sent. It isn't as decent as my tan notebook paper but it's still a reply. It says something about the type of person he is. Lazy, but simple.

My eyes scan across the paper and read what he says. Seconds later I'm starting my car and driving away.

My next letter has nothing to do with the two I've already written.