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
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
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