3. Sparks

Wendy and Pete get a little closer, and she can't shake the feeling that something strange is hanging in the air around the house.

“We can’t thank you enough for finding her, Peter.” Mr. and Mrs. Darling had fawned over their daughter when Pete had brought her back. As usual, Mrs. Darling was making a big fuss about the injury. They had, of course, remembered Pete instantly. Wendy figured adults must always see you the way you looked when you were a little kid. 

They were all in the lounging room drinking chrysanthemum tea, Wendy lying on the couch with her leg propped up on ice. 

“It’s nothing, really. It wasn’t how I pictured catching up with Wendy, but I’m glad I found her before it got dark.” 

Mr. Darling nodded seriously. 

“We’d be so appreciative if you could keep her company for the next few weeks. She’ll be cooped up in the house all alone with nothing but her books.” Mrs. Darling patted Wendy’s hand affectionately. 

Wendy rolled her eyes at Pete, even though she secretly wouldn’t mind having him all to herself. It was strange, being reintroduced to someone she’d known so well but now didn’t really know at all. He was painfully good-looking, in the way people are when they’re good-looking and haven’t the faintest idea about it and/or couldn’t care less. 

She wondered what he thought of her. 

They stayed down in the lounge room, the four of them, talking for a good while longer. A few times Wendy caught Pete staring at her. 

He didn’t look away quickly, the way she would have if it had been reversed. He held her gaze with something intense in his eyes, like he was seeing a version of her she didn’t believe existed. 

The pristine white cast lasted all of about 4 hours after getting back to the house before Mike and Johnny doodled monsters and weed leaves and bombs all over while killing time until they went into town to meet some girls they’d met. 

Wendy was allowed to set up camp on the plush couch in front of the only television in the house, and she gorged herself on Lifetime movies and daytime talk shows. 

Just when she started to get extremely bored, Pete showed up. 

“You look like you could use some entertainment.” 

She grinned and patted the seat on the couch next to her. 

Though she wouldn’t have wanted anyone to notice, she’d put on a little makeup that day in case he decided to show up. She hoped she looked okay. 

Pete sat down like he’d sat next to her his entire life, relaxed and comfortable. A wave of calm washed over her, making her feel blithe and content. 

“So what did you do? I mean, after I moved.” she said finally. He looked perpetually amused, like he was thinking something funny all the time and was perfectly content to keep it to himself. 

“Same as you. I grew up,” he nudged her shoulder with his, “Lately though I’ve been seeing a lot of your grandma. She’s got a lot of good stories.” 

Wendy noticed that he didn’t move his shoulder. She didn’t move away either, trying to ignore the tingling energy she felt at their arms touching. 

“So. . .do you have a girlfriend or whatever?” she mentally smacked her forehead. Was she trying to be a total goon?

Pete grinned and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“Wendy, are you hitting on me?” he teased. She blushed. 

“What? No! I’m just making conversation, god!” she looked at her lap, secretly pleased that he was paying so much attention to her. 

“Mmhm. But no, to answer your question. I’m not currently tied down.” He fiddled with a hole in his ragged jeans. “What about you? Anyone pining for you back home?” 

Wendy thought briefly about Kyle Kensington, the lacrosse player from her school who was supposedly going to ask her out. 

Comparing him to Pete was like comparing a Ken doll to Johnny Depp. 

“Nope. I’m kind of retarded at relationships. The guys I’ve dated all seem so. . .flat. Like they’re all the same. Normal.”

That made Pete laugh. 

“Normal is bad then? Hmm. . .” he glanced at the TV and rolled his eyes at her. “What the hell is this? Lifetime?” 

She stuck her tongue out at him. “So what if it is? I like movies about husbands who cheat and teenage daughters who get pregnant and then get kicked out of school.” 

They sat there like that on the couch for two whole Lifetime movies, joking and carefully flirting, until Wendy felt herself drifting off. 

The last thing she heard before she fell asleep was Pete’s voice humming a song she knew but couldn’t quite place. 

Wendy woke up with her head on a soft pillow to Pete’s fingers running absentmindedly through her hair. Somehow the pillow had ended up on his lap, and she was stretched out across the whole length of the couch. 

The TV was still on, but the voices were muffled since her ear was pressed to the pillow. She wondered if she could pretend to be asleep awhile longer, just to lie there with him. 

No such luck.

“You talk in your sleep.” Pete said, twirling a lock of her hair around his long index finger. Wendy felt her face start to warm. 

“Ugh. Just tell me what I said.” she groaned, partially from the pain in her leg. “Hand me those pills, would you?” she pointed to the bottle of prescription hydrocodone that was on the coffee table. She struggled for a moment before getting herself into an upright sitting position. Her head felt fuzzy and dreamy still. 

Pete undid the cap of the pills and shook one into his hand before handing it to her. 

“Not too much, just some stuff about mermaids and a castle. Oh, and about wanting to make out with me.” he grinned, laughing when she shoved him. 

“I did not say that! You weren’t even in my dream.” she lied, popping the pill into her mouth and dry-swallowing. He had been, of course. He’d been in almost every dream she’d had since puberty. 

“Okay, okay. You didn’t say that exactly. I guess sometimes I just hear what I wanna hear.” His arm touched hers and Wendy realized that they were extremely close. He was close enough, if she wanted, to lean in and kiss. 

She’d kissed boys before, at parties and on dates. It was always so obvious when they were about to kiss her. She found herself thinking about other things when they did, like what she was going to wear the next day, or if she should cut her hair shorter. She hadn’t closed her eyes during any of them. 

Pete smelled like the air after summer rain, like wood smoke and boy. Not like cologne A, B, or C like the guys she knew. 

The movie on TV was about a high school girl whose boyfriend gets another girl pregnant, but neither of them were watching. 

It was like he was waiting for her to decide, not influencing her decision, not doing what he wanted. Just waiting. 

“But what if I want to?” she said finally, slowly. Her voice came out steadier and surer than she had thought it would. 

Pete’s eyes were glinting in the light from the setting sun coming through the windows, and he laced his fingers with hers. 

“What do you want, Wendy?” he said softly. This was insane, she knew. He had just reappeared in her life after almost six years and she was already more strongly attracted to him than she’d ever been to anyone. 

“I want to. . .” she felt the surge of nerves all over her body as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, slowly and deliberately. When they parted, his eyes had a kind of animal wildness in them, and she knew he’d been holding back. 

She pulled him in by the fabric of his shirt and kissed him again, feeling him smile against her mouth at her aggressiveness. 

He kissed her back hungrily, biting at her lower lip and threading his fingers through her tangled hair. 

After a few minutes they broke apart, breathing quickly and wild-eyed. 

“Wow.” said Wendy. She felt like her brain was floating, and she wondered if it was from the painkillers or the kissing or both. 

She was very, very glad that her parents and Johnny and Mike had gone in to town for the day. She couldn’t imagine the relentless teasing her brothers would heap on her if they’d seen. 

“You certainly are full of surprises, Wendy Darling.” Pete said, grinning as he took her hand in his again. 

Looking at their fingers together, she felt like something was happening. Maybe the something she’d been waiting for. His hand was warm and his fingertips were rough with calluses, but she liked the way they gently scratched the smooth skin of her own. 

“I like how oblivious you are.” he said, as they tried to figure out what was happening in the long-forgotten Lifetime movie. 

“How do you mean?” 

“Just. . .other girls who are. . .other girls who look like you like to use it to their advantage. They’re vain. You don’t carry yourself like them.” 

He was looking at her again, like he saw her in some haloed aurora of light. 

“What does that mean, ‘girls who look like me’? Like a weirdo, you mean?” 

Pete gave her hand a squeeze and rolled his eyes. 

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You must really have no clue that you’re gorgeous.” 

Wendy rolled her eyes back at him and made a gagging noise. 

“Puh-lease. Looked in the mirror lately, Mr. Bad Boy McHandsome?” she poked his ribs, enjoying the way he squirmed. “You grew up to be such a babe.” 

He said nothing, just smiled and shook his head before kissing her twice on the lips and once on the cheek. 

It felt to Wendy like they had always been together. She wondered if this was what it was supposed to feel like when you liked someone, like you couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried. 

She felt like she was about to have an adventure, scared and nervous and excited and enthusiastic all jumbled up. 

When Wendy’s family returned an hour or so later they found Wendy and Pete both asleep on the couch hand-in-hand, her head on his shoulder. 

And, as if sensing that this was something important, something special, they lingered a moment before quietly heading upstairs to their own beds. Even Mike and Johnny managed to keep their mouths shut. 

The last person to sneak a glimpse of the sleeping youths was Grandma Rose, her lips curving in an impish smile. Things were going just as she’d known they would.