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Wyatt
2002 — Fifteen Years Old
“I wish I could have told you then what I feel now.” – Wyatt
My father was an asshole of the worst kind, so when my mother divorced that lying, cheating fool, she did us both a favor. I was two years old then. I don’t remember him. As I grew older and angrier, I imagine he walked out of the house that day with a bottle of cognac in his hands down to the nearest whore house. My mother never painted that sort of picture in my head; that’s all me. I mean, what other reason would a man walk out on his young wife and kid? I never did understand the ability of men to walk away from their blood and never look back. I never tried to contact him, and from what I know, neither did he. Mom said they married too young, and it just never worked when the reality of life hit. She was too kind and honorable to speak ill of the man who left her with nothing.
My mother packed our belongings and moved to Redmond a month later to be closer to her parents who welcomed us into their home with open arms. My grandmother was a retired teacher and my grandfather a war veteran. Redmond was a quiet, developing town back then, long before the likes of Microsoft.
Mom wanted a new start away from any and all reminders of the man she once called husband. Hopefully instill some values in me my father couldn’t.
Redmond was one of those towns where you could spot a deer or bear in your backyard back in the day. This town, on the outskirts of Seattle, is where my mom met Wayne Barnes, a man my grandfather held in high esteem. He was a bit of a lone ranger, and my grandfather, having served in the army eons ago, was a sort of mentor to Wayne. It was a year after we moved here that Mom fell madly in love with the man in uniform, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Wayne was a bulky man who scared the shit outta me initially, but he had a big heart, and there was no denying he loved us both. You see love in the eyes; the way he lit up when he came home to find us in the living room. But he was as tough as nails too, and that was just what a kid like me needed, although I never did admit that growing up. I was a little shit, always getting into trouble around town when my father was away. Boy, did I play.
That was a whole century and some years ago. At fifteen, my history didn’t matter anymore than the day before. All that matters in this minute is Hayley Wells, in a pink two-piece bathing suit about to launch off the diving board. The board springs as she readies herself to leap, her hands outstretched, her knees bent, giving me a stunning view of that ass. I watch as her body glides through the air, and I understand why they call males hot-blooded; my blood singed me.
The odd thing is that Hayley never tries to be beautiful, nor does she try to impress me with her tits and thighs like the rest of the girls her age. She would rather spend her days reading in the garden or planting trees and flowers. Hayley couldn’t care less about the latest clothes and all the mediocre shit chicks dig these days. She has many friends, but she prefers my company.
Hayley is a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. Her pretty eyes and smile are all the accessories she needs. Trouble is, she’s my best friend. And there are rules against the way I feel about my best friend. She does a few strokes and floats around in the pool, her face above the water, her breasts in full show above the surface. Eyes closed as she soaks up the sunshine.
I can’t help but think about her all. the. time. Yeah, other girls pique my interest — I’m a teenager after all — but not in the way Hayley does.
I find myself doing shit I wouldn’t ordinarily do, like peeping out of my window like a psychopath to get a glimpse of her in a towel, or better, without it.
She would flush all the shades of red if she knew.
I want to know what her lips taste like, how she feels like in my arms. I’ve kissed a few girls over the years, but I want to kiss Hayley.
“You gonna lie there all day or come and join me?” She swims toward me and holds onto the edge of the pool with her arms. She looks at me lazily under her long lashes.
I instantly throw a towel over my shorts. My reaction to Hayley is insane.
“Nah, maybe later,” I tell her.
She uses her arms to push up out of the pool, and I throw her the towel. She dries off and makes everything that much harder, literally.
“I’m beat anyway. I should get a tan. I’m starting to look like a vampire. Whatcha reading?” She sinks into the lounge chair next to me. I let my eyes roam over the curve of her breast, her smooth stomach, and finally, that little piece of cloth covering her—
I clear my throat, picking up my book, trying to distract myself from the direction of my thoughts.
She looks over and scowls. “More army books?”
“My dad says I should prepare myself, know what I’m getting into.”
“You’re fifteen; you don’t leave for at least two years.”
“Tell that to Wayne Barnes.”
It was no secret how frustrated I am with my stepfather. Why promise us the world when he didn’t have that choice to make? He was in the service when he met my mom and came into our lives. And now he expects me to do the same thing. Follow in his footsteps. The idea of the army wasn’t what a teenager thinks about. No more girls, parties, or underage drinking was a horrific thought.
“I should do just that. Walk up there and tell your father, ‘Mr. Barnes, you aren't taking my Wyatt away from me’.” Her cheeks redden. “Oh, God I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, you did.” I drop my voice to a whisper and turn on my side, leaning over onto her chair, looking down at her. “You mean it too,” I say as I bring my face closer to hers. “Have you ever been kissed, Hayley?”
“Uhm, yeah, a few times.” Her cheeks redden again. I know she’s lying.
