I wait until I see Vincent slip out of the changing room with the track team. Usually, he would bring his backpack out for me to watch, but he left it in his locker today. Right now, I'm supposed to be driving to the mall with my friends. With the Winter Formal approaching, he must've believed my lie, thinking I was being dragged into dress shopping hysteria. Wrong. I'm going home to eat strawberries and cream with Wilbur. Well, more like Wilbur eats the strawberries and I sit and spray a whole can of whipped cream into my mouth while we watch the food channel.

I frantically shake the can of whipped cream before pressing on the nozzle as hard as I can. Nothing comes out besides the sizzling of air.

"Ugh, they need to make these cans bigger," I say, turning to Wilbur. He's unaware of my tantrum since he fell asleep after eating a whole strawberry. "At least you're satisfied," I sigh.

"I didn't realize the mall was your house."

I glance at my door and Vincent is smiling at me with his arms crossed.

"I just came home."

"The seven empty cans of whipped cream says otherwise."

"What are you even doing here?" I try to say coldly.

"Cause I miss you."

"Jeez, it's been two days."

"Yeah, that's a long time." Vincent lays down on the bed beside me, one of his arms propping up his head, which is facing me.

"I-I-I should put Wilbur back into his tank." I roll over, but Vincent twists me back and drags me closer to him, pinning my arms between our chests.

"You have no idea how jealous of Wilbur I am," he whispers, his breath tickling my cheek.

I forget to speak and instead stare at his face. Have his lips always been this pink? Why are they shaped so perfectly? I wonder if they feel like cotton. Why is his jaw so straight? Could I use it as a ruler? His chin is so sharp I want to poke it. Look at his ears. Gosh, they're cute. When did ears get cute? He has high cheekbones. Why haven't I noticed? Maybe he lost weight. I could probably comb his eyelashes. I wish I had eyelashes like that. Why are his eyes so glossy? Shoot, he's looking straight at me. Why have I been staring? Do I look away? No, he already caught me. But I can't keep gawking at him! What's wrong with me today? Why can't I look away?

I scramble away and end up falling off the other side of the bed.

"Wendy, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just remembered I might've let the stove on. I should probably check it. Stay here." I slowly back away towards the door and fly down the stairs. Once I'm in the kitchen, I crack open the fridge so I can stick my head inside to cool down.

It's not like I didn't know Vincent was visually attractive. However, I've never been one to fawn over someone's look. I acknowledged that people are beautiful, but I never got absorbed or obsessed. Maybe it's due to the fact I'm always staring at my feet.

"Wendy, what are you doing?" Wren asks.

"Nothing." I keep my head hidden in the fridge.

"Okay, then. Just let me grab a yogurt." Wren reaches over my head and I grab her by the shoulders and start to shake her.

"I need to ask you a question and you can't make fun of me."

"You finally got your period?"

"No! I already had it!"

"Then what?"

"Do you sometimes just stare at Vincent?"

"No. Why do you?" Wren teases.

"No," I scoff. "But if I were to, what would that mean?"

"Why would you stare at him?"

"Like don't you ever just want to just appreciate his face?"

"No."

"Is it odd to find someone's ear to be too adorable?"

"Wendy... You're totally falling for Vincent."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you like him," she coos.

"No, I'm just around him too much. Just tell me how to stop it."

"You can't."

"Jeez, you're no help," I groan as I swipe a bag of chips off the counter and move so Wren can get her yogurt.

I try to act normal, but it's more of an awkward march into the room with a constricted expression on my face. Vincent lays on my bed with Wilbur on his chest, trying to coax him into poking his head out by petting his shell. So cute... Snap out of it, Wendy.

"Here, you haven't ate right?" I toss the bag of chips onto the bed and retreat to my desk chair.

"Thanks." Vincent carefully places Wilbur back into his rank before tearing the bag open and munching on the cheese dusted corn puffs.

"Vincent, we need boundaries." I try to be as assertive as possible.

"For what?"

"For our friendship."

"Why?"

"Because people might get the wrong impression."

"Since when did you care about what people think?" Vincent doesn't take my suggestion seriously and continues to eat while staring at Wilbur drink water.

"Whatever. We can't hug, hold hands, touch each other, or lay or sit on the same furniture at the same time."

"What? I hug my friends all the time."

"It doesn't matter. I don't like hugging my friends."

"Then I can hug you and you could just stand there."

"Nope, you can't touch me. I'm a germaphobe."

"You share strawberries with your turtle..."

"Wilbur is an exception."

"Wendy, seriously. What's up with you? You've been acting weird."

"I'm always weird. Like you said, I share strawberries with my turtle."

"Well, what if I don't follow the rules?" Vincent smirks.

"Then I won't talk to you for 24 hours."

"What if you break one?"

"I won't."

"If you do, I can break a rule without punishment."

"Fine, but I won't be breaking one."

"That's the deal right? Because I don't want you making up random ones without me knowing."

"Why should it matter? You shouldn't even be breaking them."

"I plan to break one right now."

In an instant, Vincent is leaning over me, pinning me to my chair. His arms locked onto the armrests, so I can't try to slip out from the sides.

"Stop messing around Vincent." I push at his chest, but he doesn't budge.

"You just broke the rule."

"What? That's not fair. You're invading my personal space."

"Rules are rules. Now I get to break one."

Vincent cups my cheek in my palms and leans his face towards mine, turning it slightly. Our lips merge and I'm too numb to react. I force myself to pull away and Vincent doesn't resist. His hands stay firmly on my face.

"Vincent! Are you-" he dips his head down and a shuts me up with his lips. He releases this time and cheekily smiles at me.

"Now you can't yell at me for 24 hours." He gathers his things and backpack and leaves me in a daze.

I avoid all eye contact with Vincent the next day. How could he kiss me when we're only friends? I'm supposed to be mad, but my chest flutters when I think about it.

"Wendy, can we speak outside for a second?" Mrs. Miller asks.

"Yeah," I respond through the "you got in trouble" and "what did you do?". I follow Mrs. Miller out into the hallway and she turns to me, sweetly smiling.

"I have an unexpected errand and I didn't plan a babysitter. I have to leave before I can pick up my daughter, so would you mind babysitting her until Vincent gets back from track practice? I already told Vincent to pick her up and drop her off at home."

"Sure," I agree.

"Thank you. I'll pay you tomorrow."

"Oh, it's nothing. You don't have to. Vincent's my friend so just think of it was a favor."

"Aw, well, that's sweet of you. Can you do me another favor?"

"Walk in looking sad, so it looks like I yelled at you. I want kids to start taking me seriously," Mrs. Miller jokes.

After school, I couldn't ask Vincent for a ride. I'm supposed to be mad at him, but I'm more so flustered. Even after what happened in the mountains, I could forget about it until Vincent mentions it. This time, it's different. The same scene replays in my heads and rewinds, and I can't pause or stop it.

I'm forced to trek through the sloppy snow, which was melted and mixed with the mud to form a brown slushy. Even with my efforts to avoid sloshing into a puddle of wet snow, I manage to still get my shoes and socks soaked. Luckily, I get to their house before Vincent is back from picking up his little sister. I sit on their steps barefoot, having taken off my socks, and trying to dry the insides of my shoes with some fast food napkins I found in my backpack. Once Vincent pulls up, I abandon my socks and only put back on my shoes.

His little sister, with bouncy pigtails and a hot pink winter coat, runs out and sticks her nose up when she sees me.

"Who are you?" she asks with sass.

"Your babysitter."

"Where's my mom?"

"She had something to do."

"Vincent!" she shrieks. "Stranger danger!"

"Veronica, it's fine. I know her. Her name's Wendy." Vincent joins us with his sister's backpack in hand.

Vincent unlocks the door and Veronica flies off upstairs within seconds. He drops her backpack onto the couch and rushes upstairs after Veronica. I awkwardly sit down on the couch, looking around and seeing what's changed. Vincent and I rarely study anymore, even though I'm supposed to be tutoring him. He comes bounding down the stairs with socks. Without a word, he kneels in front of me and starts to take off my shoes.

"Vincent, what are you doing?"

He ignores me and slips his socks onto one of my feet.

"I have socks in my backpack," I argue.

Vincent holds my bare foot and wraps his hand around it. "Your feet are cold and wet. Why didn't you ask me for a ride?"

"Because I'm not talking to you..."

"Well, you are now." He finishes putting on the other sock.

"Why was this so hard?" I groan. Vincent's smile alarms me of what I just said, and I shrink back in embarrassment.

"It was hard to not talk to me?" he muses.

"It's hard to not talk anyone," I defend.

"Then why don't you talk in class?"

"Because I don't want to."

"So you want to talk to me?" Vincent's smile grows wider and I don't say a nothing else. I'm just digging myself a bigger grave. "I'm holding your shoes hostage. So don't even think about walking home without me."

"There's snow out and you still have practice?" I change the subject.

"The tracks are dry."

"Aren't you going to wear a jacket?" I notice he only has a light long sleeve shirt on.

"No, it's in the washer."

"You only have one jacket?"

"I'm rarely cold."

"Still, you should wear something."

"Are you worried about me, Wendy?"

"No! It's common sense not to walk around cold without a sweater."

"I'm fine. If my mom comes back before I do, wait for me to drive you home." He takes my shoes with him as he leaves.

Veronica emerges after Vincent leaves. After she makes sure the door is shut, she excitedly comes running down and sits on the couch beside me. She looks like she has a burning question, but seems wary of me.

"What grade are you in?" I ask, trying to get us to be more familiar with each other. I'm hoping my social skills are enough to get an elementary school kid to slightly like me.

"I'm in first grade. I'm six."

"Oh really? That's cool."

"How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen."

"Wow, you're old. You're-" she stops to count using her fingers. "You're ten years older."

"Yep. You must be good at math since your mom's a math teacher."

"Yeah, but I hate it."

"Why?"

"It's boring. I like dancing better. I want to be a ballerina! Want to see my tutus?"

"Sure," I agree.

"Come on! Let's go to my room." Veronica rushes upstairs as fast as a mouse. I try to keep up with her speed, but my walk here tired me out. By the time I get to her room, she already has half of her tutus on her bed spread out. There's more than enough to cover her entire bed.

"Woah," I gasp. "That's a lot."

"Yep." Veronica excitedly talks about each of them. "This one was my first one. It doesn't fit me anymore, but I kept it. This one is for when we did Cinderella. I was the fairy godmother. This one is my favorite one because it's a rainbow. See how sparkly it is?" This continues for a while, and I'm caught in a daze when Veronica explains to me the difference between two of her white tutus, which look exactly the same to me.

"That's great," I try to say enthusiastically after she finishes explaining her entire tutu collection.

"How do you know my brother?" Veronica's train of thought is as sporadic as her movements.

"I go to school with him."

"Do you know who his girlfriend is?"

"I don't think he has one."

"He told me he did."

"What?"

"Yeah. He told me she's prettier than any princess. Of course I don't believe him."

How could Vincent have a girlfriend? Have he kissed me? Three times? What if she's making this up? Why would a six-year-old bother making this up? I feel like my heart dove into my stomach and is now drowning in acid. Why do I care? It's normal Vincent has a girlfriend. I'm only mad because he kissed me even though he has one. That's the only thing...right?

"Did he tell you her name?"

"Nope. He says he'll take her to meet me."

"Oh."

"I'm hungry. Let's eat mac and cheese." Veronica leaves for the kitchen and I follow her.

Since I'm not sure if I could use the kitchen, and I'm lazy, I order a large pepperoni pizza. I'm totally worn out, so I just ate and sat on the couch. After eating a slice of pizza, Veronica occupies herself with her toys and a movie on t.v. I watch with her, but my mind is swimming with thoughts.

Vincent pops his head into the front door after two hours.

"Hey. How was it? Was it fun?"

"Yeah, I showed her my tutus!" Veronica pipes up after an hours of being completely absorbed in her shows.

"Well, I better get going."

"Wait for my mom to come back, so I can drive you."

"I can just walk home."

"Wait a bit."

"It was nice meeting you, Veronica."

"Bye! You should come to my recital!"

"I'll try. I'll see you then." I walk outside, brushing past Vincent. He follows me and stops me by holding onto my arm.

"Wendy, aren't you forgetting something?" he eyes my feet.

"Sorry." I peel off his socks and return them to him. I keep walking, barefoot.

"Wendy, let me drive you."

"Don't bother. Just worry about your girlfriend," I say spitefully. I'm shocked by my sudden anger, so I keep stomping off, my feet splashing in the wet slush.

"What girlfriend?"

"Veronica told me about it. She said you told her you have a girlfriend," I huff when Vincent spins me around. "You shouldn't go around kissing people if you have a girlfriend," I angrily scold.

Vincent pulls me closer by the waist, his eyes fixed on my eyes. "I was talking about you."

Wendy, you made a fool out of yourself!

"Well-well... I'm not your girlfriend! Don't lie to your sister," I attempt to appear unfazed, but my voice grows quieter.

"Why can't you be? I mean... I've been wanting to ask you. We never talked about what happened during fall break."

"Vincent... We should stay friends."

"How would anything change if we date? We're already around each other most of the time. I just want to be able to confidently say I'm your boyfriend."

"We make good friends. But we're not right for eachother."

"How could we know of we never give us a try?"

"I've been thinking, maybe we should hang out less. I think a freak like me being around you is scaring everyone off. You should get a girlfriend who will be compatible with you. I don't think your other friends appreciate that I'm hogging you all the time."

"Wendy-"

"Tell me when Veronica had a recital. All of her tutu talk has me interested."

"At least let me drive you home."

"It's fine. Just give me back my shoes."

Vincent ignores me and goes inside to get Veronica to get into the car. I climb in the back with her and find my shoes there. I start to put them on, but Vincent stops me.

"Here, at least wear socks." He hands me his socks and I don't refuse.

In the drive home, Veronica talks me about ballet. I listen intently, but occasionally glance at Vincent, who keeps his eyes glued to the road. He's silent the whole time, even when I say goodbye.

Once I'm home, I immediately rush upstairs and settle on my bed with Wilbur.

"Wilbur, I did the right thing, right? He won't hate me? I don't mean to hurt him. I did it for the best. For him and for Vivian," I meekly explain, my lip quivering. Tears start to trickle down and I bend my head down to let it drop onto my lap. I keep holding onto Wilbur, who pokes out his head, curious about my odd display of behavior. He slightly nibbles on my finger and watches as I continue to cry.