Page 70 of The Write Stuff

This was where we’d always been heading. How could I have missed that?

19

NINETEEN

Iwoke up to warm light filtering through a window. I always pulled the curtains in my bedroom, so I knew right away that I wasn’t home.

Then it hit me, and I had to force myself not to jerk awake. Instead, I carefully shifted enough to look down to where Wylie was curled into a ball, sleeping at my side.

Her hair was a mess. It was going to take an hour to get a brush through it. Weirdly, I wanted to be the one who brushed it.

Images from the previous evening — fervent kisses, shaking hands, soft gasps — filled my head, and I closed my eyes so I could revel in the memories. Rarely was the first time with anybody perfect. You had to get to know someone, figure out what made them tick. That took time. It had been perfect with Wylie right out of the gate, though.

She’d been more nervous than me at the beginning, and she let me set the pace. I wanted her to be the one who did that, but she was nervous, so the first 20 minutes involved a lot of “is this okay” questions that slowed things down. That turned out to be a good thing, because eventually I figured out what she liked, where she wanted to be touched, and things fell into place naturally.

She was tall and willowy and felt fragile in my arms. I wasn’t the biggest guy in the world, but I briefly worried I would crush her. She was so enthusiastic with her responses, however, that I grew comfortable with the way we fit together, which was essentially perfect. Nothing felt awkward between us. Everything felt exactly right.

Now, resting in her bed with her body pressed against mine, I knew I was in trouble. We were going to have to start figuring this out. It wasn’t just our mothers — although they were a big concern — but our friends would have to be taken into consideration as well.

They wouldn’t be surprised. I knew that already. Most of them had picked up on the vibe between us, and even though I’d been convinced it was animosity flowing between us at the start, I knew better now. They’d known, too. Especially Bree.

I didn’t realize I’d been scowling until a soft voice pulled me out of my reverie.

“Regrets already?” Wylie sounded sad.

I kept my arm around her and tucked her body firmly against mine before she could wiggle away. “No. I was just thinking about Bree.”

That had Wylie frowning, and her unhappiness was like a knife to the heart.

“Not like that.” I tickled her side and smirked when she gasped. “I was just thinking about how she’s going to react when she finds out we’re together.”

“Oh.” Wylie’s eyebrows moved up her forehead. She hadn’t worn a lot of makeup the previous evening, which was good because her face was perfect without it, but there was a bit of mascara clumped on her eyebrows. Otherwise, she looked fresh-faced and innocent. My heart grew two sizes just looking at her.

“Are we going to tell them we’re together?” she asked after a few seconds.

“I would like to hold off on doing that, for at least a week or two,” I admitted. “I’m not sure how feasible it is, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bree is a busybody. She comes by to check on Gertrude once a day. She doesn’t always come to the house, but she will sit in the gazebo with that stupid statue. She’ll know if I’m not there. Worse, she’ll know if you’re at my place.”

“How will she know if I don’t drive? I could take an Uber or something.” She was already frowning despite the suggestion. “Although that seems like a waste of money.”

“I don’t want to make obstacles,” I admitted. “I want a clear path to … you know.”

“Sex?”

I made a face. “I was talking about a relationship.” I paused a beat to consider it. “Although the sex was pretty great?”

“It was?” Her eyes went wide. “I haven’t had a lot of sex, so I wasn’t sure. It seemed pretty great.”

I cast her a sidelong look. “What do you mean that you haven’t had a lot of sex?”

She shrugged and found something interesting to look at on the wall. I kept my gaze on her. “Oh, you know.” She lifted one shoulder and tried to act nonchalant.

“Wylie.”

She didn’t look at me.