Irene stood in shock, still unable to react to Wendy. Her knuckles were going white, and she felt pinpricks of pain from the nails digging into the palm of her hands. A flood of memories washed over her.

…

Wendy was the school’s It Girl. She was popular, the captain of her school’s soccer and basketball teams, and also a co-president of the glee club. Wendy sat at the throne of the high school’s pecking order, and her innumerous and persistent admirers were a testament to Wendy’s influence over the population.

She never used her popularity maliciously, though. She used it to promote the glee club, to encourage the ‘outcast’ kids to take risks and be social, and conversed with everyone possible. Irene hatedher for it.

One day, in the fall, Irene was sitting alone in the courtyard at lunch, sitting under her favorite tree’s canopy. She had a book cracked open and was reading diligently, this escape from the ruckus of her classes was much appreciated. Her best (and only) friend, Seulgi, didn’t usually join her, but rather was found at one of the meetings for the clubs she always chattered on about. Not that Irene minded, of course.

So today, she sat alone, the crisp breeze in the air putting Irene at ease. It was days like this that she wished would stay under her tree and read forever.

She glanced up from her book to examine the other students. There were a lot she didn’t recognize, she was a junior now and didn’t pay attention to the kids in her own grade, nevertheless the younger kids. Her eyes scanned through the courtyard, stopping at an umbrella-covered table where Wendy and her closest friends sat.

Irene hated her.

She hated her stupid auburn hair that danced in the breeze, the stupid and bright grin on her face, and her beautiful and melodious laugh. But most of all, Irene hated how Wendy was already looking at her.

Doesn’t she have a life? Why is she staring at me? Irene thinks. Irene breaks eye contact with Wendy to roll her eyes, and returns her gaze to the book in front of her. She tried to will away the creeping blush on her face, masking her features with a grimace.

God she hated Wendy.

…

A few weeks had passed, but Irene was still sitting under her tree, her legs fanned out comfortably, this time a textbook in her hands. She highlighted futilely at the words she just wouldn’t understand (history was never her strongest subject), and sighed. She continued to reread the same paragraph about the storming of the bastille before she was interrupted by a soft kick to her shin.

She looked up, anger painting her features to glare at whoever was stupid enough to interrupt her from studying AND kick her.

It was Wendy.

The younger girl smiled at her, and extended a book to Irene. Irene could only watch her, confused by the sudden gift.

“Well you aren’t gonna make me beg are you?” Wendy said, a smirk on her face. She jerked the book in her hand teasingly, motioning for Irene to grab it.

“Beg.” Irene quipped, returning her rather unamused gaze back to her history textbook.

Wendy laughed, a full and resonant cackle that startled Irene from her reading. She looked up at Wendy, who was still smiling. Irene shot an upturned brow at her, abstaining from giving in to Wendy’s goading.

“Please?” Wendy whined, her lip jutted out in a rather disgustingly cute pout. Irene huffed and seized the book from the younger girl, her hand blazing from the way her fingers grazed over Wendy’s.

Wendy’s face relaxed as Irene grabbed the book from her grasp, the older woman not even giving it a look before she tossed it onto the grass beside her.

Irene refused to look at Wendy, the blush on her cheeks seeming to make a permanent home on her face.

Wendy hummed happily, and her light footsteps on the grass had let Irene know she was safe to finally look at whatever book Wendy was stupid enough to give her.

Stupid, generous girl with her stupid beaming smile.

Irene dared to steal a quick glance at the book. Pride and Prejudice. An interesting choice, that’s for sure.

…

It was after Christmas break, and Irene had returned to school, almost joyous to return to her routine of sitting outside and reading. She would never get bored of it. It was a little colder than she was used to, but she would get over it.

Her knees were bent to support the algebra textbook that splayed open in front of her. She had made sure to hide the other book she was reading, Pride and Prejudice, within the textbook. There was NO way she would let that idiot get the satisfaction of watching her enjoy the gift.

To Irene’s dismay, her utter fascination with the book had left her defenses down. She jumped when she heard a loud plop on the ground next to her.

“You like it?” The voice questioned, and Irene immediately pegged it as Wendy’s.

Irene whipped to face the younger girl, who was smirking knowingly as her eyes traveled from the book and back to Irene’s gaze. Irene was incredibly irked that Wendy was unfazed by her attempts at intimidation.

Irene only grunted in response, reading the same few words over and over again, ignoring her until Wendy would get the message that her presence was unwanted. Irene sat in uncomfortable silence, but Wendy seemed rather unbothered, and Irene darted her eyes to catch a quick peek at the younger woman. She was fiddling idly with the grass, and Irene realized she would have to be the one to say something.

“What?” Irene questioned, leaving her response as short as humanly possible.

Wendy turned to look at her.

“Aren’t you cold?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there were a lot fewer kids outside today. Her soft voice amplified the relative silence.

Irene shook her head.

“Why do you care?”

“Take this.” Wendy said, in a short manner that parroted Irene’s snippy responses.

Wendy blanketed her jacket over Irene’s lap, careful not to cover her books. Irene blushed furiously, and tried to stutter out a refusal to Wendy, but words failed her. She sat blankly as Wendy stood up, and smiled at her. The warmth in her smile made Irene unreasonably hot, as if the warmth from her smile had penetrated Irene’s defenses.

“Don’t catch a cold, Irene.” Wendy said, walking away without another word.

Irene watched her walk inside, to where her friends were.

Why is she being so nice to me?

…

Irene walked home that night wearing Wendy’s beige cardigan. She traveled in a cloud of vanilla and lavender. It was intoxicating. She was a little giddier than normal, (she wasn’t sure why) but it didn’t last long.

“I’m home, Mom!” Irene sing-songs, slipping off her shoes at the door.

“IRENE GET OVER HERE!” Her mother screeches, and she can hear her little sister, Yeri, crying.

Irene immediately starts to panic, inhaling deep breaths of vanilla that calmed her momentarily. She sprints to the living room, where Yeri is crying on the floor, their mother towering over her.

“Do you know anything about this?” Her mother seethes, pointing to the TV. It’s paused, and there’s an animated gay couple on screen, holding hands. Irene had warned Yeri about it before, that their mother would be mad if she found out that Yeri was watching… that… but she evidently had not heeded Irene’s advice.

“I- I don’t know, Mom.” Irene responds, her voice shaky. Her heart aches for Yeri, who’s still trembling on the floor, tears staining her face.

Her mother walked over to Irene and jabbed her finger into Irene’s chest.

“Don’t you EVER let her watch that again. Where the hell did she even find that?” Her mother says, forcing her finger deeper into the cavity in Irene’s chest.

“I don’t know, Mom.” Irene repeats, hoping the swell of panic and fear in her chest isn’t detected by her mother.

“I have to go to work. If either of you brings that nonsense into my house again you will NOT be welcome back. Remember that.” Her mother finishes, getting in one last jab for effect. The clacking of heels echoes through the house. The door slams, and Irene immediately cradles a still crying Yeri in her arms.

…

Irene had comforted Yeri until she had fallen asleep, assuring her that she did nothing wrong, that it was their mother that was acting unreasonably. Yeri sniffled and cried throughout the night, not saying anything to Irene.

Once Yeri had drifted off, Irene snuck back to her own room. She laid on her bed and cried, staring blankly at the ceiling above her.

She held Wendy’s cardigan to her chest, gripping it like it was a lifeline. Lavender and vanilla invaded her senses again, the only comfort in her current state.

God did she want to hate Wendy.

…

It was prom season, and Irene was irritated. Her usual solace in the courtyard was continually interrupted by loud and rowdy promposals that Irene absolutely abhorred. It was almost impossible to read, which was especially annoying considering that she was almost finished with Pride and Prejudice.

She flipped the page irately, reading through the first paragraph before she was interrupted. There was a pregnant silence in the courtyard. It was ominous, even.

Irene looked up, and saw Wendy, across the courtyard, holding a bouquet of brightly colored flowers. A beaming grin was plastered on her face, and there were people around her holding signs. They all walked towards Irene.

Her heart was beating in her ears, and all the oxygen in her lungs seemed to dissipate. 

Written on the signs was:

“Irene, Prom?”

The vanilla and lavender on the cardigan she was wearing was asphyxiating. Irene stood up, and without a thought, ran. She ran and ran. 

Her memory out, but she found herself locked in the girl’s restroom, hyperventilating. Her fingers clutched at the cardigan, enveloping Irene in the all too familiar concoction of vanilla. She counted out her breaths, her eyes closed, as she attempted to calm herself down.

She hears the door open, the creak echoing off of white tile.

“Irene?” The voice was small, and laced with guilt.

“Get out.” Irene growled through clenched teeth, the pinpricks of hot tears making themselves known.

“Irene please.. I’m sorry.” Wendy continues, her footsteps soft and unsure towards the stall that Irene was shut in.

“I said GET OUT. You stupid d-dyke.” fumbling on the last word. She didn’t want to say it, but she wanted Wendy to stop bothering her. Forever.

Wendy inhaled sharply, and huffed. She stomped out of the bathroom, and slammed the door behind her.

Irene couldn’t hold it back anymore. She cried until the final school bell rang, walking home cradling Wendy’s cardigan and thinking of what could have been, if Wendy were a boy.

…

And now here Irene stands in front of her high school crush, the one she had called a homophobic slur, and who probably hated her guts. For all Wendy knew, Irene hated her too, so there was no use dropping the facade now.

Wendy was just as beautiful as Irene remembered her to be. Soft doe eyes framed by wispy bangs, except they were dirty blonde now.

“How are you doing, homophobe?” Wendy says, shooting a glare at Irene. She was leaned up against her door, trying to make herself look bigger.

“You look stupid trying to make yourself look taller, Seungwan .” Irene says, emphasizing the woman’s other name.

Wendy scrunched her face up menacingly, and was preparing a response, but Irene butted in before she could.

“And I’m not a homophobe, I just didn’t know how to get you to leave me alone. I’m straight.” Irene lies.

Wendy puts her hands on her hips, open to form a response before Irene cuts in again.

“Sorry.” she spits out, crossing her arms over her chest.

Wendy sighs loudly.

“Can I speak now?”

Irene refuses to respond.

“Irene, I know you’re not straight, first of all.”

Irene narrows her eyes in response, daring Wendy to continue. Wendy, as usual, is unfazed, and only shoots up a brow before continuing.

“But would you like to come in for cookies, Joohyun?” Wendy offers. Despite extending her courtesies to Irene, she still looks angry, and Irene couldn’t blame her. Irene refuses to move, gesture, or speak.

Wendy sighs and waves her in, Irene following her reluctantly.

The apartment was well decorated. It was homey, and color coordinated throughout the house. A menagerie of knick knacks, high school trophies, and assorted memorabilia littered the shelves.

Wendy lead her to the small dining room table, with enough room for four. Wendy pulled out her own chair with a grating screech, and sat with her hands clasped, waiting for Irene to sit down. The plate of cookies on the table smelled mesmerizing, an aromatic mix of Wendy’s trademark vanilla and fresh baked cookies. The familiar smellr was oddly comforting in the new surroundings Irene found herself in.

Irene pulled out the chair across from Wendy gently, trying to avoid the scratching sound Wendy’s own chair had made. Irene sat and stared at the cookies.

“Take one.” Wendy said.

Irene was taken aback by the lack of Wendy’s typically bubbly personality. She expected it of course, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t unsettling.

Irene took a cookie, and bit into it. The cookies were so fresh that the insides were still gooey and impossibly warm. And damn were they good.

“Eh.” Irene says, shrugging her shoulders.

Wendy visibly tenses, it’s obvious she’s not used to hearing anything but the best.

“You must not have taste, then.” Wendy says, an hint of annoyance in her tone. She grabs one of the cookies, and takes a bite.

“Hmm… Well then I guess I was wrong for liking you back in high school then? Since I have no taste?” Irene counters.

Wendy chokes on her cookie, an amused grin spreading on Irene’s face. Once Wendy regains her composure, her brows furrow and she rests her chin on the palm of her hand.

“That doesn’t explain why you denied me in front of the whole school and then called me a dyke though, now does it, Joohyun?” Wendy says, malice in her tone.

“It doesn’t need to be explained.” Irene says, voice taut. “Now are we going to discuss being roommates or is that off the table?”

Wendy frowns. “I’m fine with you living here. It’s not like we have to talk to each other, considering how short you’re already being.”

“I don’t need a friend. I need a place to live.” Irene says.

They both awkwardly chomp on the remainder of the cookies, when Irene speaks up again.

“If you’re going to, I’d just rather you deny me now than later.I can’t afford to be house searching in the middle of the semester because you don’t wanna deal with me anymore. You already managed to get me kicked out of one house.” Irene says, inspecting the tips of her fingernails boredly.

“What?” Wendy says, her voice betraying her guilt and confusion.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Irene starts tapping her fingernails on the table anxiously.

“Yeah well your stupid little stunt back in junior year got me kicked out of my house by my homophobic mother.” Irene’s voice shakes with the last syllables.

Wendy looks down, refusing to make eye contact with Irene.

The silence was deafening.

“I’m sorry Joohyun..” Wendy trails off.

“It’s the past. I just need somewhere to live, now.” Irene finished, snippier than she intended.

“I understand. You can move in next week, if that’s convenient.” There’s a pause. “Joohyun I truly am so sor-”

“I’d like to forget it.” Irene interrupted. She stood from her chair, the grating of its four legs on linoleum making Wendy wince.

Irene shouldered her purse, and walked towards the door.

“I’ll see you next week, Wendy.”

She slammed the door behind her and made a beeline for her car. She didn’t want to look at Wendy right now, or even risk her coming after Irene.

Irene pulled out of the parking spot and drove away, the tears in her eyes masking her vision.  She thinks about her past, about Wendy, and about all the things she would have changed. And she thinks about how she possibly just made the biggest mistake of her life, becoming roommates with the girl she might still have feelings for, after all these years.