Willow:

We were going to arrive in Chicago soon. We were told to come to a landing around ten-thirty. Annette and Caitlyn were asleep, while I was wide awake, thinking a lot about what Trace and I discussed. I couldn't stop thinking about it since Sunday, the day we discussed it. It wasn't even the lesbian thing. I wasn't that surprised about the lesbian thing. It was her questions regarding me and whether I was in love with Wyatt or not.

I would see him today. I had known that I'd see him today at some point after school ended. I was going to meet him there, in his classroom.

I wanted to hug him, kiss him, and invite myself to his place. I wanted to sit on his couch and watch television with him. I wanted him to want to sit on my couch, and watch television with me. I wanted to laugh with him and talk with him and go on adventures with him. I hadn't known if he was ready for us to become something real, but I was ready to dig deeper. I had been ready for less than forty-eight hours, now.

We had come to a landing at ten-thirty-two. I had woken Annette and Caitlyn up. Caitlyn had only muttered one cuss word before lazily standing to her feet. Annette was a bit groggy herself.

"We're going home, now, mommy?" Annette asked sleepily, as she lightly tugged on the sleeve of my sweatshirt. We were all wearing pajamas, and were pretty tired, physically. We'd had a busy few days.

"Yeah, sweetie. We're going home," I said through a sigh.

"Fuck if I'm not ready to sleep in my own bed," Caitlyn whispered close to my ear, so Annette wouldn't hear her.

I had known that Caitlyn was ready to be home. I was surprised she had put on such a great filter and watched her language in front of my parents. She was an amazing friend to me. She had been waiting for the past four days to lie around, settle her emotions with junk food, and suffocate under a pile of blankets in her own comfortable space. It was the break-up routine, but I had known it was permanent this time. Caitlyn had thought Brian was her forever, and I had thought so, too, at one point. He had proved to be a manipulating, cheating, low-life, money hungry, sorry excuse of a man - the list could go on forever, I knew.

I had thought she'd watch Annette without me having to ask, so I'd be able to see Wyatt. I was going to ask anyway, though, because it was the courteous thing to do. I also worried for Caitlyn. I hadn't known exactly how bad the break-up actually affected her.

After paying for parking, we had exited the airport before piling in my Jetta. Caitlyn had briefly taken me aback by hugging my neck tightly as we sat parked.

"What's up?" I asked her quietly, as I clutched her arms affectionately in response. She had seemingly hugged my neck tighter.

"I just love you so much. And I love little babe so much, too," she said. She had been referring to Annette as 'little babe'. "And I don't need Brian or any kind of stupid boyfriend, because I have you and I have little babe," she continued.

"We love you, too. We wouldn't know what to do without our Caitlyn," I smiled warmly. Annette had already been nodding off in the backseat, oblivious to my and Caitlyn's conversation. "And no, you don't need a boyfriend, and hell no, you definitely don't need Brian. He fades in comparison to the gum on the bottom of Annette's shoe."

There had been an old piece of gum on the bottom of Annette's sneaker that I noticed prior. It had definitely looked gross; it just wasn't as gross as Brian.

She laughed lightly as she released me, and then sat up in her seat. "You're such a ridiculous person, but I love that about you more than anything, you know that?" she questioned, grinning.

"I'm humorously blunt, and I'm just glad you put up with my insensitive sarcasm," I responded.

She sighed. "You always know how to make me feel better. Always."

"Ditto," I replied.

"Yeah, we both give each other good advice, huh?" she asked thoughtfully.

I nodded. "We're the best of friends," I quoted, half-smiling.

Caitlyn peeked behind her, and what she saw was Annette softly snoring in her slumber.

"Hell motherfucking yes," she responded, her voice still quiet.

We laughed together for a little while before I decided to take us all home, and prepare myself for Wyatt - my mind and my words.

3:36p.m.

I was sitting in the school parking lot. I had showered, put some decent clothes on, and even had done something different with my hair. Caitlyn insisted on curling it for me. She was happy to do it, and she was happy to watch Annette so I could do this. I had sandals on my feet, though it was quite cold outside. I stared at my French-tipped toenails for a moment in thought before getting out of the car.

When I made it to his classroom, it was empty and he was smiling and I was motionless as I stood there about a foot away from him.

What a handsome face he had.

"Did you read my note, Willow?" he asked. He was taking little itty bitty steps, closer and closer.

I closed his classroom door before I took a large, robotic step toward him and his suit; a half-smile had crept up my face. "Yep. Every word you wrote," I sighed. "And you know, I can be quite stylish, actually, and Wyatt, you should see me on movie nights. My manners need some work, but I'd like to think I'm not too terrible to be around."

"You're beautiful, Willow. You don't need to dress nicely to be yourself. One of my favorite things about you is the fact that you don't wear sticky lip-gloss or chalky lipstick. Because you're open to being Willow, I can't help but to admire you every second of each day, even when you're not around," he went on, and I rolled my eyes at his words, but I was smiling and I was happy.

We stood under the dimmed lights in his classroom, and I had figured the lights could go out at any minute... but I also figured Wyatt had weird preferences when it came to light bulbs for just days like today, too.

It was like a candlelight gathering, but in a classroom with just Wyatt and me, and it was romantic in a way, or at least that's what I thought to myself. His neat mahogany desk, his organized calendar, his 'strike' board for the bad kids, and his display board for the good kids were all there for me to see, and I loved that.

He grinned. "I'm definitely thinking about what nights will be ours, and Willow, I think about time and I think about you. I wonder what it'd be like to take you out on a date. I wonder about us so much, I can hardly ever sleep at night," he exhaled, and then he had rubbed his thumb across the tip of his chin, daring to move the short hairs settling there.

We were walking closer to one another simultaneously, while our faces were visibly full of lust and full of hope. Our bodies we believed were on fire. We felt like drama in real life. "I can hardly ever sleep through a night without dreaming," I said, as I then wrapped my arms around his waist. "About you," I whispered in clarification, and he tucked a curl behind my ear with his one hand.

"Yeah?" His curiosity lingered as his heat got close enough to fight my heat. We were flesh up against each other, now. "I just want to go somewhere, anywhere with you," he said, and then he kissed my temple. His nose was pressed to my hairline. "I wish your dreams with me could come true, whatever they might be."

I backed away a little so I could see his face. "But they can come true, Wyatt. We can make it real if we really want to. No more mysteries, seriously; we need to cut it out. No more cutesy notes. Let's just be irresponsible adults together, and possibly every day from this point on. Let's change our thoughts and dreams into actions," I explained, as I grabbed the back of his neck and looked him intently in the eyes. "If we're rooting for the same thing, we might as well act on it now, while we can," I whispered conclusively.

He smiled widely, then his warm lips briefly met mine. He nudged my nose with his, teasingly. "I was planning that all along, Willow. Sooner than you think, too. But I must say, your drive is a serious turn-on - sexier than your New Balance sneakers, even," he smirked that smirk that used turn me upside down with fuming anger, but his smirks and his sarcasm I was sincerely growing to love more and more.

"Wyatt," I exhaled deeply as I hitched my eyebrow. "My nurse shoes aren't a laughing matter. We're talking mandatory footwear."

He chuckled at my deadpan comment. "It's kind of funny, but maybe I need to let that one go," he shrugged. I felt his casted arm brush my thigh. "Either way, you'll always be my favorite nurse."

"Mhmm," I nodded, grinning. "I bet you're ready for that cast to come off," I said.

"Ten days," he breathed. "I'm ready for this hindrance to be removed, indeed."

I ran my hand over the white fiberglass cast that was covering his left arm as I let out a sigh. "You'll be able to do more with your hands," I murmured.

He raised his eyebrows. "Willow, are you being a pervert right now?" he asked, suddenly grinning so big I could see his gums.

I laughed lightly. "Um, no, not really."

"You are," he insisted. "What, was there something you had in mind when you said that?"

I shrugged. "Showering will be easier," I said simply.

He couldn't deny that, I knew, because I had witnessed it to be a serious annoyance for him and other patients.

"Well, obviously," he whispered. "But other things, too, like, I won't have to write with my right hand anymore."

"Ah," I smiled. "Is your hand-writing different when you write with your left hand?" I asked curiously.

He caressed the small of my back with his fingertips. "Completely different. A lot neater," he said.

I nodded. "Could have guessed that."

He pulled me to him. "What's that supposed to mean?" he questioned, his tone thick.

"It means you're neat," I said.

"Yeah? You're pretty neat, too, but, like, you're neat rather than the over-used word 'cool', though," he responded, his eyes darting around a little. His smile crooked on the side of his mouth, then.

My eyes slightly widened as my mouth formed into a small circle. "Wow, Wyatt. You don't look nearly as dorky as you truly are," I cooed, amused.

"And you truly can't take a compliment," he fired back. His eyebrows were raised, and his smile was cheeky.

I sighed. "Okay, try another one on me," I said in return.

"Are you sure you want me to?" he asked, his lips suddenly brushing my earlobe.

I nodded. "Yes, Wyatt."

He didn't waste a second.

"I can't count on my ten fingers how many different smiles I've seen on your face. One of the first one's was a fixed smile, which is a fake smile, but on you, it's still beautiful. You're always beautiful. But the smile I've seen on your face today, Willow? It's genuine. It's huge. It's the most wonderful thing I've ever seen and it's the only thing that has caused my heart to skip a beat in a way that feels right," he said, and my smile had gotten bigger, somehow, as he continued speaking, his mouth still barely touching my earlobe.

"I feel...jubilant when I'm with you. I don't remember what I used to feel like, because there's so much of you, now, and you're taking up my thoughts and giving me hope for good things and a drastically less depressing future. When it comes to compliments, this isn't all I have to say, Willow. There will always be more, because I find new things to say every day. Every day, Willow, I find new things to love about you."

We kissed for a while. It was an enthusiastic mouth-to-mouth action with a little bit of groping and a little bit of hair pulling - on my end. His words had always sent me into a completely dazed, tranced state. All I'd want to do would be to kiss him and kiss him, even when my lips were sore or swollen or both.

I hugged his waist after, sighing deeply, and I knew I had fallen a little bit in love with him as his arms tightened around me and his chin stopped just at the top of my head, resting there like it wanted to stay there.

5:07p.m.

I had driven to my apartment with Wyatt following behind me. It was the first time I realized that he drove an old Jeep Wrangler, colored a dull silver. When I had approached the vehicle after parking my car in my designated spot, I noticed the paint wasn't peeling, and when I got in through the passenger side, I saw that the interior was leather, nice, and definitely taken care of. It was Wyatt's vehicle, after all.

It was comfortable sitting there with him as he drove through Chicago's busy traffic. He was a calm driver, which calmed me. Usually, I was anxious during moments of silence, but I was surprisingly relaxed. We talked a lot about typical things, and I asked him what it was like driving with just his right hand.

"It's something I don't want to get used to," he had said.

Just a little after five o'clock, we were arriving to what I assumed to be his place, which was a small, cozy house. It was colored a midnight blue, but it looked almost black at this time. His lawn was a pretty green, and he had swingy windows. His space was probably smaller than my apartment's, even, but I liked looking at it.

"I don't want to take you to a movie. I don't want to take you to a restaurant. Today, I want to... teach you how to cook," he said to me, as we shut our doors in unison.

"What?" I scoffed. "How do you know I don't already know how to cook?" I challenged.

He chuckled at my defensive reply, but he hadn't faltered before saying, "You can't even microwave a pre-made breakfast proportionately. Some of my eggs were cold, you know."

I giggled at that comment. "Okay, fine. I don't cook actual meals much at all, so I guess I could use some lessons. Does this mean you can cook well, Wyatt?" I asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

He opened the door for me to enter the house as he said, "I'm alright, but I could be better. You know, if I could use my left hand." He was smiling as he shrugged.

I thought about his answer as we walked through his small living room, down an open hallway, and into his blindingly clean kitchen. I glanced at wooden cabinets painted white, gray countertops made of stone, and shiny wooden floors at my feet before the idea finally clicked in my head.

"Oh, wow..." I trailed off. "This is because you haven't had a real meal since you broke your elbow, isn't it?"

He blinked. "Uh, yes..." he paused. "I don't like being selfish with you or around you, but I know that you have always known that I'm selfish. I can never seem to shake that," he said, turning his head to wink at me.

He had put his one arm over my shoulder and squeezed me. He then kissed my temple, and a smile spread across my mouth as I leaned into him.

"It'll be fun," he shrugged.

"Well... it'll definitely be interesting," I said.

And it was both.

He taught me how to cook spaghetti without using ketchup. He was disappointed that I had developed the habit to put ketchup in spaghetti.

He was an excellent speaker with his instructions, and it made me wonder what he was like in the classroom, teaching his students.

I gutted tomatoes, chopped vegetables, and got familiar with seasonings for the first time. Wyatt was used to eating really healthy; he often stuck to a workout routine that he couldn't pull through with entirely since he had broken his elbow. It made him noticeably uneasy. He was so happy about the spaghetti, that it was amusing to me. He'd lean over my shoulder and smell the food absently.

When I laughed at his behavior, he'd scrunch his eyebrows at me, and would ask, "What's funny?"

"Is your favorite food spaghetti, or something?" I had asked him.

He simply said, "Yes," his tone nonchalant. His face presented a deadpan expression, and we soon laughed at each other, defeating the silence.

He put on a slow instrumental as I brought our plates and drinks out and into his living room. We were sitting on the couch, now, and he was eating his food as fast as he could with his right hand.

"This is delicious," he sighed in relief. "Thank you so much for this, Willow. You have no idea what it means to me."

"I think I have an idea," I smiled.

He studied me in between his quick bites. I was eating rather slowly.

"What idea would that be?" he questioned.

I sipped on my water. "You needed this," I said, half-shrugging. "And you needed me to help you."

He tilted his head to the side, smiling widely, so I could see the spaghetti sauce settling in the corners of his mouth. "You're right, and I don't know how I'll be able make it up to you. Everything you've done for me, like... I feel bad for treating you like an incompetent babysitter. I suck, honestly. I don't know why you like me, Willow," he said, suddenly grinning before stuffing more noodles in his mouth.

I shook my head lightly, gazing up at him.

"I like you because I like you, Wyatt. I like the way you adapt to things you like yourself. I like your words and your views. I like you because you're a likable person, and I simply had no choice. It just happened, and I like that it did."

He smiled, just slightly biting his lip. "We're just random people doing random things while also randomly falling for each other, and I assume - we're both enjoying every minute of it. Don't you agree?" he raised his eyebrows. He was swirling the last of his spaghetti around his fork as he spoke.

I chuckled under my breath. "That was random."

"Ah, but Willow, I asked you a question," he raised his voice, teasing me.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Wyatt. Everything, everyone, actions, and feelings, yes - they're all undeniably random. And yes, Wyatt, I enjoy being random with you. It's close to one of my favorite things to do."

"Willow," he said my name softly as he quietly placed his fork on his empty plate. "I just want to say this because I haven't said it yet. Annette is the brightest young girl I've ever taught in my lifetime. She reminds me a lot of you because of her features, but her personality is unique. A practically flawless brain that girl has, and I know your favorite thing to do is to spend time with your daughter. And you know, I understand wholeheartedly. I have never met any other human-being quite that pleasant to be around."

My eyes had squinted at the corners; my smile was so huge. At that moment, I knew that Wyatt's words had a big impact on my heart and its ability to love him just a little bit at a time. "My daughter has had all of my attention since she was born, but tonight I decided to spend my time with you. And I'm inviting myself over again, just so you know. Tonight's not the only night," I said, winking awkwardly before immediately regretting it.

He hadn't seemed to mind the wink. If anything, he appreciated it. "I'll have to clear a drawer just for you," he smirked. He pulled me to him, causing my body to hum. My chest pressed to his side as I met his gaze.

"I really like your suit, Wyatt. I mean, I like it a lot, don't get me wrong, but... why would you wear such a nice suit to work?" I asked curiously. I was running my hand down the front of his suit.

He snaked his right arm around my waist. As I leaned further into him, I noticed his aroma wasn't boyish at all, and I loved that.

"You'll laugh, but I don't care anymore. I wore the suit specifically for you, Willow," he admitted. "A few other teachers stared, but they minded their own business."

I chortled. "You look nice. You look nice even when you have spaghetti sauce around your mouth."

He scoffed. "Well, eating spaghetti usually results to a mess, especially around the food entrance."

"The food entrance?" I snickered.

"Well, yeah," he said. "Unless you're bulimic."

"Or anorexic," I pointed out.

"The two go hand and hand, really," he shrugged.

I grabbed his napkin off of the coffee table and wiped his face with it.

"Like old times," he teased.

"Not that old of times," I retorted.

"True," he exhaled.

I placed the used napkin on his plate, and then turned to face him. "You have good taste in music. Not many people do."

"Oh, you like this?" he smiled. "Yeah, I prefer slow and meaningful over, you know... garbage."

"We'll get along just fine, then."

"Someone's taste in music says a lot about them as a person," he pointed out.

"Unless you're a psychotic killer," I commented absently.

His body stilled. "I don't know," he said dryly. "My father's taste was fairly simplistic."

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly. "I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay, Willow."

I had said the wrong thing.

We were silent as we brought our dishes to the kitchen. We hadn't talked about his past since that day at the hospital, and I sensed he didn't want to talk about it some more tonight.

He put the last dish on the rack before I grabbed his shoulder, so he'd turn around and face me.

"I'm too caustic with you, and sometimes I come off as an asshole, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being ignorant, and I apologize now for the stupid shit I'll say later."

He grabbed my waist with his one hand and pulled me to him, his lips touching my forehead. "I know you weren't referring to anyone in particular. You didn't do anything wrong, and I shouldn't have made that comment," he replied sternly.

He kissed me on the lips hard, and I kissed him back just as forcefully.

"Okay," I whispered.

We had gone back in the living room after that, and he acted as if I hadn't just struck a nerve in him. Or maybe he was able to let it go that quickly, I hadn't known. I was able to relax once he put a movie on. He had brought a bottle of wine out along with two wine glasses. I loved being comfortable with Wyatt. We were so comfortable; we eventually fell asleep there on the couch. We were random, but we liked it that way. His chin settled on the top of my head, my arms around him, and my legs crossed over his. I hadn't needed to be awake to know we were both smiling.

***

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