Post by Ian Fleming on Sept 14, 2012 18:53:45 GMT -5
Ian liked Wendy Palmer.
He liked talking to her. He liked thinking about her. He liked spending time with her. He liked seeing her smile. He liked hearing her laugh. He liked calling her “Wen.” He liked kissing her. He liked touching her. He liked looking into her eyes. He liked stroking her hair. He liked sleeping with her. He liked teasing her. He liked flirting with her. He liked sharing stories with her. He liked being silly with her. He liked the way she cuddled with him. He liked the way she massaged him. He liked the way she ran her fingers through his hair. He liked the way she paid attention to what he said. He liked the way she paid attention to what he didn’t say. He liked the way she cared about people. He liked the way she cared about him.
Ian really liked Wendy Palmer.
Being happy with her was easy. He had fun doing things with her, whether that involved playing drinking games or having snowball fights. He had fun talking to her, because they flirted a lot and much of their conversation was playful. It was the meaningful conversations, though, that helped him feel closer to her. And then there was the physical intimacy. He was attracted to her face and body, of course, but there was also something about her that made his attraction deeper than that. The first time they’d had sex—which was actually the second time they’d spent the night together—he’d told her, “You’re kind of beautiful, you know that?” She’d understood, somehow, taking it as the honest compliment he’d meant it to be and not interpreting it as an insult. That same night, he’d learned that Wendy liked cuddling with him in bed, and although that kind of physical affection wasn’t something he craved, he welcomed it nonetheless. Being with her was fun and exciting, but comfortable and secure at the same time. The intimacy between had them had developed the most over the Christmas holiday. That was when Ian had noticed that some of the things she did that meant the most to him were the little things, like decorating his house and taking an interest in his uncle’s love life. Wendy had such an easygoing nature that it would have been easy to assume that she didn’t take anything seriously, but he could see how deeply she cared about some things and how sensitive she could be. That one morning when she’d sneaked into his bed after having a bad dream, she’d asked him about his parents, which she’d known could have been a difficult subject for him to talk about. But she’d asked anyway, because she’d genuinely wanted to know who he was. Then, that afternoon, she’d found his photo album and surprised him by getting tears in her eyes as she looked through it. She’d realized that it had belonged to his mum, and she’d been moved by the love that had been in his family. He’d been extremely touched by her reaction, and that night, “kind of beautiful” finally became “so fucking beautiful.” He wouldn’t call her perfect, because he didn’t believe she was, but he definitely believed that she was beautiful. There was so much beauty in her empathy, there was so much beauty in her, that he couldn’t help being moved by her. She’d become very dear to his heart. He trusted her, and he felt a connection with her that kept growing every day.
By now, he could honestly and readily admit that Wendy was very important to him.
But today, Ian had heard something that, if it turned out to be true, might mean that he wasn’t as important to her. A little over an hour ago, Pippin had sent him a note during Ancient Runes class telling him that Wendy had kissed another guy. He couldn’t remember if she had said she’d actually seen them—no, she had. He knew it was possible that she had been mistaken, but he couldn’t count on it. And he believed her, despite the lack of details in her information. Pippin had no reason to lie to him about something like this, as far as he knew. And if she had lied to him, he would know after talking to Wendy. Maybe. Wendy was a good liar. But he’d been able to see when she was lying in the past. Would she lie to him about this? He didn’t know. He did know that he needed to talk to her as soon as possible, which was why he’d found her in the hallways between classes and asked her to meet him after her last class of the day—Divination, he remembered. Right now, he was standing in an empty corridor on the third floor, waiting for her to arrive. He didn’t know if he felt hurt yet, or what he would do if she told him it was true that she’d kissed someone else. But he did know that he didn’t want it to be. He had tried not to let the thought bother him too much just yet, but it did. He didn’t want Wendy to kiss other blokes, and he didn’t know why she would. He believed that Pippin had told him the truth, but he couldn’t understand it. There were so many ways to think about it that Ian couldn’t jump to conclusions. He didn’t know yet whether to consider it a betrayal. He didn’t know yet whether she believed their relationship was as serious as he did. He didn’t know yet whether—
There she was.
He almost wanted to smile, because that was his natural reaction to seeing her. But enough of him felt solemn enough that his lips remained in a straight line. He stayed standing where he was, watching her come toward him. His approach would be direct, because beating around the bush would just confuse and prolong the problem, if there was one. Ian felt his heart beat a little faster as she finally came abreast of him. As he looked into her eyes, his question came out blunt: “Wendy. Did you kiss someone else?”
He needed to know.
Wendy Palmer