I scrunch my nose at his modesty. He is gorgeous with his dark wavy hair and brown eyes.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” I don’t have to look up to know who it is. “How come I didn’t get placed here with Bella and her date?” He emphasizes the last words as if he doesn’t know Logan’s name. He is either drunk or high. He has his arms draped around a chesty eleventh grader, Chassidy, her tits spilling out of a skin-tight red dress.
“Because the riff-raff get placed elsewhere,” I mumble. Logan casts Wyatt a warning glare, his jaw twitching slightly. He doesn’t like confrontation, but I doubt he’ll stand for this any longer. I don’t care much about whether Wyatt is pissed that I am here with my boyfriend or not.
“Can I have a dance with my best friend?” he slurs.
I shoot him a glare. “No, thank you.” He unwraps himself from Chassidy and reaches for my hand.
“She said no,” Logan speaks calmly, but there is a tone of annoyance nobody missed.
Wyatt stumbles back laughing. “So, what, you’re too good for me now?” His eyes challenge me.
I look at my hand in my lap and grit my teeth. Wyatt has no right to speak to me like that or embarrass me in front of my friends.
“I have always been too good for you,” I hiss. “Just leave, Wyatt. You have a crowd of your own. Stick with them.”
I push off Logan’s lap and stand. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you, so do us both a favor and fuck off.”
“Wearing your big girl panties, I see.”
“Oh, piss off. I’m going to the ladies,” I speak to Logan, kissing him on his cheek. My eyes burn with unshed tears and embarrassment.
Logan stands. “No. I’ll be okay.” I stare at Wyatt, daring him to make a scene.
I walk briskly to the bathroom, and when I’m safely inside a cubicle, I sink onto the toilet seat and let the tears fall. Why does my heart ache? He is the one who let me go. He is the one who thought he was better than me.
This was not the plan. This was not the way I envisioned my prom. Fighting with Wyatt was the last thing I want to do. We haven’t spoken in a year. Why does he have to make everything so complicated?
A knock on the cubicle door startles me.
“It’s occupied,” I answer shakily.
“It’s me.” His voice still sends shivers down my spine. What is he doing in here? I open the door ready for a fight only to be swept up in his arms. He slams the door closed with his foot, his hold on my waist steady and sure.
“Let me down,” I hiss.
He frowns and sets me on my feet. He backs me up against the wall of the small cubicle, and I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I suck in a breath. The closer he gets to me, the giddier I felt. My mind is in a state of shock at being this close to him. He runs his knuckles over my cheek, and his thumb traces my lips.
“I’m leaving, Bella,” he says, placing his forehead against mine. I search his eyes, and I can tell he's honest. “I have to get my shit together. My father thinks the only way for me to do that is the army, so it’s what I’m going to do.”
“I don’t care,” I say, the tears burning my eyes.
“Yes, you do,” he whispers, his breath causing the hairs on my neck to stand on end. “You always cared, and you always will.”
“Why are you doing this, Wyatt? You haven’t spoken to me in a year.”
“Because I’m no good for you; I’m messed up.”
He’s so close I can feel his breath on my lips. I want to pull him closer, wrap my hands through his tangled mess of hair, and– “I can’t think this. I’m with someone else.”
“Ask me to kiss you, and I will.”
“I won’t.”
He nudges my nose with his, and I feel the first tear slip.
“I’ll miss you, Bella,” he says, nuzzling my ear.
