Authors: Stacey Mosteller
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.
Chapter 17
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? When 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.
Shaking his head, he mutters something I can't understand under his breath before holding out a hand. "Come here Peyton."
"I can't! You're driving Wyatt."
He chuckles, "Just unbuckle and slide over. There's a seatbelt in the middle, you'll be fine."
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I place my hand in his and he pulls me over until I'm sitting next to him, our bodies are touching from shoulder to knee, then he wraps one arm around me keeping me right up against him. The radio is playing soft and low but the beat is intense. He usually has his radio set on country, but this is definitely not country. It's heavier, and sexier. He's humming along with whatever song is playing as miles continue to go by and we get closer and closer to his apartment.
Wyatt clears his throat before finally saying what's on his mind, "So, when I mentioned earlier that you were my girlfriend, you seemed a little freaked out. Are you against being anyone's girlfriend, or is it just me?"
Oh wow. Of all the things he could choose to talk about, this is what's worrying him? "I'm not against being your girlfriend, you just shocked me Wyatt. We haven't said anything about boyfriends of girlfriends and then you just told your sister that. I wasn't expecting you to say that." I've twisted slightly so that I'm facing him now, worried about what he's thinking.
He's still tense; in fact, he actually gets more tense at my response. This isn't good. Have I completely messed everything up? He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, thinking before he speaks again, "Oh."
I can tell he's nervous, and it's making me crazy. I wish he'd just say whatever he it is he wants to say instead of stalling, and I tell him so. "Wyatt, please, for the love of God, spit it out already!" I snap, imagining every bad possibility. We're almost at the apartment now, and if he's going to tell me he wants nothing to do with me, I'd rather he just got it over with so I can get my things and head back to my dorm. Drawing it out is slowly killing me.
"Fuck Pey, you really know how to kill a moment don't you? I've been trying to figure out how to ask you if you would be my girlfriend all the way home but you won't cut me a break!"
Admitting he wants me to be his girlfriend is the last thing I expect him to do, so I'm speechless. I literally can't think of anything to say, other than, "I want to be your girlfriend."
Chapter 18
Wyatt doesn't say anything for the rest of the short drive to his apartment. When we pull in to the parking lot, he whips his truck into his spot before he takes my face in his hands and slams his mouth down on mine. Desperate to get closer I pull my knees up underneath me so I can kneel on the seat, plastering my front against his side. Groaning, his hands stroke my body while our tongues continue to tangle. When they get to my hips, he pulls me over so that I'm on his lap and I put one leg on either side of his so I'm straddling him. Lowering myself slowly I moan when I come into contact with his erection and can't stop myself from moving against him. I've only had sex a few times, but it never felt like this.
Wyatt's hands tighten on my hips, and he continues to rock me back and forth on his lap until I feel ready to explode. The little sounds coming out of my mouth every time I brush against him don't go unnoticed by him, and when he hears them, he stills my hips. "
Damn girl
," he gasps against my mouth as I continue trying to move against him. We continue kissing while I start unbuttoning his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. He lets me get his shirt undone and I begin running my hands up and down his chest and abs. He's muscular, but not in that way most jocks are. He's got a six-pack, but he's lean instead of bulky. Tearing my mouth reluctantly away from his I start to pull my shirt up but he traps my hands against my sides.
"What are you doing?" he asks, pulling back to study me.
Panting, I tell him, "I want you to touch me." His hands loosen and I continue pulling up my shirt.
"Dammit Peyton," Wyatt groans, "not out here. I'm not having sex with you in my truck." Sex... in his truck... never before would that idea appeal to me, but now it really does. Right now, in this moment, I want nothing more than to have sex in his truck, in this dark parking lot where anyone can see us. Just the thought of it dampens my panties more than they already are. The more I think about it, the more I want to move against him and I begin to squirm.
Wyatt moans low in his throat before sliding me back onto the seat and off his lap. Opening the door, he scrambles out of the truck allowing fresh air in. Even in my confusion, I notice that the windows are all fogged up. Extending a hand, he pulls me out of the truck so that I'm standing in front of him. Bending down so that our eyes are on the same level, Wyatt growls, "Our first time together is not going to be in my damn truck." My face goes hot at his words, but I'm not embarrassed. His eyes are a dark teal color, the way they were this morning, and I have to squeeze my thighs together to keep from jumping him here in the parking lot. I don't know what's wrong with me; I've never felt this way about a guy before.