“You only like me for my food. Admit it, you saw me and thought, now there’s a girl who knows how to eat.”
“Bullshit,” Oswald snaps, clearly affronted, even though it’s obvious she was teasing him back. “Don’t ever talk like that, Waylynn. I saw you and my brain scattered. There was no football, no school. Nothing besides the need to know more about you, and hell yes, I noticed your body, but I was not thinking about what you eat. I was thinking I would like to eat your puss—” She smacks her hand over his mouth, red-faced and wide-eyed, before he can yell the last syllable, but we all know what he was about to say anyway.
“Okay,” she murmurs softly. He glares down at her in warning but allows her to continue covering his mouth. “Okay,” she says again for good measure.
When she lowers her hand slowly, he grumbles. “Don’t let me hear that shit again, Waylynn.” He’s not yelling now, but his tone is harsh.
She tucks her hands between her knees and pretends there’s something interesting on the tops of her thighs. The silence is heavy. I think I know why Oswald got so mad. I saw how pissed he was when he heard the girls at the bar talking shit about Waylynn, and her having the same insecurities about her weight probably pissed him off because he knows where she got it—from chicks just like those ones.
Memphis glares over the top of her head before he tries to wrap his arm around her neck, but she jerks upright, coming to her feet and leaning on her good leg before he can fully embrace her. “I need to use the bathroom,” she announces. Her eyes are searching frantically for her crutches, so I jump up and hand them to her before she tries to get away without them.
The muted thump of her escaping the room fills the silence until I hear a door down the hall snap closed.
“Do not yell at her like that again, do you hear me?” Memphis’ quiet tone makes it all the more menacing.
Oswald scrubs his hand over the top of his short hair with his face locked in a heavy scowl, but he doesn’t respond. I’m pretty sure he knows he overreacted. He’s probably almost as embarrassed as she is.
All three of us lift our heads to watch the hallway she disappeared down when we hear the thud and squeak of her crutches returning.
“I think I’m going to head to bed. Getting around tomorrow is going to be exhausting.”
“You’re going to campus tomorrow?” Memphis rises to face her.
“Yeah, I got a handicap parking permit.” She tries to smile like she thinks it’s silly, but it’s super weak.
“That’s still a lot of walking between buildings,” he informs her.
“I know, but it’s just two classes, and I have a break between. I’ll be able to park close. Night, guys.” She pivots and flees, not giving anyone a chance to say much else.
Memphis’ shoulders are rigid as he shoves his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t turn to face the room again for several long seconds, making me think he’s giving himself a little time so he doesn’t react out of annoyance just like Oz did.
When he does finally turn, he looks calm, but I know the signs that he isn’t—the ticking of his jaw, the flat stare, his stiff movements as he returns to his seat and lowers himself to the couch. I also know he’s doing his best, so I pretend the façade is working and act like the show none of us were really watching has my attention.
Oswald finally lets out a loud huff about fifteen minutes later and jumps to his feet. “I’m going to apologize,” he grumbles. I never would have made it that long, not that it’s a competition, but I do think she wanted some time alone and I’m glad he respected that, at least for a little while.
Memphis grabs his wrist as he passes in front of him. Oswald looks down at his big brother, who doesn’t even have to say a word. It’s all there in his glare.Fuck around and find out.
“I know. You should have just slapped me up the side of my head and told me to chill the fuck out.”
Memphis releases his grip, and Oswald trudges away.
This is the second time I’ve seen them get pissed at each other. Both rightfully so, but I’m wondering if they can do this and if I have any business getting myself involved.
SWEET PROMISES
Waylynn
I’m so fricking embarrassed,all I want to do is sleep, but every time I close my eyes, I see Oswald standing up for me,to me, and my inability to react like a normal person and just say thank you. I got all freaked out because he was so adamant and a little intimidating when he’s usually so laid-back, but then I ran away to my bedroom like a thirteen-year-old.
“Gah.” I punch my pillow again, trying to get comfortable.
I hear someone outside the room just as I heave myself down on the bed and try to calm my breathing so I can pretend to be sleeping if they come in here. I’ll beat myself up later about still being immature, but I can’t face anyone right now.
“Wavy,” he whispers, and I tense up, forgetting all about pretending to breathe evenly. His footsteps are soft, but I still hear them as he walks around and sits on the side of the bed. The proof that I wanted him to come in is evident, considering I put myself in the middle of the mattress without even thinking about it.
“Sorry I yelled at you,” he says solemnly. I think about trying to keep up the charade that I’m sleeping, but his tone and the slump of his shoulders don’t allow it.
“It’s okay.”
