She ignores me. “Have you not told him?”
Dropping my hand to my stomach, I smooth it along my pale blue tank top, shaking my head subtly. It’s not that I’ve kept all my family stuff from him; he knows that my Gran means the world to me, though he hasn’t figured out she’s the one that creeps in the windows when he picks me up and drops me off. He knows I grew up in the country. And… well… that’s what I’ve left it at.
“Whatever I don’t know, we don’t need to talk about,” Wyatt says gently. It’s a tone that makes me want to lift my eyes to his, to confess everything he doesn’t know. “We’ve been on one date, I don’t expect to know everything about Bryn yet.”
Pressing my hand against my stomach, I fight the emotion welling inside of me. The soft defense that he’s taking on my behalf against Quinn. Asserting that there’s no shame in him not knowing whatever this is.
“Of course not,” Quinn says flippantly, like she doesn’t notice the battle raging inside of me, or the one Wyatt is fighting for me. “I just thought… doesn’t matter.”
I can’t find the nerve to look up at either one of them, but I have the sense that there was some kind of silent or mouthed conversation between them for her to say that. I should excuse myself. Go find the restroom. Give myself a minute. Reset.
Things have just been so fun between us. Everyone always tellsme I need more of that in my life, and I deny it. I convince myself that I do have fun, because I do. I love my time with Gran, because despite her good health, I know I only have a certain amount of time left with her.
With Wyatt, though, it’s a different kind of fun. I get to be a version of myself that feels carefree and happy. Not the girl I was growing up. Not the one my parents see me as. Not the one I am in my devotion to being with Gran.
Just Bryn.
“What up, Trip?” Liam’s voice calls from behind me.
Good, distractions.
From where I’m staring at the blanket, I can see Wyatt’s sandal-covered feet. Very, very white feet. He pretends to trip on the spot and really commits to the part when he falls forward next to me, catching himself with his arms in a push-up position. My gaze shifts to peer at him, but he’s looking in the direction of Liam, and probably Jordan.
“That video was pure gold,” Jordan tells him, confirming she’s with her boyfriend.
“I’d bow, but I tripped,” Wyatt says with a chuckle, unexpectedly rolling towards me, his head landing in my lap, face up. I bite down on my bottom lip when he comes fully into my view with his cheesy grin. “Hi, gorgeous.”
“They calling you Trip instead of Cowboy now?” I ask, a slow smile spreading despite the emotions roiling inside of me. When Wyatt’s face is lit up like that, it’s contagious.
He nods. “At least this one has a story.”
“Technically so does Cowboy.”
“More our story than theirs though, ain’t it?”
I run my fingers through the soft curls at the top of his head, my stomach doing that swoop thing again, chest filling withwarmth. I don’t dare say a word, so I just quietly nod my agreement.
He reaches his hand to my face, fingers stroking my cheek. “Wanna show me the water?”
I do. I want to be out of my head, but I don’t know how to do that surrounded by everyone. It’s like he can sense that and knows what I need.
Or maybe I’m just making it all up in my head.
Wouldn’t be the first time I’d made shit up that wasn’t there. So I’ve been told.
Wyatt flings himself forward and then gets to his feet, turning towards me to reach both hands out. I take them, letting him pull me up, and then look at the newcomers. A hello isn’t even out of my mouth when Liam is putting his hands up to shield his eyes.
“Fucking hell, man.” He squints. “Have you ever heard of the sun?”
Following Liam’s stare, I’m not sure whether to laugh or drool. Wyatt has taken his t-shirt off, and the sight of him in the sun is as comical as it is hot. This poor man. I hope he doesn’t think the nickname Trip is bad, because I’m almost positive it’s about to get worse.
His legs, which I noticed earlier, are ghastly white. Like they haven’t seen the sun in…ever. His forearms, up to where his t-shirt lies, are tanned golden. But the rest of his arm and his entire chest are just slightly less pale than his legs. Like he’s been working on figuring out what the sun is.
Jordan looks him over, bursting into laughter. “It’s not the worst tan I’ve seen.”
“But damn, it distracts from the muscles and tattoos,” Quinn adds with her own laughter. “You need to work outside with your shirt off more, man. Bryn, please teach him California life.”
“I figure it makes you look, and then you get to stare at all the fine muscles I’ve built,” Wyatt says, flexing both of his biceps for us to admire.
