by Wendi Wilson
I loved the feeling and I never wanted it to end.
Chapter Nineteen
“What do you like on your pizza?”
Wyatt held the door to the restaurant open, asking the question as I walked in. Jett and Beckett had dropped us off in front of the building, reassuring me they would be careful while searching the house. I thanked Wyatt for holding the door and waited until we reached the counter before answering.
“I like pretty much anything besides pineapple and ham.”
“Hawaiian pizza is a disgrace to pizza lovers around the world.”
I laughed. “I totally agree.”
“How can I help you?”
I looked up to see a girl from school behind the counter, wearing a red hat with the pizza parlor’s logo stitched on the front. I couldn’t remember her name, but I was pretty sure she was a sophomore. As she looked from me to Wyatt, a spark lit in her eyes and the corners of her mouth turned up in a sultry way. If anyone could look sultry in a hat with a cartoon character on it. My palms started to itch as my blood pressure inched upward.
“What can I get for you?” she asked Wyatt, her voice losing its earlier chipper tones in lieu of a deeper, silkier timbre.
She was being downright suggestive. My temper flared as it became obvious she was going to ignore my presence and hit on Wyatt right in front of me. I took a small step forward but was halted when Wyatt’s arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me against his side.
“We’ll take a large pepperoni and mushroom, an order of breadsticks and two sodas,” he said, laughter in his voice.
The girl typed in our order and accepted the cash from Wyatt, having no idea that he’d probably just saved her life. I had murder on the brain as he took two empty cups and a number placard from her and led me away. We served ourselves drinks and found an empty table in a secluded corner. It was square with four chairs. Wyatt pulled one out for me and once I was seated, he took the chair next to me instead of across the table.
“She has no idea how close she came to death, does she?” he asked, reaching over and slipping his hand into mine, resting them on my thigh.
“Stop it,” I said, blushing. My temper had cooled and I was regretting my extreme reaction.
Wyatt chuckled. “Don’t ever stop,” he said. “I love it when you lose your temper, as long as it’s not directed at me.”
I relaxed, enjoying the feel of his hand in mine. “I do have a habit of blowing things out of proportion, I admit, but she was blatantly flirting with you. Right in front of me!”
“Was she? I didn’t notice.”
One side of my mouth ticked up. “Good answer.”
“I’m a smart boy,” he said in a teasing tone.
He tugged my hand into his lap and leaned in, brushing his lips against my cheek in a feather-light caress. I let out a shaky breath and turned my head, pressing my lips to his before he could pull away. His fingers tangled into my hair, holding me still so he could kiss me properly. I was starting to get carried away when he stopped, sat up straight and looked in the other direction.
A waiter carrying a large tray was heading toward us. Wyatt thanked him as he arranged our pizza and breadsticks on the table and handed us some plastic plates, parmesan cheese and crushed red pepper flakes. I concentrated on breathing in and out, cooling the fire that Wyatt and his amazing lips had lit inside me.
“I heard him coming,” Wyatt said after he left. Dishing out a slice for me, he added, “I didn’t think you’d like to be caught making out in the middle of a restaurant, especially since our relationship with you is supposed to be on the down-low.”
Something in his voice made me say, “For now.”
He smiled. “For now.”
We each picked up a hot, gooey slice and took a bite, twin moans of pleasure emanating from us as the flavors burst on our tongues. Silence reigned for the next several minutes as we ate. I’d barely eaten at lunch so I was starving and Wyatt just liked food. Shoving a breadstick into his mouth, he turned to stare at me while he chewed it.
Swallowing, he said, “Try to persuade me.”
My head jerked back in shock. “What? No,” I said shaking my head.
“Come on, Savanna. It’ll be fun. You try to persuade me and I’ll try to resist. See how strong you are and if you can do it when someone knows you’re trying.”
“I don’t know.”
“Please? Just try,” he cajoled. “You probably won’t even be able to do it, anyway, without some strong emotion behind it.”
A tiny sparkle in his eye told me he was baiting me, using my pride against me to get what he wanted, but I fell for it anyway. I was never one to back down from a challenge, serious or not. It was a little endearing that he already knew that about me after such a short time.
“Stand up and show me some ballet moves,” I said in a firm voice.
Wyatt’s eyes widened and he leaned forward but didn’t rise from his seat. “You’re savage,” he said, shaking his head, making me laugh. “Thank God that didn’t work. Try something nicer this time.”
I took a deep breath and attempted to center myself. A thought struck me and I smiled. “Kiss me.”
Wyatt’s lips were on mine before I finished speaking and he pulled away almost as quickly. It took me a moment to catch my breath as I watched Wyatt lean back in his chair with a smirk on his lips. He arched a brow at me and motioned between us.
“Nice try, but no dice.”
“But…you…”
He shook his head. “When it comes to kissing, you don’t have to ask me twice and you certainly don’t have to use persuasion.”
I huffed and crossed my arms. There had to be some way to work up enough emotion to use my ability. I stared at his incredibly gorgeous, smiling face until it came to me. Strong emotion didn’t necessarily equal negative emotion. The first time I used it, when I was a child, was out of anger. With Jett, it was fear. With Wyatt, I couldn’t conjure either of those emotions. He was just too adorable and affectionate. Always a gentleman. I needed to use that.
I recalled our first date, picturing us on that Ferris wheel, Wyatt giving me my first real kiss. So gentle. So patient. So intoxicating. I remembered the feel of him nibbling on my lip, his tongue exploring, and my heart started to pound. I remembered his hands in my hair, guiding me, exciting me, and my breath started coming in short pants.
Wyatt’s eyes widened, his pupils focused on my neck where I could feel my pulse beating wildly. He met my eyes, all trace of a smile gone and leaned in closer. When I didn’t move or object, he pressed his mouth against my neck and flicked his tongue against the fluttering vein before kissing his way up toward my ear.
The tension inside me ratcheted up a few more notches and I almost forgot why I got myself to that point. Before I lost focus completely, I closed my eyes and concentrated, doing my best to block out the feel of Wyatt’s lips. Then he was gone.
I watched, incredulous, as he stood, grabbed my cup and went to refill it. As he walked back, I noticed his eyes were wide with disbelief. He set my cup on the table. As soon as plastic met wood, he shook himself and slumped into his chair.
“Wow.”
“B-b-but I didn’t even say anything,” I stuttered, still in shock.
“Alts don’t have to speak to persuade someone. You know that,” he said, taking my hand and squeezing it.
A smile pulled my lips up at the corners. “Thanks for the soda,” I said in a sassy voice, taking a sip to punctuate it.
An evil gleam sparked in his eye as he leaned forward, close to my ear. “What were you thinking about that got you so…emotional?” he asked, his tone inferring that I should replace “emotional” with “hot and bothered.”
My face heated up, but I stubbornly ignored it. I refused to be the loser in this verbal sparring. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I quipped.
“Yes,” he said, not missing a beat. “Yes, I would.”
“Anyway,” I said, pushing him away
with a grin, “back to the persuasion. I thought about what I was going to say and you did it before I even said it. That’s good, right?”
“It’s excellent,” he said. “Most Alts can do it, but it takes practice and focus. It took me and my brothers months of trying on our dad before it worked. Our lives got a little easier after that. We could guide his actions and he never knew it.”
There was a sadness in his words that struck a chord in me. I had a great life with my family, so I couldn’t really relate and I didn’t know what to say. He smiled before I could come up with anything and stole my drink, guzzling it down. As I laughed at his antics, something occurred to me.
“Hey, why don’t you guys just persuade your uncle to tell you everything?”
He shook his head. “We all tried our first day here.”
“What happened?”
“Jett told him to let us go back home and Uncle Earl refused. Later, Jett admitted to me and Beckett that he was using persuasion. We couldn’t believe it. So, we each tried, both silently and with words, and nothing happened. We couldn’t figure it out. Then Jett met you, and the same thing happened. I guess we should have put two and two together, but, well,” he held out his hands and waved them up and down, indicating me, “we got distracted and forgot.”
“You forgot? You meet not one, but two people immune to persuasion and you forgot?”
Wyatt shrugged in that carefree Wyatt way before standing. “Yep. We forgot. Wanna get out of here?”
He held out a palm and I took it without hesitation. I was still miffed that he and his brothers could forget something so important, but at the same time I was secretly pleased that I was the reason they were so absentminded. Not that he or anyone else would ever get me to admit that out loud.
As we walked the mile and a half to my house, Wyatt regaled me with stories of him and his brothers. Tales of them as rascally grade-schoolers had me bursting at the seams with laughter. He mimicked Jett perfectly, exuding arrogance and disdain so well that I’m sure I never would have known it was Wyatt. He tried to do Beckett, but he couldn’t quite pull off his humility or his calm demeanor.
I was laughing at one of his Jett impressions when he grabbed my wrist and ran, pulling me off the road in to a copse of trees. Before I could ask who was chasing us, my back was pressed against rough bark and Wyatt was pressed against my front, his lips ravishing mine. My fingers crept up into his hair, fisting it in a tight grip. Wyatt kissed me forever, but not long enough. His lips softened and the pressure lightened until he pulled back and wrapped me into a tight hug.
“Sorry,” he murmured in my ear. “I needed that.”
“No need to apologize,” I joked, my voice a little breathless.
He chuckled, releasing me and taking a step back. He took both my hands in his, swinging them to and fro like we were playing a two-man game of red rover. I returned his grin with one of my own. Being around Wyatt was so much fun, in so many ways. It was like, somehow, he knew I needed a little more joy in my life and he was determined to give it to me.
When we reached my doorstep, I gave him a peck on the cheek and whispered in his ear, “Thanks, Wyatt.”
He seemed to understand I was thanking him for more than the pizza. He winked, saying, “Anytime, Savanna from Savannah. Anytime,” and turned, trotting down the driveway without looking back.
Coming from his lips, even the nickname I’d loathed since kindergarten sounded sweet. I shook my head and floated into the house. As I closed the door, my phone chimed. Pulling it out, I read Wyatt’s name on the screen.
Jett pulled up as I was leaving. They didn’t find anything. We’ll call or text you later.
My disappointment that Jett and Beckett came up emptyhanded paled in comparison to the sweet spike in adrenaline I got from the little heart emoji Wyatt tacked on to the end of his text. I huffed, shaking my head. I was getting in deep, and I loved it.
Chapter Twenty
I woke with a start, my heart pounding as I sat straight up in bed. I took a few deep breaths, squinting my eyes and peering into the darkest corners of my room. I couldn’t remember every detail of the nightmare that woke me, but I did remember the teeth. Gleaming in bright moonlight and dripping with saliva, my mind had conjured a terrifying scenario of them ripping into my throat. I rubbed away the phantom pain and tried to block the lingering feeling of suction at the site.
A flashing light on my nightstand caught my attention. I leaned over and grabbed my phone. I had a text from Beckett. I swiped the screen and pulled up the message.
Sorry we didn’t call. Uncle Earl insisted on a late family dinner. Tell you all about it tomorrow. XO
The time stamp on the text read ten-fifteen. I must have fallen asleep early. I checked the current time. Five thirty-seven. I dropped the phone on the bed and threw myself back against the pillows with a groan. Closing my eyes, I tried to will myself back to sleep. I had another hour before I needed to get up and get ready for school. But my mind refused to rest. I continued to see sharp, fanged teeth on the backs of my eyelids, only they were covered in blood instead of saliva.
I threw the covers back and sat up, dangling my legs over the side of the bed. With only the tiniest, irrational fear that something was lying in wait under my bed, I stood and walked across the room. Opening the door, I peeked up and down the hall, but there were no signs of life. I sighed and crossed the space to the bathroom.
I showered and washed my hair, taking special care to blow dry it straight until it was shiny and smooth. I took extra time applying makeup, wiping off and reapplying the eyeliner until I had it perfect. I headed back into my room and searched my closet for something to wear. The bling-butt jeans were there, giving me pause.
Should I? I thought. I’d never worn them to school before because I didn’t want to draw attention, and in turn, ridicule to myself. But for some reason, that morning, I had no concern for the bullies at my school. I wanted to look good and those jeans looked good. I knew the reason. There were actually three reasons.
Wyatt had seen the jeans, and seemed to like them on me, but the other two hadn’t. Decision made, I pulled them from the closet and off the hanger. I put them on and stood in front of my closet mirror, turning front to back. They did make my butt look cute. If anything on my tall, lanky body could be considered cute.
I rifled through the clothes until I found a light, fitted sweater. It was black with a V-neck and would look great with the jeans and my Docs. The weather report was calling for cooler temperatures that day, so I knew it was a good choice. Careful not to mess up my hair or makeup, I gently pulled the sweater over my head and tucked the front into my jeans. A belt with a big, silver buckle completed the look.
I grabbed my phone from my bed and checked the time with a groan. It was only six-thirty. I had another hour to kill. I bit my lip, an idea blooming in my head. Before I could change my mind, I pulled up Beckett’s text and tapped the reply icon.
Are you guys up? I woke up early and I thought we could meet to talk about your uncle.
Tapping send, I dropped the phone and turned to my dresser to grab some socks. Before I could close the drawer, my phone chimed. Picking it up, I read the reply from Beckett.
Be there in 10.
A grin split my face as I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on my socks and boots. They were always so eager to see me. It made me feel special, like I was important. They didn’t play games like the other boys at school, refusing to call or text a girl to make them sweat, trying to appear aloof or disinterested. Not that that had ever happened to me, but I’d heard other girls complaining about it. I was convinced I’d hit the boyfriend jackpot with those three.
My mom was in the kitchen pouring a cup of coffee when I walked in. She started to ask me if I wanted a cup but stopped mid-sentence when she caught sight of me. I waved her off, grabbing a glass and filling it with water from the tap. I watched her, watching me as I drank it. She cleared her throat.
; “You’re up and at ’em early this morning,” she mused.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I muttered. Then in a bright and chipper voice I added, “Hey, Mom? I know this is unusual, but the Patton brothers and I have a history project to work on, so they’re coming to pick me up and we’re going to breakfast at Lucille’s. That’s okay, right?”
She stared at me for a moment, like her gaze alone could decipher the truth in my words. I convinced myself I wasn’t lying and tried to project a calm façade. It was a history project, just not for school. It was my history. And it was important.
“That’s fine,” she said. “Just don’t be late for school, okay?”
“Of course,” I replied, letting out the breath I’d been holding.
A lifetime of dedication to schoolwork, honesty and having no social life had finally paid off. My mom trusted me, making me feel a little guilty for not being totally honest with her. I decided to do better from that moment on. I wasn’t ready to go so far as to tell her the truth about my relationship with the boys, but I promised myself that I would be more truthful than I had been about where I was going and what I was up to.
“You look great,” she said on her way out, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Thanks,” I said to her retreating back as she headed down the hall.
A light knock sounded on the front door. I grabbed my purse and backpack, checking my reflection one last time in the mirror in the foyer before unbolting the locks and swinging the door open. Jett was on the other side and I said, “Good morning,” before turning to pull the door closed behind me and using my key to relock it. When I finished, I turned back to Jett.
His wide eyes roved up and down my body before settling on my face. He looked a little dumbfounded, so I waved my fingers in front of his face and snapped. He blinked a few times and muttered an apology before holding out a hand and offering to carry my backpack. I gave it to him and, feeling unusually confident, slipped my hand into his, interlacing our fingers.