2
Hayley
2003 — Sixteen Years Old
“I kissed her under the sunshine, and I’ll never forget the taste of her on my lips and my urge to kiss her every single time I saw her since.”
— Wyatt
I knewI believed in love at first sight the moment I laid eyes on Wyatt Barnes. I was smitten with his disheveled brown hair and hazel-brown eyes that dance when he smiles. I was ten years old then, but I knew we’d get married and have a bunch of kids one day.
After my parents divorced, my mother and I moved to the small town of Redmond.
My eccentric mother needed inspiration. She’s an artist, and Seattle didn’t have enough soul, she said. It pulsed with life, but it wasn’t alive. She needed the land, the grass, and the lakes.
Wyatt was the first new face I saw, and suddenly I didn’t miss the life I had before. For a ten-year-old, he knew a lot about stuff, and he swore to teach me about being in the town and the ways of the world. His parents were also divorced, and his mom moved here and remarried when he was a toddler.
I’d listen to his stories because there was nothing more interesting than the sound of his voice. My heart would skip a beat and butterflies would form in the pit of my stomach. I liked seeing the world through his eyes, bright and colorful because he was so much more fearless than I was. Not much has changed since then; I’m still enthralled by him.
He wanted to join the army and fight for our country. He wanted to be like his dad back then, but as he grew and got distracted by girls and parties and smoking pot, it sounded more and more like he was being forced into it rather than what he’d dreamed of doing his whole childhood.
I, on the other hand, was the quiet little girl who never took risks and lived by rules I often created for myself. He was the boy who lived on the edge. He was smoking and drinking beer at fifteen, and I wouldn't dare. He reminded me of Sharon, my mom. She insisted I call her by her name because we were two souls on a journey, and we needed to acknowledge each other as such. She’s odd, but I love her for it.
Despite our differences, or possibly because of them, Wyatt and I became the best of friends. We made sense. Even our mothers teased that they would marry us off to each other the first chance they got.
* * *
“You wanna see a movie?”He’s bouncing a soccer ball off the wall. His mother would have a fit if she caught him doing that. He knows it but does it anyway. A spot of dust forms in the place the ball touches, which he doesn’t seem to notice. “Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge” by My Chemical Romance is playing, thankfully, softly in the background. He usually has that crap blasted. I’m not into his violent music. But his new crowd is.
I turn my head slightly and observe my best friend. He’s tall for a teenager; his brown hair falls lazily over his hazel eyes. He turns toward me smirking. I flush at being caught staring at him. It’s always the same, this back and forth.
“Nah, I have tons of homework to do, three assignments,” I answer, reluctantly gathering up my stuff from the coffee table in front of us. The truth is, I could stay here forever, but it only makes my heart ache a little more. Despite being the first boy I kissed and the only one who turns my insides into jelly, Wyatt has never asked me out or said outright that he likes me. He is happy dating every other girl in school and making a big show of it. That doesn’t stop him from messing with my emotions. I often wonder why Wyatt looks at me the way he does, why he hugs me for longer than necessary or twirls my hair in his fingers. Why does he look like he’s about to kiss me whenever we’re alone? I try to tell myself that I’m mixing signals, but I’ve known this guy too long to be so off the mark.
“You have the whole weekend for that, Bella.” He grins at me, calling me by my second name, even though I hate it. “Give me tonight.”
My heart pounds in my chest at his words. It’s innocent enough, but when you’ve been in love with a boy for most of your adolescence, it’s like having the breath sucked out of you. My face flushes as he reaches out and trails a knuckle along my cheek. I wish he wouldn't do that. Lead me on when he doesn’t mean it.
“You’re pretty when you blush.”
Those words are a reminder of the first time he kissed me. My first kiss. I stick a tongue out at him and stand, my hands on my hips. “I have to go.”
“And the moment is gone.” He throws his hands up in mock frustration.
“What moment is that, Wyatt? Moments aren’t for friends.” I can't help the annoyance in my voice. “You have a girlfriend, and I’m, I’m well . . . taken too.” I don’t know why I say it.
A frown creases his forehead. “Really? Who is he?”
“What, so you can mess this up too? I don’t think so.” I laugh mirthlessly.
Wyatt never let any guy near me since we were in the fifth grade. I hate it. I hate how overprotective and possessive he is. Whatever he says to the guys have them running for the hills, and I don’t want that to happen with Logan. He’s special. He isn’t Wyatt, but he’s the only guy I want to spend more time with. I like him. He’s funny and sweet, and he doesn’t run around town egging houses and tonging every girl in school.
Logan and I met at a fair a few months ago. I lost my tickets and only realized it when I was at the front of the line, and he gave me one of his. We exchanged numbers and have been talking every day since.
“Come on, sweet cheeks; I’m going to find out anyway.” He pats the couch next to him, and I sigh and fall beside him. He rests his head on my shoulder, and I take in the familiar scent. It’s a hint of aloe and Wyatt.
“His name’s Logan,” I say, not feeling the need to elaborate.
He sits forward and meets my gaze. “He’s not from school then?”
