Ian and Amy - Meant To Be

Chapter 5

Before we start, just wanted to tell you guys this will not be the last chapter of this short story. The epilogue will follow in a few weeks. Thank you for having the patience to wait for an update. You guys are the best. Enjoy!

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Amy studied the nervous boy standing in front of her. It appeared he was having a panic attack after his previous outburst. He had all the classic symptoms; avoiding of the eyes, uncomfortable fidgeting and everything.

It was an unusual experience to have a boy - a Kabra even - fidget nervously before her. Something of a novelty, really, to not be crumbling into a stuttering wreck when in a conversation with a handsome boy.

Not that there were many boys as exquisite as Ian Kabra. With his perfect nose, sculpted eyebrows, chiseled lips, and deep dark eyes, he was an angel walking upon the earth in the form of a mortal. The suit he was wearing today seemed to show off his superior height and build to the nth level, marking him as something extraordinary. Even his dark hair was messed up in an attractive way.

But the thing that drew Amy in the most was his eyes. They were fractured in some strange way, as if they'd seen things teenage boys are not normally supposed to see. She knew that behind the thick shining surface lay a mass of unfathomable sorrow that could not be easily consoled. It was this feature about him, this silent sadness, that made her want to press her hand on her chest and heal the wound inside.

Of course, that wouldn't be very smart. She didn't have magical healing powers in her hands. And for some strange reason she couldn't quite identify, the thought of touching his chest made her nervous.

He was studying his shoes now. She knew from personal experience that this would closely be followed by an attempt to disengage from the conversation at hand. With a little panicky thump in her chest, she realized she didn't want him to leave just yet.

So she tried to engage him in a conversation. "How's Cara?"

Cara was a friend they had unexpectedly acquired during their fight against a megalomaniac who tried to take over the world with patriotic speeches and an all-powerful serum. She was the megalomaniac's daughter, true, but she was a nice person. She was also the most skilled hacker the world had ever seen. It went without saying that she was a valuable ally to have.

From what Amy had heard, Ian and Cara got along well. Very well, some said. Too well to just be friends. (This gave her a strange urge to punch Cara in the gut, which was very irrational and totally random. She tried to shake the thought away.) If so, the topic of Cara might interest Ian enough to encourage him into talking again.

Sure enough, he responded, looking up from his shoes, as eagerly as if he'd been yearning for something to break the awkward silence he'd been trapped in. "Good. She's doing really well in the Lucian HQ. Fits right in."

He didn't seem that nervous anymore. Interesting how quickly just mentioning Cara could do that to him. (The mental image of her punching Cara became distinctly sharper in Amy's head.) "That's nice to hear. A bit of a surprise to know she's working well with Cahills."

"Yes, I know," said Ian, evidently pleased about how the arrangement had turned out so well. (Amy tried hard to stop herself from wondering what it would feel like to strangle Cara with her bare hands.) "I personally didn't expect her to be so likable. She's got good taste in almost everything; cars, bedsheets, central heating systems - "

Amy snorted. "Central heating systems?"

Ian grinned. "Call us petty, but really, it's an essential aspect of life if you think about it. The only thing that's not 'bloody rich' about her is the way she dresses. I mean, Natalie would have a field day - " He suddenly choked on his words, the grin melting off his mouth as fast as a snowman melting down in summer. The color drained out of his face so completely that he took on the look of a ghost in a matter of seconds.

Amy was momentarily puzzled by his sudden change of mood. Then her brain finished registering the exact words he'd spoken. Her eyes widened. Of course.

Natalie.

Then with Natalie's name came other names, like dominos falling in quick succession. Evan. Erasmus. Pony. Alistair. McIntyre. Irina. Hope. Arthur.

Grace.

Don't cry, she told herself. You will not cry, Amy Cahill. No way. Not here. Not now.

One word. It shouldn't be possible for someone to hurt this much from just one word. It was unreasonable and cruel. Yet that was how the world was to its tenants. Cruel.

The pain was so plainly displayed in his expression that it actually hurt her to see this side of him, his secret side he kept to himself. She wanted to do something, anything to ease the torture he was in.

So she started babbling. "I'm sorry, I was stupid, it must have been something I said, I didn't mean to make you think of, I mean --" She gulped. "It's my fault. I know it is. It's all my fault. I could have saved her. I could have saved all of them. But I was too stupid to act before something bad happened. I was too stupid to see it. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please, Ian, if there's anything I can do --"

He held up a hand to stop her. She snapped her mouth closed, trembling with guilt and grief. She watched him take a deep, shuddering breath.

Then he smiled at her shakily. "Really, Cahill? Is that the best you can do? Blaming it all on one individual is hardly the right way to chase away another's gloom. Haven't you read the books? Truly, I'm disappointed in your lack of technique." He reached out and gently wiped off a tear from her face. "Rule number one: Don't be the one crying when you're trying to cheer someone up."

She hadn't known she'd been crying. Her throat hurt, like something heavy was stuck in her windpipe, pressing down on her chest. She couldn't speak.

He frowned, taking her silence for something else. "You can't seriously mean that though, right? None of it was your fault. You did the best you could, and that's all anyone could ever ask of you. Stop beating yourself up . . ."

He kept talking, but the individual words blurred together in her ears, incomprehensible. She stared at him. He was her first crush, even though she had strived to deny it for years. Now she couldn't understand what had brought on the denial in the first place. What part of liking this boy was embarassing to admit? This broken boy who showed off his intelligence to the world as proudly as if he was wearing a crown and suffered silently in the dark, afraid to burden anyone else with his pain?

Then she realized why she had fallen so hard for Evan, for Jake. They were similar to Ian in so many ways. Intelligent. Kind. Sometimes sarcastic. Sometimes fierce. Always protective of his own.

But they were never Ian. They could never be truly Ian. That was why she had found herself drifting away from them sooner or later, always, always drifting closer to this boy standing in front of her right now, trying to make her feel better about his own sister's death, when he should be the one being comforted.

And in that moment, she knew, with blazing hot certainty, that she loved him. That she'd come to love every single part about him, and would not be able to stand another day without him.

Foolish of her not to have seen it sooner.

Well, she thought, better late than never.

Three years. That was how long it had taken her to see the obvious. Three wasted years.

She would not waste any more time. Not now. Not ever.

So she grabbed the front of his suit, yanked him toward her, and kissed him hard, right on the lips. She felt him emit a small noise of surprise in the back of his throat. Then his arms were around her, and hers were around him, and everything was perfect. Around them, the music swirled, the people spun in their dance, and the world kept on spinning, no doubt creating a new disaster for a girl with auburn hair to go through. But she didn't care. In that single moment, for once in her crazy, messed-up life, everything felt absolutely, positively perfect.