Page 26 of Full Split
I'm so lost in my thoughts I don't realize I'm about to pass another runner until I'm nearly shoulder to shoulder with them.
"Damn, you just had to show me up like that?" Wyatt laughs, and my mind clears. He seriously has no damn right to look this good.
"Sorry, I was in my head," I say with a short, breathless laugh.
Wyatt slows beside me, and I automatically match his pace.
"What's on your mind?"
I glance away, not wanting to admit that I was obsessing over him. Again.
He studies me for a few moments, then softens. He slows to a walk and reaches for my arm. "Are you okay?"
I stop and turn to face him. I think about letting it all out. What would he do if I said it all out loud? Told him how deep in this I am. How this isn't just physical, or some crush. How I'd give everything to have even a chance to be his.
My mouth opens, then closes, because I really don't know what to say or if I should say anything.
My phone vibrates. I pull it out and look at the screen, finding a message from Jeff.
JEFF: I had fun last night. Hope you have a good day.
Huh. I wasn't expecting that.
I look up into Wyatt's hazel eyes. He's still watching me, his expression unreadable.
"Yeah," I say, pocketing my phone. "I'm all good. See you later, Wyatt."
I jog off before I change my mind and do or say something stupid.
CHAPTER 10
WYATT
We wave off Brianne, Sid, and Aimee at the airport and head into the long security check line. I hate flying, hate airports, hate everything. Weston is on his phone, probably texting Aimee even though we literally just walked away from her. Niles has already struck up a conversation with some tall, muscular blond guy and his equally attractive brother. Or maybe they’re together? I swear I overheard him say they were brothers, but the thinner brunette guy definitely just grabbed the big guy’s ass and then blatantly winked at Niles. At least these guys look closer to Niles’ age, but that doesn’t do much to make me feel better.
As we make our way through security, I grumble the whole time about having to take off my shoes and belt, only to still get frisked. The TSA officer says excessive sweat can sometimes set the scanner off. That wasn’t embarrassing at all. Nor was watching Niles make flirty jokes at the definitely amused, and most likely interested, TSA officer that patted him down after he came through the scanner. I’m sure my hard look at the way his hand slips a little low on Niles’ waistband doesn’t go unnoticed, considering the way Weston pushes me along to stop me from shooting eye lasers at the son of a bitch.
It might help if Niles didn’t play along like he enjoys the attention. For fuck’s sake, does he even realize how much he flirts with every person he interacts with? He’s so goddamn charming. We’re all just victims to it, and I am no exception. He has been a lot less overt lately, but I definitely hear the innuendos and flirty tone in every other thing he says. Or maybe I’m just conditioned to hear things from him because I’ve become obsessed.
It’s outrageous. I haven’t been able to stop obsessing for nearly two months, dizzy from the games my mind has been playing with itself, exhausted from fighting the magnetic energy between us. But these last couple of days, it’s been crickets.
Nothing has felt right since we ran into each other the other morning. He seemed troubled, and I thought he was going to talk to me about it. Part of me was grateful he got distracted, because I’m a coward and thought it might have something to do with what’s been happening between us, but watching his face relax into a smile when he got that text… Who was it from? Was it that guy he was supposed to meet up with? Did he go on that date because I couldn’t say the words that would have stopped him? Did he kiss that guy? Touch him? Fuck him?
“Take a chill pill.” Weston breaks into my spiraling thoughts. He means the prescription I have to help me relax, because I hate flying that much. But the only thing I hate more than flying is not having my wits about me. I usually reserve the pills for very long flights. It’s only a couple of hours, then a layover in Atlanta, and then about five hours to San Jose. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to handle that. I’m just more on edge than usual, and it’s my own personal bullshit keeping me this way. And well, Niles flirting with the lady at the coffee counter isn’t helping.
He's gay. He doesn’t even like women.
Doesn’t matter, that smile is supposed to be reserved forme.
Wait.What?
What the fuck is wrong with me?Shut it down, Wyatt.
The small plane to Atlanta is bumpy and loud, and I spend the entire flight with a vice grip on the armrests. Our layover is only supposed to be about an hour and a half, but ends up being twice as long due to bad weather farther south.
“I knew we should have flown to California first,” I mutter to myself. I didn’t want to deal with LAX.
Our gate is conveniently located right next to an airport bar, so I end up having a drink and watch while Weston and Niles act like they’re twelve years old instead of twenty-one. If anything, you’d think their immature behavior would be another reminder of why I should get Niles out of my head. But for whatever reason, watching them perform stupid stunts does the opposite. The showcasing of his strength and flexibility, combined with his joy and sense of humor, is so incredibly attractive, I can’t look away.
