by J. L. Beck
"Yeah?" He turns to look at me curiously, not sure what I'm getting ready to ask.
Biting my lower lip, I think carefully about how I want this conversation to go. "Is this the couch you're planning to sleep on this week?"
"Yes," he says, drawing the word out for a few beats.
There's no way. He's over six feet tall! This couch is just over five and a half. I would barely fit on it, so I know he couldn't possibly be comfortable sleeping on it. I tell him that, and he just rolls his eyes, "I'm sleeping on the couch Pey. End of discussion."
The way he says it immediately gets my back up. "What do you mean end of discussion?" I screech. "We haven't even started to discuss it."
"You're right," he says with a nod. "And we're not going to either."
Oh, he drives me insane! "Wyatt, don't be stupid. Me sleeping on the couch would make so much more sense."
"No way Peyton. My mom would kill me if I made a guest, especially a female guest, sleep on the couch. Sorry, you're stuck in my bed." He doesn't sound sorry at all, and I turn more fully to face him. He changes the way he's sitting too and we're almost nose-to-nose.
It's sweet that he's worried about what his mom would think, but let's be honest. She isn't here, and she'll never know. Hell, I'll likely never meet her, so unless he says something, she'll be none the wiser. We continue to stare at each other, and the room is almost completely dark. The only light in the room is coming from a combination of the TV screen and a streetlight that's right outside the sliding glass doors leading to the patio. The flickers from the screen alternately lighten his face and darken it, which causes his expression to appear and disappear. It's mesmerizing. The first time it flickers, we're glaring at each other, but the second, he's no longer staring into my eyes. Instead, he's staring intently at my mouth, making me squirm inside. I lick my lips and his gaze follows the path my tongue takes, groaning as he squeezes his eyes shut.
Leaning forward, he barely grazes my lips with his and I gasp. Pulling back, he opens his eyes before saying, "I promised that I wasn't trying to fuck you by asking you to stay here." Cupping my cheek with a gentle hand, he leans down, kissing first one corner of my mouth then the other before pulling back once more.
"Peyton," he murmurs.
My breath quickens and I can barely manage a "Huh?"
"Maybe we should say goodnight." He sounds remorseful, and it takes me a minute to catch his meaning. Closing his eyes, he drops his hand from my cheek before scooting further away from me.
"Yeah, you're probably right," I say, my voice small. I know he's trying to keep his promise from the other night, and the hurt I feel isn't fair to him, but I can't help but feel rejected. Looking away from him I stand quickly and walk as fast as I can to his room. I don't make but a few steps before he's spinning me around to face him.
"Dammit Peyton, I can't read you at all. One minute you despise me, and the next you're looking at me like I ripped your heart out! I don't know what the hell you want from me!" He's practically shouting at me, and I flinch. He sees it, even though it's small, and his shoulders slump. "Sorry, that didn't come out right." The hand that isn't gripping my arm runs through his hair and he looks torn.
In an attempt to make him feel better, I tell him, "It's okay. I get it, really I do."
Wyatt's eyes narrow, "I really don't think you do. This -" he gestures between us, "is the most god damn confusing thing I've ever been a part of. I want you Peyton. I want nothing more than to take you into my room and lay you down on my bed. And sometimes, I think you want the same thing. I told you the other night that I wasn't asking you here to have sex, and I meant it. I still mean it. That's not why I asked you to stay. I asked you to stay here this week so that I'd know you were safe. I also asked you to stay so you wouldn't be able to run from me, from this thing between us. I care about you, more than I want to sometimes. You're a total pain in the ass 90% of the time, but the other 10% you're so genuine that I keep coming back for more. I keep coming back for that little bit of the real you that you try so hard to hide. That Peyton, the one who's real, I want to get to know you so damn bad and I keep hoping if we spend enough time together, you'll stop acting like a bitch and be her."
Holy shit. I feel like I can't breathe. No one's ever said anything like that to me before. Not even Scarlett and she knows me better than anyone. At least, I thought she did. My chest feels tight, and my eyes are burning, but it has nothing to do with allergies. Without even saying goodnight, I whirl around and flat out run into his room, locking the door behind me. He must've been right behind me, because I barely twist the lock before he tries to turn the knob.
"Fuck! Peyton, unlock the door." I say nothing, backing up until the back of my knees hit the bed and they buckle forcing me to sit. I'm shaking, gripping the comforter in each hand and trying to will the tears not to fall while Wyatt continues to beg me to unlock the door for what feels like an hour, but is probably only five or ten minutes before he finally stops. I begin to relax, only to startle when he shouts an expletive and punches the wall beside his door.
Silently, I get ready for bed putting on a tank top and a pair of shorts that are so small they look more like panties. Picking up my phone to charge it, I realize it's been on silent and is already flooding with text messages.
Wyatt: Please open the door
Wyatt: I'm sorry.
Wyatt: Peyton, please talk to me
Wyatt: Shit. I know I'm an asshole, please open the door.
Wyatt: Dammit Peyton, we need to talk. You need to let me explain.
I don't need to do a damn thing. Any progress we've made towards being friends is shot to hell now. First thing in the morning, I'm heading back to the dorms.
Wyatt: Will you please give me a second chance?
Second chance? At this point, it's more like tenth chance.
Wyatt: Fine. If you won't open the door, and you won't talk to me, I'll just text you.
My eyes roll heavenward. Obviously.... the multitude of texts show that already.
Wyatt: I know you're pissed at me. Stop rolling your eyes. I'm an asshole and I deserve the silent treatment. I really am sorry for what I said. That doesn't make it untrue, I just wish I hadn't said it quite so bluntly.
Wyatt: I like you Pey. I don't know why, especially when you make it known that you're not interested in me at all. You're lying to yourself though. You have to be. There's no way I'd be this drawn to you if you felt nothing in return.
Wyatt: You're probably making plans to run back to your room in the morning, but I'm asking you to please stay. Let me at least attempt to make it up to you. I know you're upset, and it kills me that I put that look on your face.
Wyatt: Jesus Christ Peyton, you've made me grow a fucking vagina. When Emmett and Clay get back, they're sure as shit taking my man card if they see these texts. I'm kicking my own ass for the things I said to you, but I hope you'll stick around to kick it too.
I can't help but grin at this one. He's making a complete fool out of himself trying to apologize. And he's right; I have been planning how I'll leave without running into him. But, I can't deny that he feels bad for it, even if he does say that everything he said was true. Deciding to think about it in the morning, I pull the comforter down on his bed and crawl in. The faint scent of his cologne still lingers on the clean sheets, and I inhale deeply trying to commit the smell to memory. My last thought before succumbing to a fitful sleep is that at least he gave me permission to kick his ass. How can I leave without at least doing that?
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 th
is 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 does 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 l
onger 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.