by Leanne Davis
Ryder palms the ball and tosses it towards the house. “I need a beer after that.” He is sweaty, too. Dani jumps to her feet as we come closer. I find myself walking near Wyatt and Ryder, like I’m a part of them as we head for the house. It’s disorienting. Weird. What the hell? Playing ball with an old guy and his son? Whatever. I’m ignoring it.
Long before we get to Dani and Tara, I pull my shirt down, letting my damp, sweaty skin soak into the cotton of the black shirt. I assume Wyatt won’t look at me. He might figure out the things on my back weren’t pockmarks from acne, but scars from my childhood. No reason to advertise that shit. I think Dani or Tara might notice though, so I cover up. The sweat stains my shirt and my jeans are just as sweaty. I wish for loose shorts like what Wyatt wears. At least he can move.
Ryder slaps a hand to my back. “A few more lessons like that and you’ll be killing it. You’re a natural, Wesley. Like Wyatt always was.”
“I was lucky to keep upright.”
“Those were Wyatt-level throws I was tossing out. Understand, you kept up. That’s an accomplishment.” I loathe the strange rush of warmth that fills my body. What? I like receiving praise from this man? This cop? I shake my head. What am I becoming?
“Come on, studs, let’s get some water before you guys pass out,” Dani says as she rolls her eyes and grins at the same time. Wyatt takes her hand and she squeals, “Ooh. The sweat! No.” And he takes that as an invitation to pull her closer and rub her against his chest. She laughs and screams and teases and oh, fuck! I can’t stand them.
Wyatt laughs. When he’s with Dani, it’s the only time I see the charm everyone else sees in him. He is mostly scowling or cursing at me. She definitely brings out the best of Wyatt Kincaid.
Damn. She probably does that with everyone.
We enter the house and fuck! If Wyatt and I don’t let out a groan of appreciation at the cool air in the same moment. Startled at making the same sounds at the same time, we glare at each other. Dani bursts out laughing. “You two could’ve been separated at birth, and that’s why you find the things the other one does, which is so like each other, annoying.” She’s again giggles out loud and this time, she has Tara laughing along with Ryder, who smiles as he heads for the kitchen before dunking his head under the kitchen faucet.
“Come on, Wesley, don’t go running off upstairs!” Dani’s words grab me. Pulling on the stair newel post, that very thought crosses my mind. I can’t wait to get away from all this family time togetherness and the Dani and Wyatt sickening cuteness. They are a perfect and adorable couple. I don’t need to see all that I’m not and all that I don’t have. Which is cool. Fine. I don’t need it at my age. But there is a portion, a small, tiny portion that longs for that… intensely. It’s the younger me. The kid me. The me that was left alone and hurt and abused over the years. The me that was never cared for. And rarely played with or laughed and joked around with. Nothing was ever fun. No interactions with people. It never occurred to me that life could be fun.
I turn and Wyatt is challenging me from behind Dani’s head. She can’t see him. He’s half a head taller than her and silently eye-warning me to back the fuck off. Go away. So, of course, I smile and say, “All right. Sure.”
We end up out on the Kincaids’ back deck, drinking lemonade poured from a glass pitcher with fresh lemon wedges in it. It’s a hot day and Tara makes us an assortment of cold cut sandwiches and potato chips. This is how they are when they’re casual and easy. I can’t get my head around all this—the comradery, eating together, and spending time together.
There is a distinct familiarity and fondness between Dani and the Kincaids. She comes here often and fits right in. Two years and friends long before this. I see the picture now. What doesn’t fit is the hobo they found in the woods. Why does Tara bother to trash the lovely picture she made for herself here? Why remind herself of the sad things she knows, things that aren’t anything like this?
Tara and Ryder go inside with the dishes and we sit there. The sun sets in bright colors of pinks and oranges on the horizon. The gleaming river looks like a shiny quarter far out on the landscape. A soft breeze stirs the warm air in a heavenly response. I should leave. Go away. Let them make out. Cuddle. Fuck. Whatever these two like to do. I cringe at the thought. She isn’t like any girl I’ve ever met. I don’t see Dani ever fucking anyone. She would demand caring, concern, gentleness… a bed.
Which, of course, I don’t own.
Or not. I guess I don’t have a clue. The idea startles me. I don’t know how a couple like Wyatt and Dani might go about having sex. Does she play the virgin? Is she as shy as she seems to be in social situations? Or is all this hugging, touching, and public affection part of it? Something like trust? Comfort? I can’t imagine. I’ve never had anything like that with anyone; least of all a woman my age or older.
Fucking is all I know about sex. It’s not me being a prick or a player. It’s an act for me. It’s something I saw when I was far too young to understand and with kids who were far too young to be doing it. Everywhere I stayed—foster care, group homes, on the streets—there were too many kids the same age, so sex was just part of life. It was a way to make lonely kids feel not so lonely. To make the unwanted kids feel good for a brief moment and to distract them from the misery of their normal lives. It was all just sex for sex’s sake. An exchange of good feelings. There was never time for special attention or affection. It was never a close intimate act that signified anything for anyone.
And I never thought a woman or a girl was anything special before.
Dani, however, is special. I feel that. She stands out among all the people I’ve met in my life. Most of the people I met weren’t even decent, and there is something deep inside me that says Dani is unusual and different. For me, no relationship is ever going to be special or trustworthy or worth more than a temporary amount of my time or attention. I’m not even being cynical. It just is. It’s just a fact of life, and that’s fine with me.
That is, it was. Until I met this girl, this woman, although she’s so girlish at times. Naive. Innocent. I like that about her. I didn’t know I’d ever like that in anyone. I usually associate it with those who feel entitled, privileged, or belonging to a different class than I do. One who is presented with glowing opportunities. Our lives are on parallel paths that will never, ever cross or collide or even touch each other.
So maybe that’s why watching them is so hard for me. It’s so far beyond a feeling of jealousy. I can’t understand how they function on a daily basis.
For the first time, I’m attracted to a girl my age without considering her in terms of fucking her or her fucking me.
It bothers me a lot.
I can’t watch them. It bugs me that much. And I’ve watched couples fuck right beside me. Not actually watched them, but they were doing it in the sleeping bag beside me or the bed across from me or on the floor in the corner, whatever. It never meant a damn to me. But Dani? Holding hands with her boyfriend makes me feel like a priest and I want to chastise them for being too grabby, clingy, and inappropriate. Which is crazy-balls that I think that. Still, I stay out there with them. Dani includes me in the conversation whenever she can. She’s clearly uncomfortable trying to balance me and Wyatt. I should leave and let her have some peace because this clearly isn’t her fault. But I stay. As long as I sit there, they can do no more than hold hands.
Then… crap! I can’t take it anymore. I have to leave. Avoid the situation. Go back to being alone and quit caring over what some girl I have no more than a friendly rapport with is doing with her boyfriend.
Later, looking out the back window of the second floor, I wonder why. Fuck, I hate myself for doing that. Wyatt’s at the railing, staring out, his arms folded in a classic, pissed-off mode and Dani puts her hand on him, then kisses his back. I suck in a breath, backing up… duh. Why am I lurking in the shadows and watching? No. I don’t want to see this or do this.
But what is making Wyatt so
mad? And what is Dani so earnestly trying to make up for? And how could Wyatt risk losing her for some stupid, angry impulse?
DANI
Wesley leaves abruptly without a word to us. I stare after his retreating figure, startled when he launches himself to his feet, all dramatically and fast, which isn’t how he usually moves. At the café, he’s always on point, smooth and calm, even soothing in his deep, rich voice, and fluid movements. He’s never yet shown any real attitude or emotion. Only those directed toward Wyatt, of course.
Those two guys. As I get out of my car, I do not fail to see Wesley giving Wyatt first his right-hand middle finger, then his left, then lowering both of them and flashing them again, only this time together. Wyatt responds by throwing the football at Wesley’s head. Seriously? Are they ten years old? I’d be more willing to tolerate such behavior if they were. I can’t believe how they deliberately set each other off. On their own and with anyone else, they are both mature guys. Wyatt is usually decent to everyone. But these two. They spend more than an hour in a competitive display of who is stronger, faster, and more coordinated. Duh, Wyatt’s better at football, having devoted his entire life to it for fifteen years straight. For real. Wesley, however, decides to be all in and balls out.
They are incredible and intimidating to watch. I’ve always felt shy and unpopular and with my crazy hair, I’ve wondered how I could hold Wyatt Kincaid’s attention for two years. But to watch these two specimens of male youth and perfection compete head-to-head, I can all but fan myself before I swoon with rapture.
Tara flops down next to me, having changed from her work clothes. “Those two. Think if they run and sweat out enough testosterone, they’ll quit circling each other for dominance?”
I laugh. “I wish they would already! It’s so not Wyatt to be like that.”
“He’s never had his place in my life, this house, and even your life questioned before. He’s not handling it well. Plus, all this QB1 stuff was pretty intense when school ended. Well, you know about that. He did better than most all-stars by not letting it go to his head. But maybe it is now. Triggered by Wesley.”
“I didn’t expect it.”
“Yeah. Me neither. But then it all just happened and now it’s forced on him. I feel bad. Too bad he wasn’t at school when Wesley popped up here.”
“Will you just let him go, Tara? For real? When your deal is up?”
“I don’t see what else we can do.”
“What if he’s not even eighteen?”
“What if? I don’t know his name to even find out. We can’t force him. It wouldn’t be legal. We’d have to report him and all that. He’s got his own lifestyle for a reason. I just realized he wasn’t a criminal. This was just one error in judgment. I know how that is. Maybe I saved him from a stint in jail or having a record. Maybe for a few weeks he can see what a healthy family is like. My guess, judging by the curious looks and his constant watching, he’s never been with a family like us. I hadn’t. Not until I met Ryder and Wyatt. I never lived it and I didn’t think I deserved it.”
“You’re hoping he’ll decide he deserves it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have a plan. You were there—he popped into our lives one evening. So, I’m not really hoping for anything. I also know he might be gone tomorrow.”
“Without his stuff?” My stomach squeezes. Oh! No. I don’t want him to leave. Or just be gone. The disappointment at that possibility is sharp and fast.
“Maybe. I hope not. Dani, I know it’s not my business, but is Wyatt acting normal outside of how he is with Wesley?”
I pause. Tara never used me to sniff out any details on Wyatt. She was respectful of us. Me. Always nice. Always without fault-finding. I was so grateful she and Ryder were my boyfriend’s parents. They trusted me and Wyatt. We were allowed in his room if the door was left open. We often hung out in the living room, and they went about their normal lives. They sat with us sometimes or did chores or whatever. Tara and I often talk. We gossip about school or people we both know. We get along so well. And she never asks me to tell her things Wyatt told me or how he might be feeling.
But I noticed he was quiet and moody since he got home from school this summer. Which also was not Wyatt. Usually, he’s all smiles and in a good mood unless he has a reason not to be, but lately he’s been really quiet. I blamed Wesley’s presence, but even that was a far stronger reaction than the usual Wyatt.
“He’s been quieter since he got home at the beginning of summer. Before Wesley arrived.”
“I thought that, too.” She bites her lip. I appreciate she doesn’t ask me why. I don’t want to betray him. But I add willingly, “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’ve asked and he just said he’s been tired since school ended and needs to rejuvenate. Spending the summer here at home is just what he wanted.”
“Then maybe by adding Wesley to the equation, we took that from him? Still… he’s not usually like this.”
“No. He’s not,” I agree as we watch the struggle for power between Wyatt and Wesley. Ryder seems to believe he is just playing a game of football with his son and a guest. But I know there is far more at stake.
Wyatt is substantially sweeter and more interested in me this evening than most of the summer nights we shared together. I don’t want to blame it on the audience we have in Wesley, but he is the only difference. Is Wyatt putting it on thicker than normal to prove something to Wesley? If that’s the case, I don’t know why. Wyatt already won. He grew up with two parents. Two decent, caring, nice parents. And a gorgeous home and land. A scholarship. A university. Athletic stardom. He was big man on campus. Wyatt has countless friends and could entertain a group of twenty tonight with a few texts or four seriously close friends. He could sleep with half the campus, I always believed. He had me all along, which I don’t count as any sign of great luck or pointing in his favor, but he did.
And Wesley? Well, he wandered around on foot with his backpack. That’s it. That’s the only “score” to put in Wesley’s column.
How is Wyatt threatened by Wesley? I could see the other dynamic occurring. But I think Wesley reacted to Wyatt’s instant and continued hatred by glaring at him and I notice Wyatt keeps straightening his body and throwing his shoulders back to appear bigger and more threatening towards Wesley. I’m not sure if Wesley could have reacted any differently.
When Wesley goes inside, Wyatt shifts and grabs my hand and tugs me closer to him. He pulls me so I’m straddling him on the lawn chair. Startled, I put my hands on his forearms for balance. He leans forwards to kiss me. Long, deep, and demanding. I talk around his mouth, “Your parents might come out!”
“They won’t,” he mutters. He keeps kissing me, his hands restless at my waist, sliding up my torso, to my breasts and back down.
“Wyatt,” I hiss when he’s up my shirt with one hand and pushing my groin against his with his other hand.
He groans and takes his lips from mine. “What?”
“What if Wesley comes back? Maybe he just went to the bathroom or to get a drink—”
Wyatt snorts. “I don’t give a fuck if he walks right out here.”
I stiffen. “Well, you know that I do. Does that even matter to you? Or is proving your manliness or whatever you’re doing more important than worrying about humiliating me?”
He immediately stops and sets me to my feet. I knew he would. That’s a pretty awesome faith to have in someone, but I have it with Wyatt. I know and trust Wyatt at the gut level. I know he cares if I like something or not. He also knows I don’t kiss in public, not with tongue anyway. I don’t get felt up at parties, either at his school or around Silver Springs. This is not new information. He never tried it or seemed to care before. What we do we’ve always done in private, where it’s secure. That’s what I like and value. There is no thrill in worrying that Ryder Kincaid might walk out on the deck and see his son’s hand up my shirt or that Wesley might walk out and see me dry-humping Wyatt. Those scenarios don’t work for m
e.
Wyatt is on his feet. He runs his hand over his hair and rubs his head. He walks to the railing and stares out to the night, now covered in the soft white blush of a three-quarter moon.
I come up behind him and touch his back. “What is going on with you? Please talk to me. You aren’t acting like yourself.”
“I hate that fucking guy.”
I snort and rub his back more. “I think we all got the message on that. But what else is it?”
“I feel like I can’t be me in my own house anymore.”
“You can, too. You’re being way too dramatic about him. You weren’t acting right before Wesley came. I know it’s something. Talk to me, please. Wyatt… Please.” I kiss the back of his shoulder blades.
His back bows, and he turns towards me. “The team. My grades. My life. I’m just stressed over it all. Tired. I have nothing left for this shit.” I take this shit meaning Wesley, not me.
He turns and grabs me again, this time putting his face in my hair. “I wish you were coming up to school.”
“I can’t afford it.” I have it all planned, all the way down to my doctorate. I refuse to pay extra for general requirements I can get for less than half the price at the local community college as well as saving living expenses. It’s all about economy for me. Not experience. Wyatt’s experience in school is far different from mine. It reflects much of our personalities actually. I’m practical to the point of being dull. I like making plans and I love my plans, while Wyatt is a swiftly rising star. I don’t have much money, and I don’t come from a wealthy family like Wyatt does. He receives money from his sports and scholarships, too. He’s been awarded a virtually free education. I’ll have to pay for most of mine. By myself. And nothing will tempt me to waste money. I won’t be going to parties or on frivolous dates or seeing friends. I’m going to take all the classes I need for the degrees I want. Degrees that build on each other to get me the career I want. That’s my end goal. And nothing will derail me if I can help it. But I won’t spend money on tuition unnecessarily either.