by J. L. Beck
I feel like I haven't slept a wink after spending the night tossing and turning. Every time I close my eyes I see Wyatt looking at me and saying things that tore my heart out. It's even more confusing now, because after laying here all night thinking about it, I also want to throw myself into his arms for the things he said. His words were harsh, but parts of what he said was really, really sweet too. Yes, Wyatt was angry, but he also admitted that I'm not the only one that feels this, whatever this is.
I can't stay in bed any longer, especially not a bed that still smells faintly of him. No matter how much I don't want to go out there and face him, at some point I have to leave this room. Hopefully it's early enough that he's still asleep and I can just grab something to drink and come back in here to hide. Opening the bedroom door, I know instantly that hiding won't be an option because Wyatt's sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands and his hair looks like he's been raking his fingers through it all night. His shoulders are slumped, and it's obvious he's as miserable as I am.
I shut the door behind me and his head jerks up at the sound. My heart squeezes at the sadness in his eyes. They widen as they scan my body, and I suddenly feel self-conscious. I'm wearing nothing but a tight white tank top and a pair of tiny form-fitting shorts that barely cover my ass. When his gaze moves back to mine, he quickly stands and rushes over, leaving me no choice but to back up against the door before he comes to tower over me. What is it with this guy and backing me up to things? I'm expecting his hands on my hips, or either side of my face, but instead he places them on either side of my head. Wyatt's arms are stretched straight out which keeps us from touching. He's still too close for comfort so I lower my head, staring at his chest instead of meeting his stare. He's only wearing a well-worn pale blue t-shirt and a pair of sleep pants that hang low on his hips and I can just see the "V" that girls always talk about.
"Peyton," Wyatt murmurs, and I reluctantly look up at him. He frowns, studying me closely, before he finally lets out a shaky breath and drops his forehead to mine, closing his eyes.
"I'm sorry," we both start and then pause to let the other go first. Wyatt smiles at me tenderly, making me feel self-conscious. He needs to know the issues I'm having with him really don't have anything to do with him at all. They are about things in my past, things with my mom, the rest of my family, and even Brad. He's basically paying for the sins of others. Yeah, I know it's not fair to him, but it's often an unintentional reaction on my part. I'm so ashamed of the way I push him away, but something within me drives me to. I can't hold his intense look so I turn my head away and close my eyes.
Taking a deep breath, I begin, "I'm sorry. I know I push you away most of the time and I can't even really tell you why. I care about you. Being around you makes me happy, even when you're pissing me off and demanding things I don't want to give. You don't take any of my crap, you don't let me hide and you always come back, no matter how shitty I am to you. No one's ever done that before. I've always felt like I wasn't good enough. I wasn't good enough for my parents, for my siblings, or even my high school boyfriend." Wyatt starts to interrupt but I put my hand over his mouth to stop him. I need to get this out, and if he stops me he'll never know. Gathering up the small amount of courage I have left, I tell him the only thing left I can think to confess. "Wyatt, I'm 19 years old, and I don't think I've ever truly felt like anyone ever really cared about me. Hell, until I met you, I don't know that anyone's ever seen me, and I don't know how to do whatever it is we're doing." At this point, tears are coursing silently down my cheeks and my arms are wrapped around my middle like they're the only thing holding me together.
"Peyton," Wyatt starts, his voice sounding gravelly, like he hasn't used it for a while. He stops and clears his throat before pulling me into him and placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head. I don't immediately relax into him but he doesn't seem bothered by it. Wyatt comforts me for a few minutes before speaking so quietly I almost don't hear him. "You deserve so much better."
His words cause something inside me to break, and as I clutch his shirt to pull him to me, I begin to sob. His arms are the only holding me up and I barely notice when he lifts me into his arms to carry me over to the couch. He sits, holding me so that I'm straddling his lap and my head is buried in his chest soaking his shirt with my tears. I feel him rubbing my back while he murmurs sweet words into my hair. I don't know how long we sit there before my tears finally stop and then I feel foolish. I'm supposed to be this strong girl, the girl who doesn't need anyone, but it's taken this guy just a few sweet words to have me bawling like a big baby.
He must notice the sudden tightening in my body because his hand stills on my back. "Peyton?" he asks, and I can hear all the unasked questions in his voice.
Sitting up, I can see the wet spot on his t-shirt from my crying, and I'm so embarrassed. I don't say anything, choosing instead to try stand up but he won't let me go. If anything, his hold on me tightens and I'm squirming to get away. I begin to panic but he pulls me back down to him muttering soothing words until I relax into him. All the fighting and the crying, not to mention the lack of sleep last night catches up to me and I fall asleep in his arms. This boy, who I hated at first, has turned into someone I'm not sure I can live without. That thought scares me more than anything else ever has.
When I wake up, I'm back in Wyatt's bed but I'm not alone. My head is resting on his chest, right over his heart and my hand is clutching his t-shirt in my fist. I have to force myself to relax my hand, which feels like it's going to be forever stuck in a clutched position. I've been fisting his shirt like I'm afraid he's going to disappear, and I don't even feel upset about it. I'm not sure if Wyatt's awake so I try to slowly slide my hand off his chest so that I can move away from him, but as soon as I start to move he grips my hand in his and tightens his other arm around me. We lay like this, not speaking, for a few minutes before he says, "Peyton?"
"Uh huh?" I murmur, not sure I want to know what he's going to ask me. His voice is hesitant, like he's afraid I'm going to say no to whatever it is.
His chest rises under my cheek as he takes a deep breath before he continues, "Will you go somewhere with me?"
Go somewhere? Where does he want to go? When I ask him, he just asks, "Will you?"
"I...guess?" I'm so confused. I don't know where he'd want to go that he couldn't tell me first. My answer was obviously the right one though, because the tension I didn't even notice quickly disappears and he's relaxed beside me.
He's still rubbing my back, making it hard for me to concentrate when he blurts out, "I want you to come home with me."
Wait...what? Go home with him? I'm stunned and unable to think of a thing to say in response. Wyatt's arm stills, tightening at my waist even though it's trembling slightly. "This is my third year here, and I've never asked a girl to go home with me. Will you?"
Even though I'm still in shock at the fact that he asked me, the way he humbly admits I'm the first girl he's asked makes me want to say yes. "If that's what you really want, I'll go." My voice is just as quiet, trembling slightly with the emotions coursing through me.
Bringing our combined hands under my chin, he tips my chin up to place a light kiss on my lips. As soon as our lips touch, the kiss deepens. His lips press harder against mine and the electricity that courses through me makes me gasp. He takes advantage of my mouth opening, tangling his tongue with mine. The hand that was clutching my hip moves up to grasp the back of my head so that he can angle my head back to deepen it further.
Wyatt releases my other hand, sliding his over to grip my hip as he turns to face me while mine curls around the back of his neck. We're slowly pulling each other closer until his arm is wrapped around my back and our bodies are flush against each other. Every place his body touches mine leaves my skin tingling and I'm suddenly all too aware of just how little clothing I'm wearing. I'm in bed with Wyatt, wearing only a tank top and shorts, he's in only a t-shirt and sleep pants, which do
es nothing to hide his growing erection.
As soon as I come in contact with his arousal I whimper, trying to get closer. Wyatt's breath catches at the sound and all of a sudden I'm on my back, my legs are spread around his and he's pressing against me in the most delicious way. Releasing my mouth, he presses kisses along my jaw, then down my neck where he stops to suck gently when I tip my head to the side to allow him better access. Holding my hips with one hand he holds me still so that I can no longer grind against him while his other clenches the sheet next to my head. I'm gripping his biceps so tightly I know I'm going to leave marks, but I'm frustrated at the fact that I can't move.
Wyatt stops kissing my neck, his breathing is just as heavy as mine. His body is rigid and I can tell it's taking a large amount of control to hold himself above me without moving his hips against me. Taking a deep breath, he rolls off of me so that he's lying on his side again while I'm still on my back, confused as to what just happened. Turning to face him, I know he can see all the questions in my eyes.
He takes my hand in his, lacing our fingers together before speaking. "I'm probably going to hate myself for this, but I think we should wait."
"Wait?" I can't even begin to hide my shock at his words. Hurt sets in almost instantaneously and once again I can feel my eyes welling up with tears. Blinking rapidly in an attempt to stop them, I lower my head, muttering, "oh, okay." Not even five minutes ago I was ready to do whatever he wanted, and now he's rejecting me. This, right here is why I never let people in. It only leads to pain.
Pulling back, I start to turn away from him, but he tightens his hold. "Hey, hang on! It's not what you're thinking Pey." His voice is so alarmed that I stop trying to get away. When I glance up at him, his eyes are a dark teal color instead of light turquoise and he looks as worried as he sounds.
"Then what is it?" I ask, confused.
Wyatt drops his forehead to mine before stating, "I told you before, I want you." He pulls me against him again, and I can feel his erection pressing into my stomach. "I can't exactly hide how much. But, I asked you to come meet my mom today, and the last thing I want to do is have sex with you a few hours before taking you to her house."
The disgust on his face at that idea is adorable. Bringing one hand up to cover my mouth, I try to hide my smile but it's impossible. Soon I'm giggling, and he's grinning at me. I go through so many mood swings around this boy that I feel bi-polar, but the highs he gives me are so worth the lows. Especially since most of the lows are caused by me.
"Come on lazy. We both need to get ready to go. It's a bit of a drive to mom's house." With that, Wyatt gets up, pulling me with him. When I turn to head to the bathroom, he smacks my ass lightly before heading over to the closet to grab clothes.
It takes us over two hours to get to Wyatt's moms. He told me that he grew up in a trailer, but I didn't fully appreciate just how small that trailer was until we pulled into the small driveway separating hers from the one in front of it. Turning off the truck, Wyatt makes no move to get out. When I turn to him, he's looking at me worriedly and biting his lip. It's apparent that he's nervous about bringing me here, and maybe even a little ashamed about growing up here. If he saw where I grew up, he'd probably feel worse but he needs to realize that I don't care where he grew up. In fact, I think I like him better because he grew up in a completely different way than I did. Unlike most of the people I hung out with growing up, Wyatt doesn't care what car people drive, or what brand of clothing they wear. He likes me for me, even though I can't figure out why.
To show him that I don't care where he grew up, I smile at him before I release my seatbelt and open the door. He springs into action and slides out of his truck to come over and help me down. Just another thing that most of my high school friends wouldn't bother to do, no even Brad. He never opened a door for me; he was always too busy making sure the "right" people saw him. Taking my hand, Wyatt pulls me out of the car before he says, "I know it's probably not what you're used to, but this is where I grew up."
I smile brightly at him as he takes my hand to lead me inside. The first thing I notice is that the furniture inside has definitely seen better days. My parents replace their furniture every few years; afraid that someone will notice a stain or that it looks like someone actually sat on it. This furniture is full of small stains along with a few rips, but it looks comfortable. The rug is a little threadbare, and the TV in the room is very small. You could probably fit ten of them in the same space as Wyatt's TV in his apartment. The living room and Kitchen are basically one space, with a small bar separating the two. A woman who doesn't look old enough to be Wyatt's mom walks into the kitchen, but doesn't notice us.
"Hey mom," Wyatt calls.
The woman clutches a hand to her chest, obviously startled. Her eyes widen, and she screeches, "Wyatt?!?" before rushing over to wrap her arms around him and squeeze him tight.
Seeing her obvious love for him makes me uncomfortable so I walk further into the room, looking at the pictures covering one wall in the small room. There are pictures of Wyatt as a baby with his mom, him by himself, and them him with a baby. The pictures chronicle what looks to be just about every year of his life all the way up to high school graduation. His sister has the same bright eyes as he and his mom, and all have a shade of rich, thick brunette hair. My parents have family photos, but they are nothing like these. Ours are all stiff, posed photos where everyone looks miserable. Wyatt's family photos are warm and you can feel the love among the three of them. This is the kind of family I wanted to be a part of.
A hand on my back brings me out of my head, and turning I see Wyatt's concerned face studying me. Leading me back over to where his mother is standing, he introduces us. "Mom, this is Peyton Williams. Peyton, this is my mom Lynn Parker."
Wyatt's mom smiles, "Just call me Lynn, hon." I can't help but smile at her accent, it's even more pronounced than my dads is. Wyatt's is much less noticeable than hers, and I wonder if he's been trying to downplay it.
"Hi Lynn," I say softly, smiling back into the face of Wyatt's really pretty mother. Her chestnut hair is wavy, and it hangs halfway down her back, she's about my height and has a nice, slender figure. She seems really friendly, but you can tell she hasn't had an easy life. I'm not very good with people so I have no idea what I should talk about with her.
Wyatt must see that I'm feeling awkward because he takes over the conversation, telling his mom about school and work before asking where his sister is. His mom tells him that she spent the night at a friend's, but should be home soon. Lynn gestures for us to sit on the worn sofa, then asks about my major, and seems genuinely interested in what I'm planning to do after college, unlike my own parents. She tells Wyatt about a man she's gone out on a few dates with, but tells him they're just friends. We don't talk about anything serious, just making conversation while we wait for Wyatt's sister to get home.
"Wyatt!" a young voice screeches before a mahogany haired girl flies into the room to attack him. Wyatt barely has time to get up from the couch before she jumps into his arms. He swings her around in a circle before setting her back on her feet with a huge smile on his face. Her face is animated as she tells him about the parts of her life that he's missed recently, telling him about her friends, her classes at school, and then she mentions a boyfriend. Wyatt goes from happy and smiling to stern and frowning in a heartbeat.
Crossing his arms, he starts asking questions about the boy she's seeing, questions she's perfectly willing to answer, she even tells him she wants Wyatt to meet this boy. He relaxes slightly, and I giggle, thinking this side of him is completely different than any I've seen so far. Up until now, she hadn't noticed I was even in the room, her eyes were all for her big brother, but when I laugh, she peers around Wyatt's shoulder to look at me in shock before turning back to Wyatt.
"Who's that?" she asks, folding her thin arms over her chest.
Wyatt looks decidedly uncomfortable when he answers, "She's my girlfriend." Girlfriend? Wh
en did I become the girlfriend? Did he ask me something while I was sleeping? Before I can start freaking out, he gives me a pleading look, asking me silently to not correct him.
"Girlfriend?!?" she screeches before coming over to me, bending to give me a tight hug. I'm not used to all this affection, so the best I can do is awkwardly pat her back while shooting daggers at Wyatt.
He grins sheepishly before gesturing towards his sister. "Peyton, this is Willow. Willow, meet Peyton."
"Ooooh, I love your name!" Willow gushes with a smile similar to Wyatt's.
Her exuberant mood is infectious and I have to smile back at her. "I love your name too. It's so pretty and feminine. Mine just sounds like a guys name."
Willow laughs before turning her attention back to her brother. We spend the rest of the day hanging out with his family. Wyatt tells them about his classes, funny stories about Clay and Emmett as well as Scarlett, Max, Annabelle and Kat. Finally, after eating dinner, he tells his mom that we need to get going and we head back to Wyatt's apartment after she hands him containers full of leftovers as well as some of the brownies she made while we were hanging out with Willow.
During the ride home, Wyatt is deep in thought and doesn't say much at first, which worries me. When I just can't take the silence anymore, I ask, "Are you mad at me?"
He doesn't take his eyes away from the road, but I can see his eyes widen. "No, why would you think that?"
"You haven't really said anything since we left your mom's, and I can't figure out what I might have done." I sound like one of those whiny girls that I hate, but I can't help it. The last thing I want is Wyatt to be upset with me. We had a really good time with his family, and I don't want the good part of the day to end.