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Wednesday’s eye was starting to twitch.
It had been ten minutes in, and people were already yelling; she was certain she had heard a crashing sound from the backyard.
“It’s a high school party, and it's senior year. You like, have to be there.”
“I’ll go only if it ends the way The Slumber Party Masacre does,”
Bianca gawked. “...right”
In the end, it didn't matter how many macabre movie references Wednesday threw around at the mention of the party, because somehow she let herself be convinced, and unfortunately, underestimated how long it would take before she wished not only violence against her peers, but against herself.
It smelled of teenage hormones and cheap alcohol as Wednesday had shifted around the room, eventually finding a corner to slither into and stand uncomfortably.
There was a beer in her hand.
She didn't have a choice but to carry it as some overly excited girl shoved it in her hands, gesturing her to follow her to meet her friends, to which Wednesday, of course, didn't.
The music was too loud.
She could feel the bass vibrating against the wall where she stood, each shake having her grip the beer even tighter, eyes making a point to avoid every soul in the room. This wasn't her scene.
But Bianca was her friend, and she had done some sort of character development in that area over the years, at least she was told. The least she could do was tolerate it and not engage. It typically worked.
It had been another five minutes exactly; Wednesday was counting. She needed to stay at least half an hour to tell Bianca she tried before finding an excuse to leave early.
Two bodies crashed into the wall beside her, the sound of obnoxious kissing causing bile to rise in her throat.
New destination.
She moved through the crowd with precision despite not having a single clue where she was going.
The kitchen was crowded; people were congregating in the middle, pouring shots into each other's mouths like some ritualistic act of animals. It was disturbing.
Her eyes slid to the sliding doors adjacent to the couch in the living room.
As her free hand moved to slide it open, that same moment, someone crashed directly into her.
At least this one wasn't a couple eating each other’s face off, and instead a—
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”
Just a girl.
The girl had her hand cupped over her mouth, and her tone was dramatic, given the situation.
“I swear it was a total accident, my brain moves faster than I can think sometimes, and—”
“It’s fine.” Wednesday cut her off; a scowl had been forming, but the girl looked genuinely troubled.
Her hair was mostly blonde, with tips an array of pink and blue.
It’s distasteful. Wednesday’s eyes lingered.
The girl’s eyes dipped down. “But…your shirt…”
There was a small wet stain where her eyes landed.
“Good thing I own more than one,” Wednesday shifted, enough to set the bottle on a table beside them.
It wasn't meant as a joke, and Wednesday’s eyes weren’t set to meet the girl’s gaze again, but she giggled, and her eyes were blue; she could see that clearly now.
Trivial things, really.
“I don't think I’ve seen you around school before…?”
Wednesday’s eyes dulled. “You haven't.”
I haven't seen you either, her inner voice spoke.
The girl practically bounced and extended her hand. It was clumsy, and Wednesday wondered if the girl was slightly drunk or if she always acted this way.
“Oh, well, terrible first impression on my part, but I’m E—”
“There you are, girl! I literally thought you ditched me, and I was so mad because we haven't even played beer pong yet, and—” Bianca stopped.
“Oh, hey Enid! You know Wednesday?”
Enid.
Wednesday moved her eyes. They landed on a game of water volleyball that was being played in the pool.
“Well, we sort of just met, actually. Totally spilled beer on her…”
Bianca chuckled. “And you're still standing, point for Sinclair.”
Wednesday didn't shift her gaze. She only had two things on her mind at the moment.
One, she was still awkwardly standing in the middle of the doorway with beer on her shirt, and she still really didn't want to be here.
Two, the girl was still standing in front of her, and her name was Enid; her cheeks were flushed, and the tips of her hair were pink and blue.
She didn't know who she was and had a curiosity about Bianca knowing who she was.
It didn't matter, and the music was still too loud.
“Wanna join us for beer pong?”
Wednesday’s eye twitched again. She could only hope the girl, Enid, would tell her no, and that would leave Wednesday with an opportunity to give Bianca her excuse for why she needed to leave.
Enid smiled widely.
She’d only watch; that was the condition.
Bianca rolled her eyes at her, and they shuffled outside anyway.
She was surrounded by people she didn't know, one person she did know, and one person she had just met. It wasn't exactly the recipe for a fun night of drinking. She never cared for alcohol anyway. It rearranged everything about you, and Wednesday was not one to be rearranged.
She found a chair and sat.
There were tiny moments where Wednesday almost wished she could be able to find these teenage rights of passage fun. Everyone was so painfully unaware that she thinks that might be a better way to live. She watches someone almost choke on a golf ball they forgot to remove from the cup before drinking from it, and the thought quickly dissipates.
Her eyes caught Enid when it was her turn.
She was wearing a pink crop top and a neon green skirt.
The colors are awful together, Wednesday thinks. Her eyes settle on her, anyway.
She was the epitome of a giggling schoolgirl, and the thought almost made Wednesday scoff. It had made perfect sense why she never met her. In what world would they meet?
Her cheeks were flushed a shade darker, she could tell from here. She blames the way the LED lights from the pool were directly hitting her face for why she didn't look away.
Enid, somewhere along the way, caught her eyes.
Wednesday looked away.
She needed to leave, she thought to herself.
Unfortunately, someone walks over and sits beside her.
The name is on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't look to her right yet.
“Not much of a party girl?”
Wednesday didn't give a response. Her head was starting to hurt, and she hated small talk.
There was an uncomfortable beat of silence.
“Hey, I hope you're not mad about me spilling—”
“I’m not.”
Wednesday didn't move her head entirely, just enough to cast her eyes on the subject.
Enid’s cheeks were rosy red, and her hair looked messy. She was definitely drunk.
Wednesday narrowed her eyes before looking away. “You’re red.”
She doesn't know why she made the commentary; surely Enid knew, surely it wasn't contributing to great conversation-making, either.
“Yeah, I might've helped myself to a few drinks,” Enid laughed. “It's okay, though, not like I have anywhere to be. Perks of throwing house parties,”
This was her house.
Bianca hadn't mentioned this girl or that it was her house.
Wednesday reminded herself it didn't matter. Her hands clenched at her sides. “So…what's your name?”
Wednesday had debated getting up and walking away. More small talk, a stronger headache, and more twitching were all that would come out of this. But her eyes glanced to Bianca, who had her head thrown back in a fit of laughter and hands around some boy.
She stayed.
“Wednesday.” She replied.
Her eyes dragged back to Enid, who looked quite relaxed, and her eyes were wide and watching her. Her hands were fiddling in her lap like she was dying to be picked on in class because she just knew the answer.
“Wednesday…” Enid’s lips tilted up. “I like you.”
Oh.
Wednesday blinked.
Enid looked like she had seen a ghost and brought her hands up in her defense. “Oh my god, it. I meant it as in your name because it's like, super unique, you know? Not you…I mean, not that I wouldn't like you—oh my god I’ll just shut up forever.”
Wednesday hadn’t had a drink, but her face felt oddly warm, and she despised it, eyes averting to anything else.
Yes, you really should, she thought to herself.
There was more awkward silence that followed, and Wednesday wondered if Enid wasn't lying about never talking again. Her hands were fiddling again, her body language was still screaming, and she had more to say.
“Enid!”
A boy appeared in front of them, adorning a black and purple varsity jacket. A football player. His smile was aimed almost harshly at Enid. Wednesday’s eyes settled on her again.
“Oh, hey, Bruno.” Enid smiled back, not as wide, but it was still there.
“Wanna come with and the rest of the team upstairs? Ajax is about to attempt karaoke, and I erased a shit ton of pictures from my phone to clear up storage for this.”
“Uh,” Enid glanced at her quickly, then back. “Yeah, sure.”
As soon as Enid had stood up, the boy, Bruno, immediately flung an arm around her shoulders and wore a smirk that Wednesday’s eyes narrowed at.
She didn't like the guy, she decided.
She didn’t see the appeal.
Uncomfortable thoughts aside, she turned back to the latest with the game of peer pong.
“Well, I’ll see you around at school, Wednesday?”
Wednesday didn't move. “You won't."
When Bianca approached her later, she nudged her. “Can't believe Enid survived an interaction with you.”
The walk to her car felt like an eternity. Her keys felt heavy in her pocket. She didn't know why, but she didn't want to bring up the girl.
“Stranger things have happened,”
Scoffing, Bianca threw her head back. “Right. Well, maybe you should try to be friends with her. She's super sweet, not like the typical stuck-up cheerleaders in the movies.”
“Cheerleader,” Wednesday repeated.
“Uh, yeah. She’s the captain.”
Something clicked in Wednesday’s brain. It was sort of comical. Of course, she was.
It dimmed her mood that much more as she turned the key in the ignition.
Bianca was talking a lot. Though Wednesday sat and listened to her friends' intoxicated ramblings on high school dynamics, there was one name that sat uncomfortably in a small space in the back of her brain.
Enid Sinclair.
Avoiding people was something that came naturally for Wednesday. It wasn't even conscious decision-making anymore; she just evaded people successfully, and given her disposition, it wasn't like she had a neon sign that said ‘be friends with me’. It was more of a warning label. And instead it would read ‘try to be my friend. I dare you.’
It was a bulletproof system.
Shoving her books in her locker, a familiar chiming laugh caused a stutter in movement. She didn't look up.
Not until she heard a lower voice, one she recognized as well, did she drag her eyes to her side.
Enid was leaning against her locker, the same boy from the party in front of her with his hand on the locker next to her head. He wore the same smirk she saw at the party, and the same distaste for him bubbles up to the surface. Enid looked off next to him. Like she was some delicate flower suffocated by stubborn weeds. She had his letterman jacket draped over her shoulders; she might've looked flattering if it were someone else’s. Her smile was soft and simple.
Five seconds, Wednesday gave herself just five seconds to look.
Enid caught her on the fifth.
Something shifted in the air. Her smile faltered just enough to be noticeable. Her shoulders sagged a millimeter, following her eyes.
Wednesday looked away and walked through the hallway without looking back, but she was all too aware of the blue eyes following her the entire time.
She'd rather be burned at the stake than admit it aloud, but her bulletproof system was failing. Enid stuck out like a sore thumb, impossible not to notice, ever since their first encounter.
She didn't plan on interacting with Enid again.
And she got away with it for a while.
But then there were the stolen glances between classes, eyes latching on to each other like gravity itself pulled them. Sometimes Enid would be alone, sometimes Bruno was at her side, the predatory look on his face that made Wednesday’s stomach churn, and not in an enjoyable way.
There was something beneath the surface, wound tighter each time she looked at her, but Wednesday would rather let it strangle her to death than do anything about it.
“Whatever, The Notebook is a classic display of true romance. I mean, when he builds her the house he promised her, are you kidding?”
Wednesday dulled, slipping her bag over her shoulder. “I prefer Wuthering Heights.”
“Are you joking? They're so toxic together!”
“Exactly. Love is toxic.”
Bianca blinked at her and shook her head. “You're never gonna get laid with that attitude,” She muttered under her breath.
“Oh no, how will I go on?” Wednesday deadpanned.
As they followed behind the rest of the students shuffling out of class, a body cut them off before they could turn the corner.
“Wednesday, hey!”
Wednesday’s grip on her backpack strap tightened. Bianca side-eyed her.
“Enid.”
She looked shy, like she was given some dare to come up to talk to her.
“Can I talk to you for a sec?”
The correct answer should be no. She had one more class before the day ended, and she wanted this interaction to be over. Especially when she could feel Bianca’s gaze moving between them like a pendulum, waiting.
She hesitated too long.
“I’ll catch you later.” She leaned over to tell her, then turned. “You look super cute today, Enid!”
Wednesday worked her jaw for a split second as she saw Bianca shoot her a look before following the sea of students.
Unfortunately, the comment caused her eyes to glance down for a split second, hopefully before Enid caught her.
She wore a blue and pink striped V-neck, a long-sleeved pink shirt underneath with flowery patterns. Her choker wore the same colors. She looked like cotton candy personified.
It was not cute.
“So, I was thinking…” Enid rocked back on her heels and averted her eyes; her hands came behind her back.
Wednesday raised a brow.
“Well, maybe you could come watch the team practice after school? We have the homecoming game soon, and the routine’s like this huge thing and—”
There it was, the rambling.
Wednesday didn't say anything; instead watched curiously as Enid’s face flushed and her eyes darted around. Why was she so nervous?
“I know it's not your scene, but uh, just thought I’d invite you. Sometimes a change of scenery is good, right?”
Wednesday wanted to say, No, it's never good.
What came out instead was, “Okay.”
Enid’s eyes widened a fraction. “Okay?”
“Was that all?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Without another word, Wednesday walked past her, biting the inside of her cheek, wondering why she’d agreed.
She tried to get Bianca to accompany her, but she said she had some sort of ‘last-minute project to finish up’—Wednesday didn't believe it for a second.
So now, here she was.
She opted for a seat all the way at the top of the bleachers in the corner, the furthest away she could get from the field. There were some students piled in the first two rows, chatting obnoxiously.
Taking out her sketchbook, Wednesday settled it on her lap, pen hesitating on the paper as she contemplated what to draw. She agreed to go to the practice, not to watch.
She didn't think it would be that difficult to keep her attention elsewhere, but then she heard the cheers from her peers and couldn't help but tilt her head towards the field, eyes almost immediately catching Enid.
Even from where she sat, she could see her smile, jogging with her purple, black, and white uniform. It was strange how natural she seemed down there. Even when addressing the team, she seemed completely in her element.
Wednesday couldn't rip her eyes away. When she tried, she kept drifting back to her, only able to sketch a few lines every minute or two due to her focus elsewhere.
The routine was more complicated than Wednesday had anticipated.
It was a full-fledged dance piece, and it didn't look easy either. Enid was front and center, her feet moved in perfect routine; it would be nearly offensive to look at anyone else. Her face was focused but carefree at the same time, like she could do this in her sleep.
Wednesday tightened her grip on her pen.
She downplayed her talent; Wednesday wondered why.
Once it was over and the cheering died down, she was ready to put her sketchbook back in her bag, until she looked down to see what she had drawn.
It was a person’s face.
A person's face that looked awfully close to Enid.
Wednesday blinked and stuffed it away, hoping the image would dissipate not only from the book but from her mind as well.
She couldn't get out of there fast enough.
She didn't get to make it that far because Enid was in front of her when she was halfway down the bleachers.
“You actually came! What’d you think?”
She was bouncing on her heels again, and Wednesday wondered how she still seemed to be full of energy after practically doing acrobatics—it was unruly.
Blonde wisps of hair were sticking to her face, while others were flared out, messy, but it looked good. And now she could see the sweat droplets on her forehead, and the sweat on her neck was glistening in the sunlight.
Wednesday faltered.
A beat, then two, halfway to three, until Enid spoke again, her face fell just a tiny amount. “That bad?”
“No.”
Wednesday answered too quickly.
It felt like they were in a classroom with how suffocated she was starting to feel; she could feel warmth crawling up her neck and did everything in her power to keep it from reaching her face.
“I…enjoyed it.”
The grin that broke out on Enid’s face might as well have been a dagger aimed straight for her jugular—she had to look away.
“Well,” Enid wiped at her forehead, and Wednesday pretended not to stare. “You’re welcome to come watch anytime. I kinda like the whole brooding mysterious thing you have going on, it's cute.”
Wednesday cleared her throat and sidestepped her.
She really needed to get the hell away from Enid Sinclair.
Marching down the bleachers, she made her way down, finally felt slight relief when her feet touched the grass.
It didn't last long, though.
Bruno rushed past her, up the same steps she had just flown down, and her eyes betrayed her, watching as he ran to scoop Enid into his arms.
Wednesday left before she could see the way Enid would smile at him.
It wasn't supposed to continue happening.
But Enid would catch her after class, ask her if she wanted to watch her practice, and Wednesday would forget how to say no.
She didn't know what it was. She didn't need a new friendship in her life, and she wouldn't be good company for someone like Enid.
Either way, her feet would drag her up the bleachers every practice day, and Enid would nervously ask how she did. And Wednesday would use all of her willpower not to say too much.
It was just practice.
So when Enid caught her arm before she could leave the field, Wednesday was curious.
“I just have no idea what's going on in that class, and I’m terrible when it comes to writing, and I know you come here and read sometimes…I don't know, just figured you’d wanna come over to help me?”
It was a terrible idea.
She was supposed to be getting distance from Enid, and the last time she tried that, she ended up just spending more time with her, and it was doing uncomfortable things to her psyche.
“Okay,” Wednesday replied.
Enid let go of her arm and thanked her, walking beside her now.
“You draw too,” Enid mumbled.
Wednesday slowed her steps.
Sensing the tension, Enid spoke again. “Not that I’ve seen anything, I just can see you sketching when I walk up here sometimes.”
Her sketchbook suddenly felt heavy in her bag, and her hands formed fists in her jacket pockets.
“You wouldn't like them,” Wednesday said.
“What? Why not?”
Debating on her next words carefully, Wednesday tightened her jaw for a second. “They don't do the subject justice.”
Enid’s smile was soft, and she moved to bump her shoulder against hers gently. “I have a feeling you're being modest,”
Modesty.
The word wasn't in Wednesday’s vocabulary.
“I’m not.”
Enid rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. Come over tomorrow, six o’clock?”
“You and Enid, huh?”
Wednesday stilled her pen.
“Oh my god, you totally have the hots for the cheer captain." Bianca squealed.
Wednesday felt her blood go cold. She wondered if she would take her pen and gouge her eye out—she determined it would be less painful than having this conversation.
“If you value your life, stop talking, Bianca.”
“Oh, please. You know your threats don't work on me.” Bianca shifted closer, lowering her own notebook.
“You don't have to pretend, you know. Plus, she obviously likes you too.”
On Wednesday continued writing. “I’m not pretending. And she has a boyfriend.”
Bianca scoffed. “Bruno? He’s a douchebag. I'll bet money she breaks up with him for you.”
If there was a God, Wednesday thought he would be laughing at the pathetic jump her stomach did, twisting around like she was some juvenile kid with a crush on the playground.
Her mind didn't mean to go—there.
It didn't matter because now she was actually thinking about it. A flash of her being the one leaning into Enid, rushing up the bleachers to embrace her, the one to lean in and—
Absolutely not.
A full body shudder followed her thoughts.
“And I’ll bet money you'll be dead if you keep talking,” Wednesday grumbled, earning an eye roll.
Wednesday hesitated on the steps to the front door, feet betraying her brain that was screaming at her to turn around, turn around, turn around.
Stopping at the familiar front door, she knocked, just once.
Enid opened the door before her hand could retreat to her side.
“Hey! Come in,”
“I figured we could study at the kitchen table, unless you wanna go up to my room…?”
Wednesday averted her eyes.
The kitchen was safe.
“The kitchen is fine,” Wednesday waited for Enid to lead them there, eyes shifting around the room nervously.
She was here before, and only a couple of weeks ago. But for some reason, things felt new, and it was only the two of them that invited a different feeling to arise, more intimate.
The place looked untouched for the most part—she wondered if Enid ever actually left her room due to the lack of evidence of anyone inhabiting the area.
Her eyes may have lingered a little too long because Enid caught her and gave a sheepish smile, pulling a chair out and plopping down.
“Parents aren't really…active participants,”
She was wearing a pink hoodie that looked two sizes too big, engulfing her in it and making her appear smaller than usual. She preferred this to the letterman jacket, she decided.
Sitting beside her, Wednesday didn't respond, only gave a small nod. Only letting herself wonder for a second if Enid ever got lonely being here, before pulling out the material.
“The assignment is to dissect the ending of Romeo & Juliet and create an alternative ending,” Wednesday begins, pulling her book out.
She felt eyes on her.
This felt like some sort of sick joke. Here she was, somewhere she never planned on going back to, sitting next to the girl she had sworn to stay away from, helping her with a writing assignment on Romeo & Juliet.
Enid cleared her throat. “They end up happily together, the end!”
Wednesday side-eyed her.
“Joking. Well—” Enid flashed her signature smile and shrugged. “Sort of, anyway.”
“And what is your version of happy together?”
While speaking, Wednesday didn't look at her. Aware that the words left before she could stop them, and she wasn't sure if she was asking this regarding the assignment or some other feeling she tried to shove deep, deep down.
“Hm…”
An uncomfortable silence followed, one that had Wednesday become all too aware of their proximity to each other. Enid had a leg tucked under her, so her knee was just a shift of movement away. If she didn't move carefully, her own leg would brush hers.
“I don't know, just being with someone makes you feel seen, you know? The feeling where it's inevitable…like you can both try and fight it, but it's useless, like it's not supposed to work but it does…”
Enid’s voice faded away at the end, a softness that Wednesday looked up for and felt a white hot rush in her stomach when she held her gaze. Her pen rested at her lip, her eyes were starting to drift, and Wednesday cleared her throat.
“Focus, Enid. Your paper’s in front of you.”
It was meant to come out stern, but she heard her own voice waver; it was pathetic for all intents and purposes.
She watched as Enid flushed, dropping her pen and stuttering an apology. And unfortunately for Wednesday, she found it endearing.
“Sorry—I guess I just had someone in mind.”
“Your boyfriend.” Wednesday couldn't help it.
Enid looked confused. “Boyfriend? What are you ta—”
Wednesday saw Enid’s face slowly fall into realization, a sick feeling in her chest when she saw the way she smiled.
“Bruno?”
Even the name coming out of her mouth didn't feel right. Wednesday’s hands clenched in her lap. Her throat felt dry.
“Strictly platonic,” was all Enid said.
“I saw him—”
“I broke it off.”
Wednesday stiffened. “When?”
“When I realized I liked someone else.”
And, God help her, Enid’s voice was doing that thing again where it dropped an octave and sounded like silk, and her eyes were considerably softer—it felt like a criminal act against her.
“Oh.”
Wednesday’s brain betrayed her, immediately remembering Bianca’s words. That Enid would break up with Bruno…for her. It was ridiculous, and she knew it. But it brought her head to another thought—what exactly were they?
Friends?
Or—
It took a full three seconds before the realization hit.
Bianca was right.
Wednesday actually liked a cheerleader. And not just any cheerleader; Enid Sinclair.
She felt like she might puke all over the dining table.
“Hey, are you okay? You look a little pale,”
Wednesday swallowed.
She was going to make a move to get up and excuse herself, but when she turned her head, she was met with Enid’s face just a few inches away. A few debilitating inches. She could see the specks in Enid’s eyes that were darker than others, and her pupils were dilated. Her brows were furrowed in concern, and her cheeks were that color red that made Wednesday’s stomach do concerning things, and then there were her lips—
“I have to go.”
Wednesday was stumbling out the door in seconds, faintly hearing Enid call after her but not daring to go back.
“No practice today?” Bianca asked when Wednesday didn't turn the opposite way after their last class, like she had been doing for the past couple of weeks.
“No.”
When they got into Wednesday’s car, Bianca sighed.
“Okay, seriously. What’s going on with you? You’re more brood-y than usual, and I’m sort of scared that you're behind the wheel right now.”
Wednesday tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
“Nothing’s going on.”
There was enough silence that Wednesday thought maybe Bianca would let it go, but of course, that would be too easy.
They were still in the parking lot. She wasn't sure why she couldn't just put the key in the ignition and go.
“It’s Enid, right?”
Wednesday couldn't respond.
She saw Bianca soften by a considerable degree and turn to her.
“Look, I don’t know what's happening between you two, and I won't pretend to but—” A beat of silence. “If you really like her, like I think you do, you can still fix it.”
“We almost kissed.”
Bianca’s mouth dropped open. “You guys—”
“She told me she broke up with Bruno because she likes someone else.”
“Wednesday…”
“I…like her.” Wednesday’s voice was barely above a whisper. Her chest constricted, and it reminded her of the way it would do that whenever Enid smiled at her.
Bianca raised a hand, tentatively resting it on her shoulder, and Wednesday—though she wanted to—didn't shift away.
“Hey,” Wednesday turned to her.
“I’ve never seen you like this over anyone, ever, Wednesday…You’d be an idiot to let her slip away.”
Wednesday narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but Bianca brought up a finger. “I'm not finished.”
“It's okay to let someone in. Especially if they make you act all…un-Wednesday-like.”
Letting the words sink in, Wednesday pondered on the thought.
Letting someone like Enid Sinclair in? Was that something she could do?
“Get the damn girl, Addams.”
She didn't have a plan.
Enid had been avoiding her like she was the plague, when she zigged left, Enid zigged right. When she would catch her eye, she wouldn't smile like she used to. She stopped meeting her after class. It was almost like Wednesday imagined the whole thing up. If she thought really hard about it, she almost believed she did.
But it wasn't just her, either.
The day after the almost kiss, Enid had been there waiting for her like she usually did, but Wednesday didn't stop for her that time.
The guilt was eating her alive.
All she could think about was the pink and blue in her hair and her laugh and lately—the nail in her coffin—her lips.
Her hands were trembling as she waited beside the bleachers.
Enid wasn't missing a beat; as always, she was moving like water on the field. Wednesday practically had her routine memorized by this point—the twists and turns and the small pockets when there was no movement. The way Enid would smile widely on certain moves and shift into determination on others.
She waited.
Waited until everyone else left the field, until she saw Enid slinging her bag over her shoulders and making her way off the field, before she made her way to her.
Enid did a double-take.
“Hi,” Wednesday said. Her hands were still trembling.
“Hey,”
Enid looked taken aback. She hesitated to move closer, but eventually took a few more steps until they were only a few feet away from each other.
Wednesday had no idea what to say.
She had thought of different scenarios, but everything was falling away now. Enid was looking at her like she was going through a similar struggle; her mouth had opened and closed several times.
“The routine looks good.”
Enid half scoffed—half laughed. “Homecoming is in a week, so I would hope so.”
Wednesday swallowed. “Who did you realize you liked?”
Enid stiffened for a second before her shoulders fell. “You know who.”
Taking one step closer, Wednesday met her eyes; any lingering feelings that she was going to embarrass herself were out the window.
“What if that person liked you back?”
Another step, this time from Enid.
The air felt thicker; she could make out the details in her eyes again, the ones she’d missed.
“Do they?” Enid whispered.
One more step and they were practically toe to toe. Wednesday reached up, hesitating for a second before resting her hand on Enid’s cheek, feeling the warmth.
“More than they’d like to admit,” Wednesday mumbled. Her head felt foggy, and all she could focus on was the way Enid was staring at her and the way her lips were slightly parted.
“Well, then…” Enid reached to tug on Wednesday’s jacket, bringing her that much closer until their breaths mingled together. “They—you should kiss me already.”
Wednesday swallowed.
Her eyes lingered for a second longer, the thought crossing her mind that there was no going back from this.
When their lips met, the sigh that left Enid had Wednesday pulling her in even tighter, because suddenly close wasn't close enough. Her entire body relaxed into it like there was nothing she could do about it; she’d been claimed from this moment on, and the lack of resistance from herself told her everything she needed to know.
Enid’s lips were just as soft as she had imagined them. And she had imagined it a lot since that day.
And, God, she was so eager.
Her grip on her jacket tightened, and her lips pressed against hers with more ferocity, breathing unevenly.
“You're—I can't believe you.” Enid pulled away and breathed out.
Wednesday answered with another kiss, thumb stoking her cheek where it rested before Enid pulled away again.
Sighing, Wednesday ripped her eyes away from her lips and watched as Enid gave her that smile she hadn't seen in too long.
“Wow. You really do like me,” Enid teased, bumping her shoulder.
“We’ve established that,” Wednesday shot back, but her tone was uncharacteristically soft.
“You’re a good kisser, and now I’m going to be thinking about that for like…a long time,” Enid mumbled, shifting on her feet and glancing at her teasingly.
Grabbing her hand and interlacing their fingers, Wednesday’s eyes lingered there, wondering how such a simple gesture could feel so natural.
“Doing is usually better than thinking.”
Giggling, Enid wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “You’re so right.”
“I usually am,”
Rolling her eyes, Enid started to lean in. “Shut up.”
“I can't wait to see the routine!” Bianca spoke excitedly beside her.
“I can tell,” Wednesday deadpanned.
Rolling her eyes, Bianca judged her shoulder. “Don't act like you aren't excited to see your girl up there doing her thing.”
Flushing, Wednesday didn't respond.
“Yeah, that's what I thought.”
She couldn't really deny it.
She remembered how Enid had rambled to her about how nervous she was the night before, throwing her hands up in full theatrics as she ranted about everything needing to go perfectly.
“You’re worrying for nothing, Enid.” Wednesday had told her, hands brushing blonde strands out of her face.
“I've watched almost every practice, and you never stepped out of place once.”
Enid relaxed at that. “I'll feel better seeing you in the audience.”
“I’ll be in the front row.”
And that was true.
Her usual spot was forgotten, and although it felt extremely weird being front row this time, she meant what she said.
There was a little ease in having Bianca with her, though the teasing had been incessant ever since she had found out about them.
Wednesday was right, of course, she was.
Enid cheered with ease—every movement as perfect as Wednesday knew they would be.
When Enid caught her eye at the end of the routine, Wednesday felt a small twitch of her lips.
“Ugh, you guys are adorable.” Bianca groaned beside her.
Wednesday’s face immediately fell.
Enid had told her to meet her after the performance; she’d be underneath the bleachers. Wednesday had rolled her eyes, thinking it was ridiculously cliché, but nodded her head anyway.
As Wednesday got up to meet her, she saw someone else also approaching Enid.
Bruno.
Wednesday practically sprinted.
Enid had noticed her and immediately went to jump into her arms, squealing.
“Well?”
“You did perfectly. Like I said you would.” Wednesday tightened her grip around her waist and set her down on her feet.
Humming, Enid leaned in to kiss her. “Okay, smartass.”
Over her shoulder, she could see Bruno stop in his tracks, a look of dejection in his eyes that was so satisfying that Wednesday couldn't help the smirk that crossed her face.
Noticing the look on her face, Enid followed her gaze.
“Seriously?”
Wednesday blinked. “What?”
“You don't have to be jealous of him.”
“I’m not. I’m just…reminding him he has no reason to talk to you anymore.”
Raising a brow, Enid wore a sly smile. “Right…”
Leaning in, Enid kissed her deeply. She could feel her smile in it, and something about the feeling had Wednesday’s stomach churn in the way only Enid could cause.
“Oh—” Enid pulled back. “You never actually told me what you were drawing in your sketchbook.”
“Enid,” Wednesday tilted her head up by her chin. “Was it not obvious it was you?”
She watched as Enid’s face softened, and she sighed. “I know you say you're not romantic, but that's—you're soft Wednesday Addams.”
Wednesday opened her mouth to argue, but realized it was a lost cause because Enid was right on this one, and her eyes were twinkling, and her cotton candy hair was swaying in the wind.
So, instead, she pulled her in.