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The night was falling, but it was Friday, so her curfew was much later.
She had all the time in the world for her revenge.
Not that she wanted to do this for any reason other than humiliating him in front of his dad.
That would be insane.
He was still walking backward as she approached, one deliberate step at a time.
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, though not convincingly.
“Too late,” she replied, deadpan.
Okay, so he was doomed.
He kept retreating until he stubbed his leg on his bed and had no choice but to sit down.
Well, really, he was doing most of the work himself.
Internally, he panicked.
Why did he have to do that?
Now his dad would see, and it would be mortifying.
“Wens, don’t treat others like you don’t want to be treated!” he said wisely, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“This is stupid,” she replied, deadpan, lifting an eyebrow.
She took another step closer, hands hidden behind her back.
“Wednesday,” he squeaked.
“Tyler,” she mimicked his tone.
“You know I won’t let you,” he said, though he knew he would.
She rolled her eyes.
He got up on his bed and backed into the headboard.
She sighed and followed.
He was cornering himself.
There was no fun in that.
He panicked about his dad, but she casually got on her tiptoes and kissed him while keeping her hands behind her back.
She kissed hard.
She knew him well enough to predict that he’d wrap his arms around her waist soon.
And he did.
Predictable.
She kissed him again, distracting him just long enough to slip her feet between the headboard and his ankles, then nudged sharply.
He toppled backward.
She hadn’t even used her hands yet, still pretending to be innocent.
“Ow! Wens, don’t do that—I could’ve died!” he whined.
“Yes, I’m sure your ten-centimeter fall almost killed you,” she said sarcastically.
“Well maybe you’re too short to realize, but I’ve fallen from way more than ten centimeters,” he joked, grinning.
She rolled her eyes and continued her payback, this time sitting on his hips to pin him down.
A few months ago, this would’ve been a big deal, but not anymore.
She kissed him again, hard enough that he wouldn’t even try to push her away.
His dad? Completely out of mind.
He barely remembered why she was even doing this.
He was in another galaxy.
Kisses continued.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.
She rested her hands on his chest.
She trailed kisses down his neck.
“Ah, na na na,” he gasped, annoyed but smiling.
He tried to steal her lips back, and she bit his lip hard.
He complained about it—very seriously, even citing his sensitive lips and lip balm—but she ignored him, expressionless.
Bored of the complaints, she went back to his neck, still ignoring him.
She was here for revenge, not making out or chit chat
Finally, she got to enact more than what he had done to her.
She had been waiting for this.
He was half panicking, half letting her do whatever she wanted, gripping her waist as his breathing turned so uneven he started to worry.
“Wait… do you think I could die from this?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
“I hope so,” she replied coolly, kissing him again.
Poof—he was gone, lost in another galaxy.
The problem? She was forgetting her own plan.
But her revenge was already complete, so technically, she was free. Yet she stayed. Weird.
He smiled against her lips.
He knew this wasn’t just vengeance.
She convinced herself she was only prolonging the fun, maybe even torturing him a bit more.
She pulled back to breathe, then kissed him again, slipping her hand under his shirt to rest on his abs.
He jolted at the sudden cold touch.
Now it was really getting fun.
When she finally pulled away, he was dazed and confused. Perfect.
In his head, there was literal fog.
He clutched her waist tightly.
This was fun.
She should do this more often—the only time he shut up and didn’t smile was priceless.
They kissed again. Minutes passed.
Fifteen minutes later, he was shirtless. Oops. Probably the “shirt-stealer fairy” had passed by.
She rested her hands on his bare arms trying not to let her mind think about it, and couldn’t help noticing about how effortlessly hard he still held her waist.
She added two more hickeys to his chest and kissed him one last time before casually standing, smirking.
“Wait… what?” he managed to say.
“I have to go back to Nevermore. Your dad will probably come get you for dinner in a few minutes,” she said, slipping her shoes back on.
Ah, the satisfaction of seeing his dazed, confused face.
“Oh, right that was your plan,” he said, realizing it.
He rushed to the mirror to see how bad it was, panicking about his dad, but still wishing she’d stayed.
She grabbed her homework from his desk and, instead of escaping out the window, took the normal path out the door.
“Wait—no! My dad! Wens, come back!” he whispered, but she looked back at him smugly before heading downstairs.
He followed, struggling to put his shirt back on.
(The “shirt-stealer fairy” must’ve returned it. How nice.)
Slipping into his shirt while rushing down the stairs? Hard. Surprisingly hard.
And he wasn’t just talking about the shirt—some other things were even harder.
Jesus what was wrong with him?!
How did he even thought of that?!
Absolutely not the moment to joke about that.
Actually is there ever a moment to joke about that?
Who cares?
And he rushed down the stairs faster.
Her voice greeted the sheriff downstairs. They exchanged polite, sarcastic, dry conversation.
He stumbled into the living room, half falling over.
His dad looked at him like he’d lost his mind—until he noticed his neck, then turned to Wednesday’s neck.
“What the—” he muttered.
“I better go,” she said calmly, slipping out the door.
Awkward.
“Wait, Dad! I’ll be back!” he shouted as he dashed outside, crossing his arms for warmth.
“That was mean. You are mean,” he said, smiling.
“You’ll be fine. This was the game,” she replied deadpan.
“I didn’t agree to play! And the plan was for my dad to see it, except will he see the ones on my chest?” he asked, still smiling fake wondering.
His dad shouted from inside.
He grimaced.
“Your shirt is on backward, by the way,” she added, ignoring him.
He adjusted it, hoping his dad hadn’t seen them through the window.
His dad shouted again.
“I love you,” he said before kissing her cheek and rushing back inside—socks soaked from the grass.
Inside, his dad’s face was a mixture of disbelief and fury.
He lectured him on being stupid and how useless it was to leave marks.
He thought: true, why mark what’s already yours?
He smiled at that thought.
His dad, thinking he was mocking him, started yelling.
And it was still completely worth it.