Page 41 of Full Split
And my mom.
And Wyatt.
Wyatt, just what am I going to do with you? And would Weston understand if he found out what I’ve started?
CHAPTER 14
WYATT
Now that Weston and Niles have officially made the national team, things are full steam ahead. Once we finally arrive home, they’ll be heading off to national team training camp in less than a week. That’s barely enough time to process everything they’ve been through, much less an entirely complicated beginning to a new… relationship?Situationship? Is that what the kids call it these days?
Whatever it is, it’s a mess and I don’t know what to do about any of it. I know that Niles and I need to talk about the hot tub. I’m not avoiding him. Not exactly.
I just don’t know what to say. How do I have a rational conversation about something I can’t even think about without reacting like a hormonal teenager? I just need time. Once the memory of that night doesn’t threaten to give me a full-body spasm every time I close my eyes, maybe then I can figure out how to articulate my feelings.
Luckily, we’re too tired to do anything other than crash. Weston locks himself in his room on our first full day back, only waking up long enough to let Aimee in when she arrives, and then they’re both lost in the dark cave of Weston’s bedroom. WhenBrianne comes by to drop off a breakfast casserole—bless that woman—she says that Niles has pretty much done the same.
I throw myself into work to get ahead on the projects I’ll tackle while they’re gone for training camp. It’s unnecessary work, but it’s safer than thinking.
On our second day home, we head to the gym for a team debriefing with Sid. He’s fresh out of surgery, in a cast that covers him from hip to toe. The cast and crutches can’t detract from the fierce pride in his eyes as we open the doors to a very loud, very excited surprise party.
Everyone’s here. Every fellow gymnast that trains at Sid’s gym, every kid the boys have helped coach, their parents, every trainer, and really every other person who’s been part of Weston and Niles’ journey these past couple of years. There are signs and banners everywhere, some made by younger kids and some professionally printed. Balloons, streamers, and a cake with their faces printed on it that takes up almost an entire table.
Sid has one of the kids wheel out a projector and plays clips from Nationals on the gym wall. Since we’ve been avoiding the news for the most part, and we’ve been so busy, it’s our first real chance to see any of the footage. It’s a fun way to relive every big moment and every medal. The whole party cheers like it’s the Olympics already.
Sid rewinds Niles’ second vault four times, shouting during every single playback, “Look at this! Look at this!”
Not that I can blame him. I was there. I saw it in person. But he’s right… Look at him.
Niles doesn’t look at me, though. He’s busy getting buried in hugs, handshakes, half-tackled by his teammates. Weston too. They’re having a lot of fun being celebrated. They deserve it.
Later, when most of the people have gone and the food tables have been pretty much decimated, I’m watching Weston lift Aimee up onto the pommel horse while I load empty pizza boxes and chip bags into trash bags. Niles walks over with a stack of plates to add to the bag.
“You shouldn’t be cleaning up after your own party,” I tell him. “Go hang out. Celebrate and have fun with your friends.”
“I’d rather have fun with you.”
I nearly drop the bag. Niles laughs and moves towards the next table. A little later, when most of the damage is cleaned up, Niles steps up beside me again.
“We should probably talk,” he says softly.
I close my eyes. “I know.”
“About the hot tub.”
“I know.” I groan before I can stop myself.
“Seriously?” he huffs. “You’re really gonna make me be the mature one here?”
“That’s not it,” I mutter. “It’s just… I’m still not exactly over what happened.”
“What does that mean?”
I shift and turn my back to face away from the main room, leaning back on a table. “Even just thinking about it still makesme feel like a thirteen-year-old having wet dreams,” I whisper, mortified.
Niles bursts out laughing. “Want to know what I had wet dreams about when I was thirteen years old?”
“God, no! Absolutely not.” I shoot upright and hold my hands out in front of me. “Not even a little bit.”
