They were sixteen and wild. It wasn't supposed to mean anything, but it did. To him at least. That was who he was. He cared about the people he wasn't supposed to and fell in love with the people who always left. That was the story of his sixteen years on earth. First it was his parents, then his various girlfriends. They were supposed to stay, but just when he nearly caught them, they disappeared. He wanted to believe in a forever with someone, anyone, but it never seemed to be true.

So when Wanda invited him over to cheer him up over his latest break-up, he hadn't objected. She was his good friend, best friend even. He had known her since he was a baby and she was the one person he could count on besides his sister and grandmother.

At first he assumed they would just play cards and smoke, what they typically did whenever they were on their own. He had even brought over extra money because he knew she would probably end up beating him as she always did. But cards wasn't what Wanda had in mind.

Lately she had become more promiscuous. Cry Baby didn't mind of course. He wasn't one to judge after all. Yet it did bother him to an extent. He didn't like seeing her hooking up with random boys at Turkey Point. They weren't half the man Cry Baby was, and he knew it. Then why did she keep putting herself in these positions? More importantly, why was she straddling him and sucking his neck like she was a baby attached to a bottle? And why did he like it so much?

His leather jacket was hanging off the bed, her freshly pressed sheets tangled in his feet as he tried to get his wife beater off. Wanda's hand was fiddling with the zipper on his blue jeans and he honestly didn't know how much longer he could stand her grinding against his hips. Cry Baby's tank was tossed to the floor and without hesitation his hands cupped her cheeks and he kissed her deeply, his tongue flicking against hers.

When they needed air, Wanda's dress was nearly completely off and her hair had become frizzy from the friction the teenagers were creating. Reality hit Cry Baby and he paused. What was he thinking? This was Wanda for Christ's sake!

"W-Wanda, what are we doing?" His husky voice surprised even himself and he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of it. One of Wanda's hands fell to his chest and she idly traced his already prominent muscles.

"Makin' you feel better," she muttered before diving in, embracing his lips like they were water and she had been in a desert for years. Cry Baby didn't question her after that.

He would never admit it, but Wanda was his first. Cry Baby was supposed to be all tough and cool, but underneath it his was just as innocent, to an extent, as the squares were. If Wanda knew, she didn't say a word. Once it was over, he tumbled off her and pressed the sweaty sheet to his chest, staring up at the paisley ceiling. The light bulb had burnt out a month ago and she hadn't bothered to tell her parents, leaving them to catch their breath in pure darkness. The blinds over Wanda's window let in a little light, but all he could see were Wanda's eyes awkwardly avoiding his gaze.

"This meant nothing," she whispered, fiddling with the sheet as it moulded against her full breasts. Cry Baby's eyes drifted to the mounds, but he quickly looked away, not wanting to get caught staring. He noticed one of her curls was blocking one of her eyes and with great care he moved it, his fingertips accidently caressing her cheek. Wanda flinched away, but he caught the weakness in her eyes, the need for care, not harm. Sure, she had good parents and friends, but there was a gaping hole in her chest only Cry Baby could see and he wanted to help but didn't know how. Maybe sex was supposed to fill it, he wasn't sure.

"Sure, nothing," he agreed. Cry Baby knew that was a blatant lie, but he was used to lying to save his skin. Wanda reached over the side of the bed and picked up her dress. He heard her eggshell skin slid across the sheets as she sat up and began getting dressed. Her back was turned away from Cry Baby, and he wanted so badly to just hold her and tell her she didn't need to sleep around to be free, but he couldn't. He just stared at her rising shoulders, her sloping spine, and wondered if he would ever feel her pressed against him like that again.

Once dressed, Wanda picked up his pants and tossed them to him. They landed with a defining thud that echoed in the girl's wallpapered room.

"My parents will be home soon. You'd better go." She said, the roughness returning to her speech almost instantly. She was such a hard girl. Yet today he had seen her soften underneath his hands. He didn't think he would ever forget that feeling.

Six years had somehow slipped from Cry Baby's hands when he found himself back in Wanda's room, sitting on her bed with a deck of cards in his hands. He was twenty-two, still a slicked back delinquent with a motorcycle, except now he ran the family business along with Turkey Point. His grandma and uncle had retired yet still lived on the property. He had set up a house for himself on the property and was quite happy there. Allison, however, was not.

It had been hard for her to adjust to the life of a drape, and after graduation, she went to college in another state and Cry Baby hadn't heard from her since. It stung at first, a searing ache that spread through his body like poison. That was what she was, a poison. Sweet at first, but deceiving too.

Cry Baby lived through it though. He survived as always. He still had his sister, his nieces and nephew, his friends, and Wanda. He wasn't sure what category she belonged to exactly. Since Allison's abandonment, she had come over to Cry Baby's and kept him company. Wanda kept the ladies away from him, knowing he wouldn't appreciate it, and made him eat even though he swore he wasn't hungry. She kept him alive. And while she tended to his broke heart, he began to wonder if what he was feeling for her was really love or something more akin to lust. He refused to be fooled another time, especially if it didn't mean anything. And it was Wanda. He didn't think she had ever loved or been loved before. She would probably laugh at the idea.

Wanda put down a pair of aces and smirked. "I win." Cry Baby pouted and threw his remaining cards on her mattress. She still had the same bed when she was in high school, and when his fingers brushed the sheets, he remembered that day when they were sixteen. He kept wondering if he had told her it meant something, if he had told her he wanted to be hers, would they be like they were right then?

"You won Baby Girl. I'm all out of money, we'd best stop before I have to hand out I.O.U's." Wanda laughed but agreed. The shades were drawn, the newly installed fan making an annoying humming noise above them, and Wanda was wearing his old leather jacket from the night before. The gang had been out partying and she had forgotten her jacket. Although his was too large for her, he thought she looked the closest thing to perfect as humans could come. When he came over the next day, he claimed it was to get it back, but it was actually just to see her wearing it again.

Wanda fell onto her back, stretching her legs so her toes curled, brushing Cry Baby's leg. He felt the clich├ęd spark and shivered in the relative darkness. God help him but she was really tempting him. She shouldn't be allowed to wear tight black dresses with leather jackets, especially his. It was unfair.

Cry Baby awkwardly lay beside her, folding his arms above his head, and waited for her to say something. She was always the first to speak, mostly because he didn't know what to say.

"Do you remember when we were sixteen and that slut broke up with you?" Cry Baby nodded, tilting his head to see her expression. It was blank, one of her masks, and he hated when she did that.

"Yup." He needed to say something, not sure where this was going.

"I lied when I said it meant nothing. I was just trying to save you the misery of getting involved with a girl like me. Wanted to give you a way out I guess." Cry Baby stared at Wanda, watching as the mask slipped down her face and he saw the same sixteen year old who had been his first time, who would always have a place in his heart. He saw the real Wanda, the one who loved counting out of state licence plates with her dad and helped her mom cook dinners without complaint. He loved that girl. He loved the real Wanda.

The man rolled onto his side, the mattress creaking as it pressed against the springs. His callused hand pressed against her rouge cheek, tilting her head so she had to look at him. He could see tears clinging to her lashes and he swallowed the knot in his throat, trying to say something coherent.

"Wanda, there ain't no misery involved with you. Never has been. You're the best girl in every Turkey Point in the country, in the world, and I think it's stupid that we're not together when all I've wanted to do since we were sixteen is kiss you like crazy. Cause you make me crazy, especially when you're wearing my jacket." The words erupted from him like an earthquake, and he waited for the earth to settle and Wanda to slap him like he had envisioned.

The woman blinked twice then pounced, latching her arms around his neck and dragging him closer so she could kiss him. She still tasted like vanilla and her hair still twisted perfectly around his fingers, like it was created for that exact purpose.

Cry Baby was the first to pull back, but when he noticed how puffy her lips were, he had to chuckle. God he had missed her.

"So I make you crazy too?" He muttered, teasingly nudging her nose with his. Wanda's blush gave her away and while her hand fiddled with his greased hair, she mumbled something along the lines of "shut up" and "kiss me". Cry Baby was more than happy to oblige his girl.