"Hey, kiddo." Warren appears in Idas bedroom doorway, a sneaky smile spreading his cheeks.
"Hey." She smiles back, "What's up with you?" She asks, sitting up on her bed.
He sighs once before walking deeper into her room and sitting on the edge of her twin sized bed.
"Moms back." He says, forcing a smile onto his face.
Idas mother had been gone for a week now. Ever since the night of the dinner party with Olivers family, she'd been staying with her mother. She told them she just needed a break from things. Which meant she needed a break from them. Her own family. It stung Henry more than anyone, but Ida still was hurt. She'd just grown better at hiding it.
"Oh." She nodded, not phased by her mother's coming and going. It happened often and it wouldn't surprise her if her mother up and left tomorrow morning.
"You should go to talk to her." He says in a quiet voice, like the subject is taboo. And it kinda is. Because their mother acts more like some hidden pet they all keep secret from the outside world. She's always in her bedroom with the door closed. Their dad sends her meals, and he's lucky to spare a conversation with her. Ida hates talking to her. It's mentally draining.
"I will." She fakes a smile and flashes her eyes to her alarm clock, "but it's almost nine so I'm gonna be going to bed soon."
He sucks in a breath, "Okay. Tomorrow."
"Yep." She says, not really sure in her voice and he knows it too.
"Goodnight, Ades." he mumbles, standing up on his feet, pressing a warm kiss onto Idas forehead.
She smiles, "Love ya."
"Oh! Before I let you off the hook, it's your night to take out the trash!" He hurriedly yells as he treks outside her door, fast enough for her not to make argument.
"Argh!" Ida grumbles, smacking her fist into the air.
**
Ida swings the trash bags into the trash barrel and begins dragging it across the excruciatingly lengthy driveway, towards the mailbox for trash pick up.
Once she cuts the distance, she releases the barrel by the curb and wipes her crummy hands over her jogger sides.
Headlights beam on the street, turning in the driveway next to hers.
Ida squints her eyes up at the familiar Jeep pulling into Olivers driveway.
She sighs, turning her back and heading back the way she came. Walking hesitant this time.
A door opens, but doesn't shut. It's Oliver.
"Ida!" He yells out.
Ida clamps her eyes shut, bracing herself. She swings her head around, hair flailing in every direction in cause of the wind.
Oliver is walking towards her and as he gets closer in view, she sees he's dressed in a Walmart uniform.
"Oh." Ida can't help but shake with laughter.
He shakes his head, exhaling like he's been through this dance before, "You done?" He asks once she seems to done with her fit of laughter.
Yet that only causes Ida to laugh harder. She doesn't even know why she's laughing. Maybe it's the thought that he might be trying to be responsible. Like; step one, get a job. Ida doubts that'll last long. He's not great with commitment.
"I didn't know you had a job." She says, crossing her arms over her thin pajama clad body.
He clears his throat quickly, "Yeah, I just got it when I came home. I work in the back usually. Stocking."
She nods. That makes sense. He hates people and working with them. Especially clueless ones. But he's great at acting like he loves them. Despite his hate towards mankind, he's very friendly and helpful. That's actually one of the main qualities of his that Ida used to admire.
Suddenly, the both of them are standing in the middle of Idas driveway, under the dark canvas of a stormy blue night with stars ablazing, and an uncomfortable silence encasing the two.
"So.." She says, about to return back to her home, the safe place she likes to call it.
"Ida—" He starts but cuts himself off by the shake of the head.
She raises a brow at him but he's not looking at her. His head is tilted to the asphalt and his mop of hair is falling onto his forehead. Ida has an urge to rake it back, like she used to.
It hurts to think about the memories, though. So she turns her head to the direction of her front door. Footsteps away. So close and so far.
"Can we..hang out?" He asks, squinting his eyes up at her.
Ida whips her head back to him, she takes a peak over his shoulder. His Jeep is still running and the door is still sprung wipe open.
Why? Why is he so bent on hanging out? He had his chance. But maybe they do need closure. The closure they never got because Ida never wanted anything to do with him after what he did. It hurt too much.
"We're hanging out right now." She teases, hiding her emotions with that awkward funny part of her peaks out.
He gives her a look, "You know what it mean. This isn't.." He sighs, trailing off into silence.
Ida blinks at him. Thinks about how much he hurt her. How much she loved him. How long he left her. How alone she was. She owes him nothing. He owes her closure. But what if he's not over it. That doesn't make sense though. He had her. He had her and he let her go. He hurt her. So why does he want to 'hang out'?
So maybe it was the curiosity or maybe it was the way he was looking at her with those dark eyes that always watered with the wind shafting them or maybe it was the way his fingers were curling into his palms, his tell of nerves, either way, Ida spoke the word with nothing but confidence, "fine."
He slumps his shoulders in relief, a small smile covering the guilt, "Great." His smile grows. Curling up higher on one side than the other. It's the devious smile, the hard to get smile, the one that scares you. It scares her in this moment. "Does tomorrow night at Panera Bread work? I remember that was your favorite place to eat..before—"
She inhales sharply, "Y-yes. Yeah that's fine." She nods briskly, not wanting him to finish that sentence.
His adam's apple bobs, her eyebrows furrow.
"Goodnight." He mumbles, turning around and walking back to his Jeep.
Ida watches him. Hoping she didn't just make a mistake. If he messes this up. If he even tries to make this hard. If he expects her to retry what they did or had or whatever....God. That would be so bad. She doesn't even know what she'd do. Cry, probably.
It doesn't matter. She already said yes. It's done. The ball is in his playing field now. She thinks.
