Iggy's head snaps up from his plate as the sound resonates through the empty dining room.
"Nudge?" he asks.
My ears can just barely register his voice speaking to me as my heart begins to beat double, no triple, time against my ribcage.
Oh God. Why did I do that? How could I let my feelings get the better of me and let all of that slip?
Why do I open my big mouth?
"Nudge? Are you okay?"
Shakily, I stand up from the table and rush into the kitchen, turning on the sink, full force, and splashing water everywhere.
"Damn it!" I hiss.
"Language Nudge."
I jump, not expecting to have the pyromaniac standing behind me.
"Iggy."
He nods and smiles.
"That's my name, don't wear it out." His milky eyes scan the area above my head. "You ran out of the dining room, made me worried. Are you okay?"
I nod.
"Nudge?"
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." My voice doesn't sound as even as it usually does. I hope he doesn't notice.
"Did you hear what I said?"
Turning around, I soften the amount of water coming from the faucet, and go back to washing my dish.
"Yeah, you asked me if I was ok."
"No, Nudge. What I said in the dining room, about your definition of love?"
I try to stay calm and appear nonchalant.
"Oh, that. Yeah, I heard you."
Iggy stands beside me and begins to wash his plate as well.
His long, slender fingers seem to become even lighter beneath the water.
"Did you ever notice that?"
"No, never actually."
Liar.
Iggy hums.
We fall into silence for a few minutes, or maybe it's a few seconds. Who knows, time always seems longer when I'm with him.
Iggy shuts the water off and dries his dish.
My eyes follow his movements as he places the plate on the counter.
"Why?"
I look at his face again.
"Why what?" I really should stop repeating everything he says to me, but that's just more proof of the effect he has on me.
"Don't play stupid Nudge, it doesn't suit you."
I frown.
"I'm not."
"Then answer the question." His voice is firm.
I fidget with the hem of my shirt, suddenly more interested in the gray cotton against my skin than the handsome bomb-loving Adonis before me.
"I don't know Ig. I mean, you can't just ask somebody a question like that and expect them to have an answer."
"But I'm not asking somebody. I am asking the amazing, sweet, and extremely observant and intuitive Nudge. She would know because she's almost always thinking."
I shake my head.
"Well, she doesn't know what to say. I mean, the two of us? My idea of love? Ridiculous."
A sudden chill goes down my spine as the meaning behind my words hits me.
"Wait- I meant- Iggy I didn't mean it the way that it sounds." I rush out, desperately trying to stop him from misinterpreting my words.
The corner of his lips tug downwards an inch, and a wrinkle forms between his eyebrows.
"Then what did you mean Nudge?"
I'm quiet, trying to assess my thoughts into coherent sentences, but the words aren't coming in clear enough.
Iggy drums his fingers against the counter top, waiting for me to save myself.
"I...what I meant was-well it's just you know you're blind Iggy and I just don't see how you could want or even think of us as..." Instead of making things better, my idiotic tongue is making things worse, way worse.
Iggy chuckles darkly, before shaking his head.
"I may be blind, and I may not be as inquisitive as you, but I am not an idiot. I can have my smart moments too and I surely know more about things like this than a little girl with a motormouth and pretentious thoughts."
And now it's my turn to be hurt; his words hit me like a roundhouse kick to the stomach.
Swallowing the remark that bubbles to my lips, I nod my head and walk out of the kitchen.
"Thanks Iggy, didn't know you saw me the same way everyone else did too."
Racing back up the stairs, I rush into my room, and close and lock the door behind me.
'Angel, no visitors.'
'How did you know I was getting ready to knock on your door?'
'Angel, this is you we're talking about here. You read my mind and now you want to play counselor. Well too bad, cause I'm not in the mood; not for a counseling session and definitely not for any girl time. Please just leave me alone.'
I fling myself onto my bed, landing face first into a purple pillow.
Why today? Why now? Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut? Why couldn't I just use the Nudge Channel, that one time to stop this whole mess from happening?
I can't get mad though. After all, when you're only 13 years old, avian or not, when it comes to love, I guess you're still as stupid as the rest of the general preteen population.
Joy.
So what if he called me a little girl? So what if he basically just shattered the belief I held in him that he was the only person who didn't see me as a child or someone who's just good for hacking and rambling about complete nonsense? Who cares if he chooses to disregard my insecurities and play off of them in the one petty fight we have in all of our lives. So what? Why does it matter?
I close my eyes and roll over.
"Because you love him, and once you love someone, they have the most power over you. That person now has the capability to hurt you in ways you never thought possible. Because you thought Iggy would be different, that he was different. You thought letting yourself go around him made you better, gave you release. You thought that a little girl like yourself might have an actual chance with a boy 3 years your junior. That a boy so glorious in design and so strong in faith and character would somehow, in some weird twist of fate, would love you, despite your misgivings as a preteen girl with no real grasp on the world."
A tear makes a path from the outer corner of my right eye to the bottom of my chin.
"You thought that letting that piece of information out wouldn't have severe consequences; you were wrong. You thought he wouldn't make the connection. And now that he has, you must try to deny it but look where that got you." Another tear escapes from my eye, the left this time.
"You love him and he doesn't love you and despite this fact, something that you knew deep down in the very core of your soul, you still chose to ignore it and manifest hope that you were wrong. Now you know. You love him and the only thing he can see you as is a little girl with pretentious views on the world. But the best part, isn't that he views you as this, or even the fact that you were right in the first place. No, it's the fact that even though you now know how he sees you, you still choose to be foolish enough to love him. You truly are a little girl, a stupid one."
A soft rapping against my door, snaps me out of my depressing thoughts.
"Nudge?"
I suck in a breath.
"Nudge, can we talk please? I don't truly understand love, but hey, Iggy could possibly-"
"Cut it out Angel. I've had enough of deluding myself to believing that I could even have a chance with him. I'm a little girl. He's a teenager. I'm his little sister and nothing more. I'm just Nudge the Chatterbox, talk a thousand words a minute without missing a breath. Who cares if I have feelings, or if they even get hurt? Who cares if after opening up and accidentally letting this slip and realizing my mistake and trying to fix it I fail? Who cares if now the very boy I have fallen in love with mocks me with my own insecurities? Why should I care if he loves me or not? I've done fine without his love so I shouldn't be at a loss. Who cares if I love him and am doomed to be in love with him because I can't escape this box? Who cares? Iggy doesn't, and neither should I."
"Nudge?" I freeze.
That second voice was not Angel's.
"I-Iggy." I breathe.
"Nudge, is that true?"
A sudden wave of panic surges through me and before I can stop myself I'm unlocking my window and flying out the backyard.
Fight or flight response. Guess I know which one I chose.