Trade (MarcoxReader)

You grinned at the brightly colored brunet approached you, a smile spread wide across his freckled cheeks. “Honestly, Marco,” you laughed, shaking your head, “I will never understand why you where that shit.” The tall boy scrunched his face up at you teasingly in response, plopping down on the bench across from you and bringing his lunch tray down with him. You sneered back, sticking your tongue out. After a moment, the two of you both remembered that you were juniors in high school and stopped making faces, instead laughing at your childishness.

“Seriously though, Bodt, you’re such a trash baby.”

Marco acted offended for a moment, pressing a delicate hand to his chest, pale pink painted nails catching the light of the fluorescent bulbs above. A dramatically feminine gasp leaving his full lips. “I am offended, (F/n) (L/n),” he stressed, struggling to keep the smile off of his tanned face, “I came out to have a good time and honestly I am feeling so attacked right now.”

“Goddammit, Marco!” you roared, leaning forward to throw a punch at the brunet’s arm, “You piece of meme-loving shit!”

Marco winced, trying to keep his arms up in defense, “Ow, ow!” he called out, cringing, “That hurts!”

You sulked, crossing your arms over your chest as you fell back into your seat. “Whatever, you baby,” you tsked, beginning to pick at your food with a plastic spork. It didn’t really interest you, so you glanced up again at Marco. He caught your eye for a moment, expression looking like a kid who just got caught with his grubby fingers in a cookie jar, before winking over-exaggeratedly at you. Snorting, you flipped the boy the bird and recommenced picking at your wimpy salad.

“We should trade clothes one day,” Marco said thoughtfully, his fingers curled under his chin. His dark eyes were half-lidded and a lazy smile was on his freckled face.

You gawked at him. “What?” you asked, incredulous, “You wouldn’t fit in my clothes.”

Marco laughed, a full-bodied sound that made your heart flutter. “No,” he managed through his giggles, “I didn’t mean where my clothes!” He must have noticed the strange look on your face, because he explained himself a bit more. “I mean we should buy each other an outfit and wear them together one day.”

A single eyebrow was raised to him. “You do realize you would literally just be wearing what every other boy wears for once?”

His nose curled up in distaste. “And it will be the largest struggle of my life.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, causing Marco to grin boldly. When you stopped giggling, you tried to deter Marco from his latest plan. “Come on, Marco, it’s, like, the end of the year.”

“What a better time to do something like this?” he told you with a cheer, obviously excited.

You groaned. “No, Marco,” the words were drawn out and your head was thrown back in defeat. When you flipped back forward, you gave Marco an expressionless stare and stuck your hand forward. “It’s a deal,” you told him.

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Last day of school. You and Marco Bodt.

There were gasps and odd looks from friends as well as classmates you never bothered to talk to when you showed up in mint green sweater with a slightly sheer white button down under it, the collar folded over the neck of the sweater and light pink shorts. Knee high, pale yellow socks covered your legs as well as platform-heeled white mary janes.

You groaned as you walked through the front door and met up with the man who picked out this goddamned outfit. He was rocking a band tee and stone washed skinny jeans. And if you didn’t know him as Pastel Boy you would’ve said absolutely nothing about what he was wearing. Meanwhile, you looked like some pastel anime chick with too much makeup on your face.

Marco basically just bought whatever he thought looked good and told you to put it on. So, like an idiot, you put it on. False eyelashes, pale pink eyeshadow, and glittery pink lipgloss. At least it was pretty neutral.

The freckled traitor was grinning like an idiot when you found him.

“Dick,” you insulted, shoving him as you walked straight past him into your first period class. He laughed and followed you to your desks. You grumbled when you sat down, crossing your arms over your chest and pouting. Marco only laughed again, causing you to shoot a glare in his direction.

Still chuckling, Marco put his hands up in defense. “Sorry, sorry, you just look really cute when you’re angry.” Now angry and blushing, you tightened your arms around yourself and sunk lower in your chair. Still laughing, Marco plopped down in his seat in the back of the room and making faces the whole time the teacher talked about the final that would only take like 20 minutes because the teacher was the coolest.

He added some grinning remark about your outfit, as well, making Marco whoop in appreciation and you to hide your face in your hands. Making a face at the teacher as he passed you your test, you passed back the rest of the papers and began working on the test.

Some questions about Hamlet’s daddy issues, some on why the kid in Catcher in the Rye is a dumbass first-genius second, and some on how society needs to shape up or Brave New World will actually become a thing. Literature stuff. It wasn’t awful.

And you almost forgot about your outfit. Until you tried to get up to turn in your test and you tripped on your heeled shoes. You heard Marco snort (being the only person to see it, as he was the only other person who had already finished and turned in his test), and shot a glare back at him as you regained your balance. Smiling ruefully at the teacher, you handed him your test and stalked back to your desk as four or five other kids finished as well.

Keeping a wary eye on your teacher, you pulled out your cellphone and shot Marco a text.

To: Pastel Prince
F U

From: Pastel Prince
<3 <3 <3

To: Pastel Prince
still a dick

His response took him a bit, but after you received it you stuck your phone back in your lap and tried to contain the squeak in your throat, only peering back down at the message when you regained a bit of your composure.

From: Pastel Prince
still cute <3