Length of time in Briar Ridge: Returned in November 2024 (Before that, visits some holidays and will sometimes stay for weeks after a break up.)
Neighborhood: Downtown
🖋 Played & Penned by: Ní Ní ⋆ Syd
Meet … VANNA HUÁNG! ... She is best known for [ her long straight hair, red lips ] and [ a greater love for being abroad than for being at home ]. What is really important to know is that [ she just found out that her father had another family ].
Born and raised in Briar Ridge, Vanna is a second-generation Chinese American from the Huáng family. She has one younger brother and is the oldest daughter, but outside of her immediate family, she has many relatives throughout the Chinese community in Briar Ridge.
Vanna had always loved art and realized her desire to become an artist from a young age. However, she only began to pursue it seriously during her junior year of high school. Although she had a natural talent, she struggled to see the reality of a career in art because she believed she would eventually inherit her grandfather's restaurant or follow her father's path into the medical field.
Eventually, the right teacher recognized her potential and encouraged her to submit a portfolio during her junior year. This led to her receiving a full scholarship for an art study abroad program for her first year of college. After falling in love with Europe, Vanna decided to stay overseas to continue her education and didn't return home for several years.
It wasn't until her third breakup that Vanna finally made her way back home to Briar Ridge. She would stay for two weeks, and after feeling better, she would fly back to wherever she felt like going next, often with only a few days' notice. Things were messy overseas, and Vanna often enjoyed returning to her quiet home in Briar Ridge, where she could take a break and let things cool down before eventually going back to the various places she called home.
Vanna came and went for several years until she abruptly stopped after meeting her most recent ex. They were together for three years, and it seemed like she was finally settling down, but then they broke up again. Vanna returned home in November 2024. Although she considered moving back overseas to possibly rekindle things with her ex, something about her father has felt off lately, and it doesn't feel right to leave home just yet.
*character inspiration: Peggy Olson (Mad Men), Kim Ki Jung (Parasite), Joan Holloway (Mad Men), Donna Pinciotti (That 70s Show), Nancy Wheeler (Stranger Things)
HEADCANNONS:
Vanna has two NPC cousins who are mentioned throughout her threads. Simon, a plastic surgeon, and Lian, a housewife who has been cheating on her husband. Vanna is very close to her cousins; they are a rambunctious bunch who love to drink and often make bad decisions together.
Whenever Vanna returned to Briar Ridge after a breakup, she would visit the underground basement of a building where various aunties in the community gathered to play mahjong for money. Playing mahjong was very therapeutic for her. She had learned the game from her mother and often played for hours whenever she was experiencing mental distress.
Born in Briar Ridge, South Carolina, 1988
Vanna studies abroad and remains overseas from 2009 to 2013
Vanna returns home in 2013 for two weeks, and thus begins a cycle of her coming home and leaving from 2013 to 2021
Vanna officially returns to Briar Ridge in 2024
CORE CONNECTIONS :
Wes Parker (Childhood Bestfriend)—From the sandbox to the hallways of high school, Wes and Vanna had been inseparable since the moment they met. However, when Wes started dating Selin, Vanna noticed that her presence was straining their relationship. In response, she began to distance herself without providing much explanation to her best friend. At that time, Vanna was also exploring her own sexuality and felt it was necessary for them to grow apart. Throughout their adulthood, they have tried to maintain their connection despite the distance between them. Now that Vanna is back in town, it’s hard to predict what the next step in their friendship will be.
Elena Duarte (Neighbor and Family Friend)—Vanna and Elena grew up next to each other, and their families' friendship helped them become close friends during their childhood. However, when Vanna moved overseas, she struggled to maintain connections with others. In contrast, Elena continued to stay in touch with the Huáng family due to their involvement in her mother's care and the role they played after her father's passing.
WANTED CONNECTIONS :
THE OTHER SISTER Family Drama 🤝 Older sister vs Older sister
EX GIRLFRIEND WLW 🤝 Romance Overseas
Briar Ridge Natives (Friends, Enemies, Family Friends)
Overseas Naives (For characters that spent time anywhere in Europe from 2009 to 2021)
Past Hookup/Situationship (Would've been 3+ years ago, brief)
Beck huffs a soft laugh, that's more breath than sound, as he watches her polish off the pineapple and dodge his words with that signature deflect-and-distract routine she’s been perfecting since Fiji. He doesn’t call her on it—not yet. But there’s a flicker behind his eyes, a shift in his jaw that says he notices.
“I’ve already seen you in a bikini, V,” he says, cool and casual as he swirls the last bit of rum in his own glass. “The striped one. Costa Rica. You ordered two mojitos and left both in the sand.” He glances up at her, a slow smirk pulling at one side of his mouth. “So, nice try.”
But then his voice lowers, softens—just slightly—as he leans an elbow on the counter and mirrors her posture, not quite closing the distance, but enough to let the silence stretch.
“But, for the record?” he murmurs, gaze holding hers now, steadier than she probably aimed for it to be. “You wouldn’t be too much work.”
He lets that hang for a second—long enough for it to mean something—before looking away, pretending to scan the liquor shelf like he’s debating pouring himself another. He doesn’t. Instead, he shrugs lightly, like he’s brushing off his own vulnerability.
“You think I haven’t noticed?” he asks after a beat, voice quieter now. “Every time the water’s involved, you laugh, you stall, you pivot." He can't blame her but, like he's said... he's noticed. "You’re a hell of a dancer, Vanna. I’ll give you that.”
Just then, he turns back toward her, leaning into the bar just enough to make her shift—or stay. Her choice. “But I was there too, remember? I know what it cost you. I know what it took from you. What it took from me.”
His gaze dips briefly to her hands, then back up. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Not about the ocean. Not about Drew. Not about why you haven’t set foot past the tide since.”
There’s no judgment to his tone. Just knowing. A quiet sort of grief that’s softened into understanding over time. And underneath it, that gentle thread of something else—fondness, maybe? Perhaps, something more. Beck pushes her drink an inch closer, not because she asked him to do so, but just to keep his hands busy. Then, as if he can’t help himself, he goes on to add, “But... if you ever did want to try again? You wouldn’t have to do it alone.”
His smile is barely there now—just a flicker, a suggestion of something steadier beneath all that salt and history. “And I promise not to let you flail. I’ll be right there.”
There's a playful beat. “Unless it’s in the hot tub. Then you’re on your own. I have rules about chlorine.”
She pauses as he recalls a memory that Vanna didn't know she had buried. Her gaze narrows when he describes her swimsuit, her mind flashes back to Drew chasing her in knee-deep water, her mojitos buried in the sand. Beck, somewhere nearby, is probably watching the results of Vanna's endless teasing of Drew's awful buzzcut, a decision prompted by a pretty tourist from Serbia. Her brows eased, and she was brought back to the present. Vanna lets out a sharp sigh, finally giving in. "Creep," she calls him, as it's all she can think to say.
Vanna can't help but hold onto that moment he created for her, her eyes filled with gratitude. She hadn't intended for it to mean anything until he reassured her she wouldn't be too much of a burden. Suddenly, it meant something. There was something about the way Beck held her attention that made her believe him in that moment, and she felt her trust in him reaffirm itself. "Thanks," she gives in, tilting her head down with flushed cheeks.
She knew she wouldn't get away with just the free drink. Beck was good at calling people out, and sensing she was about to get an earful, she drank the liquid and put down the cup. Vanna straightened her back, preparing herself for a lecture. She listened carefully as Beck expressed what she had predicted. Like Wes, Beck always knew exactly what to say, and Vanna would always hide until she was ready to hear it.
Her head fell for a moment, avoiding his gaze before letting out an awkward chuckle. "Sorry, it's just... You knew him longer." She didn't want to say that he was Beck's friend, because to her, Drew had become a friend. Even though it wasn't for long, she still remembers him vividly. "It just feels..." Vanna didn't know how to say it outright: that she felt strange for how much Drew's death affected her, despite only knowing him for a short amount of time. It was brief, but it was the summer... and it was so much fun. He was so much fun. "Like I shouldn't feel scared." She shook her head, still avoiding his gaze after briefly looking up. She clears her throat, feeling it clench at the word scared.
after lots of late night research, customization, and adding to cart, samuel had hesitated on selecting the buy now button. some instinct, a voice he knew to trust and never ignore, had told him to wait and continue to shop around. the delivery on his order would take weeks anyway, and he supposed that was fair for what he was purchasing. it did little to quell the need for instant gratification and the ability to ride his new bike around immediately. so, on his way to grab some coffee as some fuel for much needed errands around town, sam approached the community board to see if anyone had posted a vintage bicycle for sale. it was a long shot, he knew that. “wow … there's a lot of missing cats in this town.” there was some astonishment in his tone as his gaze moved over all the postings. “if nothing else that might be something to look into.”
At the far end of the community board, Vanna stood on a small platform as she hung amateur artwork of varying quality. The collection included pieces from a bored teenager who had been sent to take art classes at the local recreation center as a form of punishment, alongside a mother who had devoted considerable time to perfecting her shading now that all her children were grown and out of the house.
She didn't bother to look over when she heard someone approaching, but when he spoke, Vanna turned, raising her brows as her gaze drifted to the various posters attached to the corkboard. A smirk appeared on her face as she turned back to push a tack into the corner of a painting that featured different types of plants.
"You haven't heard about the catnapper?" she asked seriously, though the context of her imaginary story made it hard not to laugh. "Some say it's an angry old man seeking revenge on the cat that scratched his eye," she begins, raising her hand to cover one eye as she steps down from the platform. "Others believe it's a senile person obsessed with cats, determined to take every last one for themselves."
She turns to face him, one painting left in her hand. "But my vote is for the creep that roams the streets at 4 a.m. with catnip, trying to lure all the cats into his van for catnapping."
Mateo’s smirk deepened as he took her hand in a firm, casual shake, amusement soon colouring his features. “Vanna,” he repeated, testing the name against his lips. “Yeah… that suits you. —Pleasure to meet you, too.” His grin softened just slightly, playful but genuine. Leaning back in his chair, one arm draped over the back rest, he angled himself to face her a little, radiating that usual effortless confidence. "What do I do?" he echoed, tapping a finger against the chair as if the answer deserved some thought. "Depends on the day. Sometimes I fix things," he said with a shrug. "Other days I break things." He tried to be coy, but seriousness soon took over. "I'm a tattoo artist, and I also work part time at Kelly's." He tilted his head towards her, eyes glinting with amusement and curiousity. Sometimes a friendly chat was just that.. but he was genuinely curious about the woman next to him. "What do you do?"
Her brow quirked as she couldn't help but grin at the way he lingered a bit longer at the sound of her name, more than a person typically would. She eyed him knowingly, tilting her head with a smile, almost questioning how well it suited her. Instead of asking, she lifted her brow in appreciation. It rose again when he began explaining his work. She broke into a smile when he mentioned it depended on the day, her brows knitting together with curiosity. "Cute," she commented, conceding that point. But when he revealed his honest answer, Vanna suddenly felt drawn in, as if he had suddenly become useful to her.
"So you're a part-time mechanic who sometimes breaks things... and you do tattoos?" she echoed, her voice rising with interest. "Oh, that's not fair! It's embarrassing showing off my ink to a tattoo artist," she said, feeling a surge of embarrassment about what she had already revealed to him. "You set me up."
When he turned the question back to her, Vanna hummed, crossing one leg over the other while resting her elbows on her thigh. She grinned and brought her hand up as if holding a brush. She then paints the air, eyes falling to his. "She paints," she answers. "Professionally," she added with a wink, making sure he understood she was serious. Then, an idea made her light up as she leaned towards him with a dangerous smile. "Do you ever tattoo work that's not yours?" she asked, her intentions obvious. "I think you'd look pretty hot with one of my florals down your back," she nods, trying to butter him up.
It was hard to articulate what an hormonal teenager with insecurity issues felt like now that they were so far removed from that part of their lives. Any lingering tension came purely from the fact that they'd never addressed the past and allowed it to continue to grow a gap between them. While Selin didn't suspect they would skip out of this restaurant hand in hand, or into life together, she figured that they could wave at one another if they crossed paths. She'd even take a tilt of the chin at this point. Regardless, it felt like a positive move forward.
She nodded her head because despite Wes' shortcomings in those years where they were on and off, she still didn't have a bad word to say about the man.
As Vanna explained her side of things, Selin deliberately took the last of her flights. While she felt almost certain nothing had happened between Vanna and Wes before, she could never be positive and if she was going to find out in this very moment, then she wanted to be drunk doing so. It meant that her worries would be valid. But they weren't. And Selin felt worse about it then when she'd started as she flashed the woman across from her another apologetic look. "You don't have to say that." She replied on how he hadn't liked a girl more. She didn't know how close they were nowadays or whether Vanna had been around if he'd dated someone else, but being in the dark felt safer for Selin.
She let out an amused laugh at the correction. It was clear that if they'd given one another a chance, they could have easily been friends as their humor seemed on par. "That's understandable and I guess it became easier for me when you weren't around." It was harsh but the truth when she was a teenager. "It was all my fault, though. The not being nice or receptive and nothing to do with you. I should have pushed him to see you and bridge that gap because I knew you were important to him, and I do regret playing any part in the rift." Selin had grown since then and while jealousy was still a normal emotion that she felt like anyone, she didn't allow it to consume her as it had in the past. "It's just something about a cowboy with his shirt off that makes you go a little crazy, you know." Selin teased with a shake of her head. "No, I'm sorry, though. I really am. And I hope that in itself conveys how sincere I am because I never apologize for much"
Her slender fingers gripped the glass as Selin spoke, her gaze fixed on her hand, which remained still despite the cold stinging her skin. For a moment, Vanna imagined what that scene might have looked like: Selin standing in the distance as Wes walked over to meet her on this metaphorical bridge. The idea was appealing, and as much as she tried to suppress it, she felt a twinge of bitterness that it never came to pass.
Still, when her gaze lifted to meet Selin's, her brows furrowed in discomfort at the way Selin described her childhood best friend—too closely for comfort. "Oh god," she said, shaking her head, trying to brush the image aside. "I have a line, Selin," she warned with a grin, jokingly.
Her laughter fades then as Selin finishes with a sincere apology, as if the way she approached everything wasn't good enough already. She went straight to the point and didn't try to cut any corners. Vanna appreciated that. "Thank you, that's—" she pauses, tilting her head to the side as she feels her cheeks begin to flush. That's really kind of you, she wants to say. "I really appreciate that."
After a moment, she finishes the remnants of her glass, tilting it towards her. "If it brings you any sense of security... you're more my type than Wes." Vanna thought it might be kind to offer Selin this peace of mind, whether or not it mattered anymore. "He's cute, but..." She trails off, allowing her imagination to finish the rest of her sentence.
Jordan caught her finger sliding along his chest and let a slow, crooked grin spread across his face. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, sharp and amused. “Begging?” he echoed, voice low, letting the words hang between them. He leaned back just a fraction, casual in posture but deliberate in presence. “Nah… I don’t beg. I negotiate.”
He tilted his head, holding her gaze, letting the smirk linger. “But I will work for it,” he added, clipped and teasing. “And right now? You’re making it… interesting.”
“Cocky?” he said, softer now, voice edged with humor. “Maybe. But you’ve got to admit, it works on occasion.” His grin widened, eyes glinting. “And, no, not lucky, just very good at reading a challenge when I see one.”
Leaning slightly closer, just enough to feel her presence, he let his voice drop another notch. “So… am I working for it, or do I get to skip straight to the attention part?”
Negotiate? Vanna's brows rose in disapproval, unimpressed by his attempts to negotiate. Her lips pursed into a slight pout as she listened to him try to propose some sort of compromise. Usually, Vanna wouldn't waste her time on someone who didn't meet her every desire. She rarely committed her time to men, so why would she want to compromise how she spent it? However, he did say he was going to work for it. Vanna scanned his body, nodding to herself. His physique was certainly ...something, and he was cute, but was it worth the effort?
She crosses her arms over her chest, contemplating her options. "I don't know," she says, tilting her head. "I suppose it depends on how good you are at working for it."
It was bound to happen after moving back to town after so long, but every time Adeline saw someone from her childhood, it was a shock. Maybe it was just that she had gone for so long without seeing any of them, that seeing their faces again was a complete shock to the system.
It was only a few seconds after noticing Vanna that they were locked in a hug and even though it had been eighteen years (ish) since they'd seen each other, it really felt like no time at all. "It's so good to see you, V." Pulling back from the hug, Adeline nodded and gestured towards her bag. "My second time this week because decorating my new house is deleting the cooking skills from my brain." Placing the bag down, Addie couldn't help but smile as Vanna grabbed her hands. "Oh, you don't have to do that! I'm pretty sure there's enough food in this bag to feed about five people anyway." She'd always had issues choosing food and instead opted for ordering it all for a mixture.
"But if you have five minutes, I wouldn't turn down sitting down with you and catching up quickly. But if you're busy here, we can make a coffee date or something."
Vanna grinned, pleased to hear how much people enjoyed the restaurant, especially when it was someone she knew. It filled her with pride and helped her forget about the burdens she felt regarding it. When Addie grabbed her hands, Vanna raised her eyebrows in surprise but then burst into laughter, realizing that not everyone jumped at the chance for free food like she did.
"Alright, alright. No scallion pancakes," she reassured Addie, waving to her brother to cut the order, as she had silently instructed him to do the moment the idea came to mind. "Oh, I’ve got five minutes,” she chuckled, gesturing for Addie to take a seat at an empty booth away from the other patrons sitting on the other side.
Sliding into the booth, Vanna got comfortable, crossing her legs underneath the table as she leaned back. “So, you have a new house? That’s exciting to hear!” she started, crossing her arms. “Are you living with anyone?” Her eyebrows wiggled playfully as she teased her friend.
Vanna was just 8 years old when MMMBop by Hanson came out. She had a massive crush on Taylor Hanson, which she would often annoy her family with by playing this song. If she's drunk enough, she will sing it!
Vanna will unapologetically get up and dance if she starts hearing the first few seconds of Your Love Is My Drug by Ke$ha. This song came out a month before Vanna turned 21. She got very drunk, and while she wouldn't consider this a 'guilty pleasure', Your Love Is My Drug holds a special place in her heart.
What We Had by Sody is a song that describes Vanna's feelings in response to a breakup, and it's also a song she would listen to! She can be both possessive and selfish one day, and distant and detached the next. "I don't want somebody having what we had." Perfectly describes her.
Again, Civan's arms kind of awkwardly froze around Vanna's smaller frame. Not as comfortable as she seemed to be with their proximity but still allowing it. His brows dipped, nearly touching in the middle, and he did his best to keep up with her tipsy fast-talking explanation.
"Prague?" Civan echoed with mild curiosity, a single word picked out Vanna's theatrics. His gaze drifted between her and the still looming impatient bartender. "Oh." There was something in his expression that shifted, confusion having melted away to a degree of relief and casual indifference. As if realizing money was indeed the problem was no problem at all.
"I do." At least a little bemused, the corner of his mouth upticked into a grin. "Most people bring a wallet." He teased. A small jab he felt that he could get away with, especially since Civan was currently fishing his out of the pocket of his well-tailored dress shirt for her. "See, you should be happier to see me." The man jested, his sarcasm directed at the irate bar employee. A card was flashed between his fingers, held out over the bartop. "I can pay her tab." He hadn't even asked how much it was or hesitated, just passed over the plastic.
It was tempting to ask how her father was doing, but this didn't seem the ideal setting. "You said your cousin left? You are here on your own now then?"
Vanna couldn't help but grin when Civan clarified that most people had a wallet with them. A soft giggle escaped her as she nodded. Her brown eyes sparkled at the sight of him holding a card between his fingers. Was this what it felt like to be a damsel in distress? To be swept off your feet? In her inebriated state, she found herself thoroughly enjoying this. Perhaps she was reveling in it a bit too much, especially considering how she clung to Civan.
With a pout, she nodded apologetically, her hand momentarily leaving his chest to express her frustration. "He left almost an hour ago," she began, attempting to find her balance despite her shaky knees. "I overdrank my welcome," she said, her brows furrowing as she questioned if she had expressed that correctly. After a brief pause, she let out a laugh that hinted at her annoyance, shaking her head as she tried to steady herself. "I'm pretty sure he was trying to teach me some sort of lesson," she slurred, her body swaying slightly.
After a moment, she wraps her arm around his, cuddling up to him. "Can you take me home?" she asks with a sweet smile, genuine and aware that he would likely say yes.
Beck doesn’t move at first. He just watches her, the rim of the mug paused at his lips. That grin of hers hits him in the chest like salt in a cracked knuckle—unexpected, sharp, and strangely familiar. The kind of smile you remember long after the moment’s passed.
He finally lowers his mug, exhaling through a dry chuckle as she leans on the rack like she owns the place. “You always show up when I’m locking up or washing resin off my hands,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “Starting to think you time it on purpose. Real slick, V.” There’s a softness that slips into his features now—cautious, worn-in, maybe even a little guilty—but it’s there. He crosses the space between them slowly, brushing past one of the hanging hoodies that still smells faintly like sea air and lemon oil.
“No promises on the Mai Tai,” he mutters as he moves behind the little makeshift bar—more counter than tiki—but there’s an old rum bottle with a cork jammed halfway in, and he starts pulling bottles with a rhythm that suggests he’s done this before. “But I’ll make it taste like you’re on a beach in the Keys somewhere with poor judgment and a good playlist.” He glances up at her once—just briefly, however the look holds. “And a hell of a lot better company. So there's that.”
The moment simmers between them. The clink of ice. The hum of the fridge. The quiet crash of waves outside. He slides her the drink a minute later in a mismatched glass with a chunk of pineapple skewered on a plastic sword. Definitely not standard barware, but definitely Beck. Then he leans back against the shelves, folding his arms, eyes scanning her face like he’s trying to match the woman standing here with the girl from that night. And maybe every version of her he’s seen in between.
“You ever gonna stop showing up just after the sun goes down?” he asks, quieter now. “Or is this your thing—waiting until the water’s too dangerous, too dark? To pop back up.” He doesn’t say his name—the friend who didn’t listen. The one who went out anyway and paid the price, haunting Beck like a ghost he can't get rid of, ever since.
But it’s there, thick between them, the weight of that night still folded into the corners of her smile and the way he keeps looking at her like she might vanish again. “I'm not mad, by the way,” he adds after a beat, almost as if it surprises even him. “I used to be. But I’m not anymore.” He nods toward the drink. “Just… glad you’re here in one piece. Since not all of us can be anymore.”
Her smile was wide and knowing as she answered his pointed assumptions with a simple tilt of her head and a playful nod. "Thank you." There was really no point in hiding the truth from someone like Beck. Over the years they had spent together overseas, he had come to see through her almost as well as Wes had. Although it still caught her off guard, there was a sense of relief in knowing she didn’t have to keep all her walls up all the time. Vanna followed as Beck moved behind the bar, giving him an appreciative look for being willing to make whatever drinks she wanted in the first place.
Beck's practiced moves don't go unnoticed by her as she leans over, resting her elbows on the bar while watching him. "You haven't disappointed me yet," she says with a reassuring grin, her arms crossed. "And if it's not good, I'll just lie and say it is." Vanna gives him a wink, shrugging. "I'm a good friend that way."
She's sitting on a stool by the time Beck's drink reaches her, and Vanna can't help but grin at the plastic sword sticking out of her drink. She picks it up. "Cute," she laughs, bringing it to her mouth and eating the pineapple chunk in one go. The sweet yet tangy taste of pineapple greeted her, and her eyes closed, greeting the flavor with a delicious hum. "Really good pineapple," she nods, giving him a thumbs up just before taking a sip of the drink. She hums again, giving him a nod to indicate that the drink wasn't bad either. She takes another sip, looking up at him through her lashes as he goes on.
Vanna licked her lips and placed the glass down, her gaze softening as memories of that night flooded back. Whenever she and Beck were in the same space, the events of that evening felt ever-present.
Although Vanna loved getting her feet wet, she had never been very good at swimming. It wasn't until she got closer to Beck that she began to show an interest in venturing out beyond the shore. However, that night had undeniably scared her. Beck's loss of his friend only intensified her initial fears about the ocean. For Vanna, it never felt like the right moment to confess the truth. Making his friend's death the reason for her avoidance of the water seemed insane, and she had not been able to shake those feelings since.
Still, this was Beck, and she could avoid the conversation for only so long. Eventually, he would put the pieces together, wouldn’t he? Vanna glanced to the side, adjusting her seat so that her legs faced away from him, almost defensively. "If you want to see me in a bikini, Beck, we can just hit the hot tub at the resort." A silence followed her teasing remark, and her playful grin faded into a soft pout as she rested her elbow on the counter. "I’d be too much work for you," she waved her hand dismissively, continuing to deflect the conversation. "After all the flailing around, you'd think twice about offering to take me out there for free."
Mateo huffed out a soft laugh at her joke, shaking his head as he reached back to scratch the back of his neck. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, still faintly amused, “seventeen-year-old me thought pain tolerance was sexy.” He glanced over at her, the firelight catching on the edge of her grin as she sipped her drink. There was something about the way she leaned in to get a closer look — curious but not judgmental — that tugged at his mouth again, threatening another smirk.
When she admitted she had no ink regrets, at least not serious ones, he gave a small nod of respect. “Adopting them, huh? Flaws and all,” he echoed, more to himself than to her. That sat with him. He liked it, really. He'd never really thought about it that way but, it was powerful. He tapped his fingers absently against the side of the chair, mulling it over until she asked him a question. The casual honesty in the way she asked brought yet another smirk to his features; she was refreshing, he'd decided. "Mateo. What's yours?"
She's impressed that he's willing to admit that about his seventeen-year-old self, tilting her head slightly as she shares a look of reassurance. "Your seventeen-year-old self was not wrong," she assures him. "Pain tolerance is very sexy." Vanna doesn't mention that she had a penchant for being weak in the knees for someone with a back tattoo, but the tone of her voice dances on the line of her words, having more than one meaning. "He set you up well," she jokes, leaning back.
"Flaws and all," she echoes him simply, allowing the silence to fill in what more could have been said. Her smirk matches his just before he reveals his name. Vanna nods as she presents her hand in a delicate manner in return. "Vanna," she replies, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mateo." Her tone is soft and honeyed as she nods in his direction after a moment. "What do you do?" she asks candidly, resting her chin on her palm as she looks at him directly, her foot dangling excitedly.
Jordan watched his counterpart carefully, like he was on one side of a tennis match. The losing side, sure, but he'd never admit that. He huffed out a dramatic sigh at her accusation of young age, but wouldn't allow himself to be deterred for long. "I'm sure you're not that much older than me," he muttered, probably sounding every bit the petulant child she thought him to be.
"But even if you were..." he drew a shoulder up into what he only hoped could pass as a loose shrug. "I don't think it would matter in any of the ways that count." He let those words land between them, free to be interpreted however she saw fit. "Besides," he continued, "if you don't always feel bad for men like me, clearly there's something special about me." Jordan paused then, batting his eyelashes for dramatic effect. "And I, for one, am flattered by that implication."
Vanna grinned, tilting her head over to the side at his assumption that she couldn't be that much older. She had heard that countless times, and it always amused her in the same way. When he reassured her that age didn't matter in ways that counted, she couldn't help but feel impressed by his boldness. Her brow quirked, egged on by his challenge. "Anyone ever tell you that you're a little too cocky for your own good?"
She shakes her head, keeping her gaze locked on him as she invades his personal space. Vanna can't help but scoff, raising her hand to let her finger brush against the center of his chest. She draws her finger upward until she lifts it to point at him, lowering her gaze to look at him through her eyelashes.
"I think you just got lucky," she says with a smirk, her lips spreading into a sultry smile. "But I tend to pay more attention when someone is begging for my attention." There it is—a real challenge. Vanna smirks again, her gaze sweeping over his features. "Are you? Begging for my attention?"
Wes felt a breath escape his chest, one he didn't realise he'd been holding, gaze dropping to the table as he worked his jaw. A small, sad sort of smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when she mentioned everything she'd been feeling, back in high school. There was something in that, something that twisted in his chest, and made him want to go back in time to fix things.. now that he was seeing it from her perspective. He nodded, slow, before his gaze lifted to meet hers, steady even as it softened. "I guess we were both pretty good at pretending back then, huh?"
His fingertips tapped against the tabletop between them, as he worked to admit — "You weren't the only one who felt lost. You'd stopped asking, and I—" His brows furrowed, a quick breath pushing through his nose, almost like a laugh. "I told myself it was fine, that I was fine." He leaned back in the booth a little, gaze drifting toward the very empty bar now before finding her again. "Wasn't fine though." His lips pouted in that twisty sort of way, like he was thinking real hard. And he was. "I wish I could go back in time to tell you how much that isn't true. That you were the coolest person I knew in that damn school. I hate to know you felt that way, Van. I hate to know we kept so many secrets from each other. —I'm.. I'm real sorry."
Vanna doesn't realize she was holding her breath until Wes tries to make a joke, and she feels her shoulders slump in relief. It feels strange to discuss this kind of topic at The Rusty Spur, but focusing on Wes's presence grounds her completely. As he opens up and shares his perspective, Vanna experiences a profound sense of relief. She finds her eyes welling up as she stares at his shirt while he talks, her brows knitting and relaxing with every word he speaks.
Her mouth broke into a slight smile when he told her she was cool, and a short chuckle escaped her at the idea of a word like that making her feel so emotional. She raised her hand to reach for his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking, as if a weight she had held for over two decades was finally being lifted.
For a brief moment, she looked into his eyes, her gaze softening as she held both of his hands tightly. Her hands were cold and soft, and her grip conveyed how much she missed him. Her gaze dropped to their hands as she let out a sigh of relief. "I missed you," she said, her voice hoarse and hesitant to get any louder. "No more secrets." She says it like a promise, like she was a child again.
