By the time we had the basic framework, it was dark outside and I was ready to curl into a ball and fall asleep. Preferably in Wilder's lap. I took in deep breaths, his comforting, familiar scent setting me at ease. I gazed silently at his hair, recalling how it had felt between my fingers, his strong jaw, his enticing, perfect lips. Wilder had been the subject of many of my journals before, pretty embarrassing ones I would say. 

He sighed deeply and combed his fingers through his hair, gazing at me with sunken eyes. "This is why I gave up coding. A fucking semi-colon makes you want to cry."

I chuckled at the indignation in his voice. "Yep, but it's pretty rewarding."

I looked at the screen which now had the simple layout of a website, the name written in bold letters. 'Heady' in a soft blue and 'Lines' colourful. He had added a section for the introduction which I had been too lazy to write just yet. He had also added an index and a link, but it still looked like a webpage from the 2000s. Something that wouldn't change till he applied CSS. I looked at him, my cheeks burning at the proximity. "Um...thanks."

He was quiet before he shut the laptop and glanced at me, a soft smile on his face. His eyes travelled to my hair and my heart jumped to my throat when he reached for it, playing with my curls as his eyes lit up mischievously. "How the fuck did you get that glue out? Sounds like an ordeal."

I had to remind myself to breathe. Was this normal? Did Wilder play with other people's hair?

Maybe.

"Conditioner," I replied, my voice strained and shaky. "Yeah, it was gross."

"For the record, I do think you were incredible there, Evans," he said. My heart sunk a little when he didn't call me by my first name. "I...I would never have the courage to do that. Just stand up straight and...walk away smiling like that. It was such a slap to their faces. A 'mic drop' moment if you will."

I felt my cheeks heating up. I hadn't thought of what I had done as incredible. I just knew that they wanted me to run, or be angry, maybe even pick a fight. But I had never been good with fights and it had just seemed better to make fun of myself before they made fun of me.

Self-deprecation was actually an under-appreciated ninja technique.

He gazed at me intently for a while before turning his face away. Before he did, I thought I almost saw a dark shadow behind his eyes, a twinge of pain pass across his features.

He glanced at his wristwatch, his eyes widening slightly. "Whoa. It's past dinner."

I gazed at the time on the monitor and saw that it was eight. I realized with a jolt that I had spent well over two hours just staring at Wilder and realized with an even greater jolt that I would love to continue. He slowly rose to his feet as my heart sunk and I spoke without thinking, "You could have dinner here."

He blinked before shaking his head awkwardly. "Er...no. It'll be weird."

"My mom and dad are working late and Kay is probably with her friends. My mom left some fried chicken."

He was quiet for a while before a mischievous sparkle appeared in his eyes. He rose to his feet and spoke, "Okay. I'll stay if you let me cook."

I gazed at him. "Huh?"

He smiled playfully and started walking out of the room, calling after him. "You'll see."

We made our way downstairs and I sat on the kitchen counter as he busied himself around like he knew where everything was kept. When I came to think of it, he probably did.

"Do you have corn starch?" he asked, gently shoving Arfie away with his foot as the food slut wandered around his legs, gazing upwards and whining like we starved him for years.

I nodded and pointed at the top shelf. He reached towards it, catching hold of it easily. Usually for me, reaching the top shelf for anything was an ordeal that ended in one strained neck and a few pulled nerves. But the sense of pride I had when I was finally able to get something off the topmost shelf was unparalleled. Tall people like Wilder would never understand the sheer joy.

He picked some potatoes from the basket and handed them to me. "Boil and mash."

I did as I was told, still confused. From the corner of my eye, I watched as he kneaded some flour, seasoning, oil, salt, chilly flakes, corn starch, corn and grated the cheese. He added the potatoes I had expertly mashed. His taut muscles in his arms rippled as he worked, his eyes focussed. His habit of chewing his own tongue when he was thinking hadn't changed.

He looked like a dream and it was hard for me to see him suddenly so at ease. Maybe he hadn't changed. Maybe we had simply grown distant. So much so that I had forgotten what he was really like.

The thought pierced my heart with a white-hot dagger. I tried to keep my voice steady, bewildered at the overwhelming emotions in my chest. "Um...what are you making?"

He grinned. "You'll see!"

I watched silently as he kneaded the dough and divided it into two. Creating long sausage rolls out of them and covered them with aluminium foil. After he was done, he washed his hands and sighed. His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Any guesses as to what I am making?"

I gazed around at the mildly littered kitchen and shook my head. In all honestly, I had been too intent on staring at him as he worked. I knew Wilder had a penchant for cooking. However, ever since getting into sports, his mother held a strict regime against any kinds of junk foods. He had often used my kitchen instead to tend to his culinary fantasies.

"It's potato nuggets, Nicola," he said and my heart jumped out of my throat, finally succumbing to Wilder Collins.

He said 'Nicola' in a way so much different than others did. Softly. Like a sweet caress. Akin to the soft melody of joyous birds twittering gaily in spring. Parallel to the calming rain as it played a symphony on its voyage from the clouds to the earth.

Or maybe I was simply overthinking again. Desperate for any sign that I was special to him.

I had always detested my name. Hated how feminine it sounded which barely helped the doormat image I had created for myself. In the twisted society, I had never been 'manly' enough.

But somehow from his mouth, I wanted to hear more of it. Coupled with the fact that he was making 'Nuggets', made my heart beat at a rate that I was sure was unhealthy. Although, I knew I was thinking too much. No way he would remember that little, insignificant thing.

"Don't call me that," I muttered out of habit as he grinned.

He glanced at his watch again and spoke, "We have an hour before it's ready. Well... I do feel hungry but I'll wait."

I nodded as he placed the foiled rolls in the freezer. I opened my mouth to speak, feeling bolder now that he hadn't pushed me away. "Do you want to watch-"

"Madagascar?" He wiggled his brows playfully and my heart jumped to my throat. I opened my mouth to answer in affirmative as his phone rang. His brows furrowed, a twinge of anxiety flashing across his chiselled features when he reached for it. He glanced at me once before shaking his head apologetically and answering the phone. "Hey, babe."

Kendra.

I sighed, climbing down from the counter as he moved to the couch, talking softly into the phone. I knew it would take time and decided to go back to my room and maybe listen to some music in the meantime. I could hear him talking in a gentle, soothing voice. A side he reserved exclusively for those he dated. A side I would never get to see.

I lay flat on my face on the bed when I reached my room, my heart aching. The last few hours had felt like a dream and Kendra's call had been my wake up call.

I knew Wilder was a lot of things, but I couldn't imagine him cheating on those that he dated. Even though I loved the attention he was showering me with, I felt guilty. Kendra deserved his loyalty. No matter how much I liked him, she was the one who was with him at the end of the day.

I decided to call Camden, just for something to do. He picked up the phone on the third ring.

"Nico, what's up?"

"Hey, Cam," I began and sighed softly. "Er...nothing."

I didn't know why I hadn't told him that Wilder was at my place. I was afraid I would make an even bigger fool of myself. "What are you-"

I stopped speaking when I heard Rayleigh laughing in the background. I asked, surprised, "You're with Ray?"

"Er, yeah, we're at the cinemas," he spoke awkwardly, rushing into the next sentence. "We would have invited you but...something's been up with her lately and I-"

"Have fun." I hung up and buried my face in the pillow. For a long time now I had a feeling that something was going on between Cam and Ray. Although I had foolishly hoped that if they did ever get together, they would have the courtesy to let me know.

But then, I had a way of making myself disposable.

I listened to electronic music for a while, vivid imageries playing in my head. I wondered what would have happened if I hadn't confessed to Wilder? Would we still be close? I doubted I could remain his best friend while he dated others. Even now, I was in pain. There was no way I could bear looking at him wrapped around another person without me being ripped apart. 

Maybe I was a selfish, shallow person for not being happy for him. But I wasn't so noble. I wanted Wilder Collins for myself. But I knew it was a distant reality, and knowing that maybe someday I could be happy for him. For now, I simply wanted to be left alone to lament.

Being happy for someone as opposed to just being happy. The difference was more profound than we ever truly realized.  

After a little more than half an hour, I felt a nudge on my shoulder and saw Wilder leaning over me. He gestured towards the door as my heart sank further. How was he even more beautiful every time I saw him? How was he even real when he looked like a fantasy? When he made me feel like I was in one?

A while later, I walked downstairs and sat at the dining table, leaning on it and placing my head on the hard wood. I gazed at him silently as he worked. There was another half an hour of scattered small talk. I was still astounded by how easy it all felt.

I could soon smell the delicious smell of garlic wafting to nose. It lifted my spirits a little as he removed the tray from the freezer and cut the sausage into smaller pieces, frying them and neatly laying down on a tissue on a plate before finally presenting it to me. He grinned proudly.

I picked up a little golden-brown nugget and bit into it. The delectable taste exploded in my mouth and I stared at him, stunned. He took a bite and moaned softly. "Man. I'm good."

I started laughing at his modesty and he leaned back to smile at me. "Modesty is overrated, Evans."

"Sure," I said, leaning for another piece. I grinned at the excessive cheese oozing out of the nugget. "You're still such a hoe for cheese."

He shrugged. "I'm not allowed it at home," I felt a pang in my chest at the sadness in his voice. He was an absolute beast on the football ground, but there weren't many who knew how much hard work he put into it. Training relentlessly every day. Following a strict regime. I knew he wanted to go national and maybe international someday, and he was committed. Something that made him infinitely hotter to me.

"Besides," he said, the mischievous glint back in his eyes as he looked at me. "You only like it less because your stomach won't agree with it."

I gazed at him open-mouthed even as my heart lurched painfully. How the fuck did he remember every little detail about me?

I kicked him under the table gently and he grimaced in feigned pain. "Ow. Fucking nugget kick."

I gaped at him, my stomach knotting in anxiety. As a twisted joke and in a bid to make fun of my much smaller frame, he had called me 'nugget', 'nug',  or any version of the deplorable word. And anytime I did something, it had always been 'Nugget- followed by- the deed I had committed.' He had remembered. That was why he chose to make nuggets today.

My heart.

I was afraid my heart wouldn't survive till the end of the night.

I was stunned to see an unmistakable blush on his face. He looked flustered and quickly tried to mask it by taking a large bite of the nugget and chewing deliberately, looking at anywhere but me.

"Only on an empty stomach," I answered softly, my heart fluttering. I gazed at him as he looked back, raising an eyebrow in question. "Like...my stomach doesn't agree with cheese...if I eat it on an empty stomach."

He smiled. "I know. You can't have tea or any acidic stuff on an empty stomach either."

"I can..." I said, my voice strained. An entire storm of emotions raged in my chest. "I'll just...get heartburn."

"Yes," he smirked. "Just as I can get hit by a bus. I'll just break my spine."

He gazed at me silently, his eyes pulling me in. I could see the conflicting emotions behind his cataclysmically dark irises. Some agony. Some grief. Did he regret losing our friendship as well? No. There was no way. He was in with the most popular clique. I would have merely held him down.

The moment somehow felt profound. Like time had stopped. I felt breathless, even though he was a good six feet away from me.

We started when we heard the sound of the door opening. Wilder's eyes widened in shock. I heard footsteps I recognized as my mom's and sure enough, she appeared in the kitchen a while later. Wilder rose to his feet, breathing hard as if agitated. I stared at him, slightly puzzled. I had never told my mom what exactly had gone down between us, but she knew that we had fallen apart. Somehow, she had always blamed Wilder and probably wouldn't approve of him coming back into my life. Even though she didn't know the extent of my heartbreak, she knew I was pretty shaken.

"Wilder," she said, her voice uncharacteristically cold. She crossed her arms in front of her chest as her eyes flashed. "Long time no see?"

"Er...yeah. Hi, Mrs Evans," he said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. He glanced at me once and I was stunned to see his flushed cheeks. "I was just-"

"We were working on something mom," I said quickly. I wasn't keen on the idea of my mom yelling at him and making things awkward when they finally seemed to be getting better. "I was j-"

"Working on what, honey?" she asked me, raising her eyebrows in mild surprise. 

"This...this website thing we are trying to create. For school." I finished vaguely.

She sighed and took a deep breath. "Is it done?"

"We just-"

"Is it done, Nicola?" I hated the way her voice rose, firmly. Inviting no arguments. I knew she was protective of me and didn't approve of Wilder, especially after how he had left things between us. I shuddered to think what she would do to him if she knew I had cried myself to sleep night after night and suffocated under the weight of my broken heart before finally learning to live with it.

"Yeah," Wilder answered unexpectedly. "I was just...leaving." He looked at me once, speaking hurriedly. "Er, bye, Evans."

Without a second glance at me, he left the kitchen. I gaped after him, a hollow in my heart. To my horror, I saw my mother stride after him and sprang to my feet. I ran after her but saw the main door shut already. I cursed under my breath and pulled at it, but of course, it was locked from outside. I sighed and rested my ear against the door, straining to listen to her telling him off. Nothing caught my ear except some muffled, incoherent words. 

After a while, the door opened and I staggered backwards. My mom stood on the other side and gave me a friendly enough smile.

"Mom," I began, trying to crane my neck to look beyond her but failing to see anything except her hair blocking my vision. "Mom, what the hell? What did you say to him?"

Her eyes flashed. "That isn't your concern."

I gaped at her as she went back into the kitchen. I followed her and stood near the entry. She poured herself a drink of water and I decided to try again. "Mom, he was trying to help me. We were working-"

"You do not need him to help you, honey. You are smart enough. I know that," she replied dismissively as she took a long sip of water.

"Mom, I..."

"I remember what happened last time, Nicola. You know I do not approve of him."

I felt anger rising in my chest. "Mom, that is my own discretion. I am capable enough to make a judgement on my own. I don't need you to swoop in and chase my friends away."

"You do not need friends like him, Nicola," she said, her voice suddenly softer. I saw a twinge of sadness behind her eyes as they darkened. I felt suddenly guilty. I knew she was trying to protect me, but I didn't want her to scare Wilder away. "I just-" her voice broke. "I am only trying to protect you, honey. You have lots of other friends-"

"Yes," I said, balling my fists. My entire body heated up with anger as I trembled in rage. "Yeah, friends you approve of mom. Maybe I should have you stamp them with 'ok tested' or something before I invite them over."

Her face registered shock as her eyes widened. I turned and stomped away to my room, shutting the door behind me as Arfie entered after me. He sat near the door, gazing at me intently. His ears were perked and he tilted his head slightly to the side, as if questioning. But I already knew that he at least approved of Wilder.

I sighed and plopped myself on the bed, reaching for my phone and dialling his number. It rang for a long time before I hung up. I sighed and tried again. Again. My stomach twisting more and more uncomfortably with each unanswered ring. Were things between us fucked up now? Just when I thought they were going to be better? 

I sighed and lay down in my bed, gazing upwards as dusk transcended to night in timeless hours and the ceiling became as dark and dreary as my sinking heart.

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So...that was weird. Although, mothers are rarely wrong about your friends. I know mine has never been wrong lol what about you guys?

If you do like it so far, please do vote! It really encourages me and helps Nico's story to read a wider audience!