Wanda looked so darn perfect that it hurt to look at her. Since when did Ian care that she looked perfect anyway? She was his best friend right? Best friends don't notice that kind of stuff. Why was Ian so confused about how he felt about Wanda all of a sudden? Why should he care that she had the most beautiful grayish-silver eyes? Why should he care that she had a perfect heart-shaped face and that she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen? Why all of a sudden? Why at all? It was so confusing that it hurt to think about it, to think about her.
aaaah Ian moaned internally. He ran his hand through his dark black hair. He always did that when he didn't know what the hell to do or when he was extremely confused. Which wasn't very often. Ian almost always knew what to do. He could react to a dangerous situation in a very calm-headed way. Why not now? Why must the slightest of pink blush appear against his oddly fair face when Wanda complimented him on his sketches? WHY??????
'Damn it!' he yelled as he smashed his fist against the wall that separated his and Kyle's room. Pain. Never do that again, he made a mental note. 'Ah, crap.' He muttered as he looked at his bruised knuckles.
'Wanda', he sighed softly.