Recklessly, Impossibly, Yet Beautifully You

35

Wilbur's POV:

Looking back now I think it was so stupid how long I waited.

But then again it got me here and all things happen for a reason.

It was maybe a month since I told her that I loved her.

I believe it was April 11th at barely 3 in the morning.

I was on the beach alone looking up at the stars and I don't want to give anything else away to spoil.

Vanna's POV:

Wilbur told me to meet him at the train tracks.

It was April 12th. A date that would in a few hours mean more to me than any date of the year.

At roughly 11 pm or so I showed up and he was waiting there sitting on the little platform.

Without a word I came down and sat next to him with my head against his shoulder.

I assumed he was maybe having a rough day over everything with, you know, his mom.

"Do you associate this place with good or bad memories?" He asked after about 5 minutes of quiet.

I thought for a minute.

"Both. I've cried here ... a lot. I've gotten really angry here. I think I even vomited here once" We both laughed at it.

"But I've also screamed with pure joy here. I came here right after I finished my finals. I met you here."

He squeezed my hand still looking out at the distance.

And still to this day I'm honestly not quite sure why I started crying.

Maybe because I realized I met Wilbur there and the emotions hit, maybe I somehow subconsciously knew what he was planning, maybe, I don't even know.

I cried for a solid three minutes and then just started laughing and then I cried some more and laughed at the entire situation.

Wilbur was laughing too.

I sniffled and wiped my eyes still giggling.

"Hey Vanna?" Wilbur said in the same tone as right before he told me he loved me.

"Yes Wilbur" I said trying to mimic how I sounded last time.

"You know I think throughout the time I've known you I was convinced that at certain moments you were the one. I mean it started way back when you were in my kitchen cooking breakfast with mismatched socks on and I snapped a polaroid of it. Or whe- actually here."

He hands me a tiny sewn together book titled: My star girl.

On the front page it writes; I've told you this before and I'll tell you it again. I'll never be able to put you into words, so I'll show you instead.

"Flip through it as I go," he starts. "So again it started when you were singing eminem while cooking breakfast"

I flip the page and there's a polaroid of me leaning over the stove cooking bacon.