Recap: Ian finds Wanda crying and beaten behind the bleachers, and rescues her, taking her all the way to his house for her to stay the night, much to Wanda's dismay. Furious, Ian asks her who did this, but Wanda is insistent on lying or evading the questioning. This is what happens next.
CHAPTER 12
NIGHTMARES
"Veronica. Victor. Wait, no, Violetta. Am I warmer?" Ian asked Wanda, while sitting around the counter, enjoying cold sandwiches for dinner. Wanda shook her head in response. "How about that Asian exchange student? I bet she's a demon inside."
She only shrugged.
"Give me a clue. Give me something," Ian begged. "You know I'm going to make Kyle piss on Lacey's lawn, either way."
"For the millionth time, Ian," Wanda griped. "Let it go."
"No, I won't let it go." Aggressively, he cracked open a can of diet coke, took a sip, and spat it back into the sink. "You like diet coke?" she shook her head no. Wanda twirled her hair nervously, hoping this distraction would divert his attention from the initial topic of discussion.
"Anyway," Ian said as soon as he was back with a glass of water. "Where was I? At V? Oh, no, we were talking about Lacey."
"She didn't touch me," Wanda assured him. It was not a lie. The lie in her claim was what she added after. "Not her fault." She said this as quietly as possible, to hide the lie that was so obvious. But there really was no hiding from it – it was like wearing red to a funeral.
"I don't buy that for a second." He put a whole sandwich into his mouth, and whatever he said after was unintelligible. "A fink if wah weedenwerg. Yuh?"
Wanda snorted sweetly, her adorable little sound of amusement only Ian could elicit, and rolled her eyes. Ian had lived knowing, that the more you made a girl laugh, the more they liked you. That's how it had always worked. But, the more she laughed, the more he started to like her. It was a strange, unfamiliar position to be in. How effortlessly she could make those around her so ridiculously happy. And she had no idea.
These were the little things that often caused Ian to lose his train of thought, and think only of her.
He stared at her curiously, without realizing.
Wanda blinked a couple times, adjusting her oversized clothes. "What?" she asked. All this eye contact felt… unusual.
But not bad, she thought.
Ian only realized what he'd been doing for so long and coughed, stalling to think of a non-creepy response. "Um, there's some cheese on your…" he pointed at his cheek with his finger.
"Where?" Wanda started wiping her face, despite anything being there. In the process of doing this, she actually left traces of bits of the chicken salad on the corner of her nose.
"There," Ian pointed at his own nose.
"Here?" Wanda asked, pointing to the complete opposite side.
"No, there," Ian pointed at her own nose, now, laughing. Wanda rubbed it with the back of her palm, and now got food right under her lip.
Ian chuckled and wiped it off, saving her the trouble. His smile never wore off.
"Thanks," Wanda said, shyly, in a small voice.
Often during so many of these awkward moments, she drifted off and started looking around the apartment, spotting random details. It wasn't hard to change subjects, because all she would have to do was point at one of the many pictures that hung on the wall, and ask "Who's that?"
Ian would look at the pictures nostalgically, and explain where and when and why this picture was taken and with whom, enthusiastically and lose himself in the memories. Sometimes he wished he'd never left Florida, but then he was immediately pulled back into the present when one day made any sign of her presence.
He would realize then, that he would never have met her.
He was willing to give up his past for just that.
How he wished he could tell her so.
Why is it that I like her so much?
He often thought these things, in his free time, especially right before bed. Now that Wanda was sleeping soundly in his room, and he was out here all alone on the couch, he was free to think about these things without feeling embarrassed.
He thought of all the girls he'd been with, the reasons why he'd chosen to be with the girl he was dating, and the truth was, there was really no reason. It wasn't right for a boy like him to be single, because all the girls would be after him, so that was his incentive.
He never wanted any of it, but rather needed it. For the sake of some peace of mind.
But what was it that made him want to be around Wanda, so much? He couldn't understand. There was this strange feeling of comfort he felt around this almost-stranger. He didn't really know a great deal about her, but he knew that he wanted to know more. More and more and more, until she became an extension of his own self. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, her pet peeves, hopes, dreams. He wanted to know all of that, and he wanted to give himself to her just like that.
Was it because he was lonely? He didn't think so, he just couldn't help being intrigued by her mannerisms and her optimism. How would Kyle have dealt with all the bashing and bullying? The whole would have known the entire story by heart.
She was so brave. And content with whatever she had.
Had he met anyone in his entire life who was ever as grateful as she?
Thinking of her, he could not drift into sleep. There was too much to think about, too much to wonder. He liked to imagine her, think of everything that made Wanda herself. He could almost hear her whisper his name, in that special, heartwarming way of hers. "Ian," she'd say. It sounded so much better than how other people said it. "Ian."
He could imagine her sniffling and crying, as she said this. "Ian," she whispered, this time here voice full of fear.
Wait – where was he getting all this? Why could he hear the sound of her small feet shuffling against the wooden floor? His eyes shot open, and he turned around to see Wanda, tear faced, in his damp, green jersey. It reached her knees, and hugged her shape like a great, big nightdress. In her hand she grasped a pillow.
There was so much fear in her eyes. Ian was immediately up and off the couch. "What happened?" he asked her gently.
"I had a bad dream."
He gently caressed her face, wiping out the tears. "You wanna tell me about it?"
She looked up at his face, unsure what to say and choked out a few words. "I was back at the bleachers," she said, and burst into tears.
He engulfed her into his big arms, trying to reassure her she was safe. "It's okay, it's okay. You're okay."
He guided her towards his room, trying to settle her into bed. He sat and scooted, patting the bed so as to gesture her to lie down, and she complied.
He leaned down to whisper into her ear, "Don't think about it, okay?" and kissed her forehead.
He'd kissed her.
Not on the mouth or anything.
But his lips had touched her face, and this was enough for him to tell, that, no, this change was irrevocable.
He would never be able to look back. Sifting his hand through her hair, he was now sure he knew what he wanted.
When she was asleep, he tried to give her space and started getting up to head back to the catch.
"No," she protested, softly, in her sleep.
"I have to go to bed," he told her.
"Please stay," she mumbled weakly.
Lying down next to her, he thought, it couldn't have been just him who wanted more from this strange friendship. There was deeper care they felt for one another, that went beyond the realms of friendship.
But would Wanda be able to recognize this as easily as Ian had?
At the moment she was not concerned. She was dreaming, and she was safe. Safe here.
With him.
Unaware of the severity of this change, they fell asleep in each other's arms.