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A/N: This is my story for the first round of a contest on GaiaOnline, the Harvest Writing Festival. There are five rounds so in this, there will be five chapters. I'm hoping to keep it with the same characters so overall—all together the five writing pieces will make a story.
Enjoy my round one piece: Completely Innocent
My Darling Becca,
May I bestow upon you a question?
The Handsome Wylie
---
7 October
Wylie,
First of all, you’ve already asked me a question. Second of all, you are to call me Beccalynn. I don’t care how close you think you are to me. And thirdly, why do you insist on writing a letter when we’re sitting right next to each other? We’re far back anyways, Father won’t see us.
Beccalynn
---
7 October
The Gorgeous Becca,
I’ll call you what I want. You don’t even like your full name. Stop being stubborn. And I’m writing to be inconspicuous. And God can see us. What would he think if I were to talk in church? Tut tut, you must think of him too…
My question:
Becca, gorgeous, darling, stunning Becca. It interests me so…are you wearing any knickers?
Wylie
---
I’m not answering that.
---
7 October
Becca,
So you’re not? Oh and the format of your letter was all wrong. You forgot to address me and the date. And you didn’t sign. What if I thought it was your mother who sent the letter?
Wylie
---
You know what day it is. I’ll sign it, if it makes you happy. Why did you have to sit next to my family anyways? Why did you even come to church too? You don’t even like it.
Beccalynn
P.S. I am wearing knickers, for your information, you sick pervert.
---
What if I want to keep these letters some day? I might be too old to realize that they were sent on the same day. As for church, how do you know I don’t like it? You don’t even make an effort to get to know me. Which hurts, you know. You and your knickers…
Wylie
P.S. Could you take them off?
---
That’s disgusting. I’m not replying anymore. Send all the letters you want, I won’t send back.
Beccalynn
---
Okay.
Wylie
---
Want to know what I’m thinking?
Wylie
---
We should ditch this and have a nice make out session in the confession booth. What about you?
Wylie
---
I couldn’t help but notice that even though you’re not replying anymore, you’re still reading my letters. Isn’t that pointless? Oh well, I might as well harass you even more.
The look of disgust on your face is sexy.
Wylie
---
Fine. I’ll reply. See, this is what you do to me—my self discipline is shattered and
Great. Mother just noticed. You’re lucky I’m quick with my hands and managed to hide the letter in my corset.
Beccalynn
---
I found that attractive. Perhaps I can hide my hand there?
Wylie
---
Stop that. It’s not amusing at all. Why do you say that anyways?
Beccalynn
---
I don’t know. I actually don’t normally talk or think that way around anyone. But with you I just think it and since we’re writing letters I’m putting it into words.
Yeah, I guess I kind of like you.
Wylie
---
If that last letter was supposed to be romantic or heart-warming it was far from that. It was really creepy. And disgusting.
I hate you, Wylie.
Beccalynn
---
Want to go out with me?
Wylie
---
GET YOUR HAND OFF OF MY LEG.
---
Oh, nice move. Slipping the note between my hand and your thigh. Anyways, will you go out with me?
Wylie
---
What part of ‘I hate you’ don’t you understand?
Beccalynn
---
Oh, I understand what it means. But I know that you don’t mean it.
Wylie
---
I’ve got some sad news for you, bud: I meant it.
Beccalynn
---
No, you didn’t. I know because of your face. When you mean something hurtful your eyebrows arch inward. But when you wrote it they stayed the same. You were lying.
Wylie
---
Writing and saying are two different things. And how would you know my eyebrows arch in when I’m saying something or meaning something hurtful? Have you been stalking me too?
Beccalynn
---
No, not stalking. Watching. It’s hard not to—I’m only saying this now because you know that I like you.
Wylie
---
Yeah, you’re really creeping me out. And move over, your thigh’s touching mine.
Beccalynn
---
Am I making you nervous?
Wylie
---
No. I hate you. You’re making me want to vomit.
Beccalynn
---
I think I do. There are goose bumps on your arm—I sent a shiver down your spine.
Wylie
---
I’m cold!
Beccalynn
---
It is 100 degrees in here. There’s no way you could be cold. I make you nervous. Admit it.
Wylie
---
You don’t. Oh, thank God church is over. It passed by quickly.
Beccalynn
---
That’s because I sat beside you. I tend to do that to people. What can I say? I’m that good looking.
Wylie
---
You’re right; it was you who made church go by faster.
Beccalynn
---
So you do like me?
Wylie
---
No. I have been writing letters to you through the whole hour. Thanks for occupying me.
Beccalynn
---
Anytime.
Do you want me to occupy you for dinner as well? I’m free.
Wylie
---
I’ll have to pass.
Beccalynn
---
I’ll kill myself if you don’t.
Wylie
---
You’re lying.
Beccalynn
---
You’re right, I am. I’m too much of a coward to.
Please give me a chance?
Wylie
---
Fine. One date.
Beccalynn
---
You didn’t even hesitate to write ‘Fine.’ And you might want to get up; your family is out the door. I’ll keep the other letters.
I’ll get you tonight at your house.
Wylie
---
See you then, I guess.
Becca