No, We Don't Come Easy

February 2nd, 2009

The next morning, things were rather awkward between Wendy and Kennedy. After all, Kennedy had confessed his feelings for her. She didn't know exactly what to think of the situation, and she didn't know how she had felt about him. They were both confused, but Kennedy figured he was going to do it sometime, so it wasn't exactly a bad thing that he had done it the previous night.

They both had pretty much ignored each other the entire morning, and Kennedy was fed up with it. He wanted so bad to talk to her and to hear her voice. She wanted nothing more than to figure out what was going on between them. Kennedy knew he had done the right thing: she asked a question and he gave her the honest truth.

Kennedy had gone back to Trent's house for the day and was cleaning up a little. He did the dishes quickly and started his laundry, then cleaned up the living room he had left a mess when he went to Wendy's house. He did some business for the band, then took a quick shower and collapsed onto the couch, placing his hands behind his head.

He caught a glimpse of a photo sitting on the coffee table, then sat up and glanced at it. It was the photo Wendy had took of him at the circus. He smiled; the balloon animal sat perfectly on his head and he had a sly smile on his face while he leaned on the car. His arms were folded loosely across his chest and one leg was crossed over the other. You could clearly see the fireworks in the background blasting off; a collage of reds and blues and greens. Kennedy smiled a little at the fond memory, then set the photo back down and ran his hands through his hair quickly. He simply couldn't stand not speaking to Wendy. After only five days, he had become quite attached to the girl. She had him wrapped around her little finger easily. And she knew it, too. Wendy knew Kennedy enjoyed spending his time with her; she had caught him stealing glances at her from time to time. But she wasn't so innocent in the least bit. She wanted so badly to go over to Trent's house and simply talk to Kennedy, but she would need a reason.

Of course she had a reason; but it wasn't one she had wanted to face. So she looked around her room and smiled once she found one; Kennedy's black and white striped sweater was laying on the small couch in her bedroom. Wendy walked over to it with happiness, then placed it in her hands and made her way over to Kennedy's quickly. She finally got up the courage and rang the doorbell.

Kennedy sat up and glanced out the window, causing his breath to catch in his throat. Wendy stood there, looking at her feet and resting her hands on her hips. Kennedy sighed nervously, then stood up and walked to the door. He opened it slowly, then smiled when he looked at Wendy's face. The color was back to her cheeks and she smiled softly and looked at the sweater in her hands.

"I assumed this was your sweater - I mean, I had seen you wearing it the day before, so I thought I'd bring it over. So - here." She handed it to him and bit her lip nervously. Kennedy nodded and began to shut the door, but Wendy sighed. "Wait." Kennedy looked back up at her and furrowed his eyebrows together. "Shouldn't we talk about this?"

"My sweater's fine," he said smugly, then started to close the door again.

"Kennedy!" She looked at him sadly. "Please."

"You know," he sighed. "I was going to apologize; but then I realized I have absolutely no reason to. You asked me a question, so I answered. I did nothing wrong, Wendy." Wendy placed her hand on her forehead and sighed loudly, then pressed her lips together.

"Kennedy, it's been a while since I've - "

"Since you've what?" Kennedy cut her off.

"Since I've trusted anyone! I don't know how all this works, Kennedy!"

"How what works? Wendy, we've known each other for five fucking days. I don't think we've got much going on here."

"Yes we do," she muttered. "And you know it."

There was a moment of silence as Kennedy looked down at Wendy. She looked so helpless and scared. He started to feel guilty, "I'm sorry, Wendy." He shook his head. She looked up at him; confused.

"For what? You're right, Kennedy. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I still feel bad. I feel bad every time I yell at a girl," he looked at his feet. "Wendy - I leave in four days. Then I'm going back home for around three days, then I'm on tour. Nothing can be going on between us. It just wouldn't work out." Kennedy placed his hand on his forehead and sighed. Then he heard Wendy sniffle. He looked at her and saw her wiping her eyes. "Oh God, Wendy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." He tried to hug her, but she pushed him away and rolled her eyes.

"Save it, Kennedy," she mumbled, then walked away. He watched her as she walked across the street and into her house swiftly.

Kennedy slammed the door and leaned against it, resting his head in his arms. "Dammit!"