Wonderland | ✎

07 - wonderland

1 : 3 2  A M

     Landon started singing again.

    "You ran away from a fight?" Chris gaped, ignoring Landon's horrible voice in the background as he drove. "A fight that you started?"

    "I was being smart," Wyatt muttered low beside me.

     Due to our abrupt escapade, Wyatt, Landon and I were mushed against each other in the backseat, and I was right between them. I tried, as inconspicuously as I could, to shift a little bit further from Wyatt. Our shoulders and arms and thighs just kept touching whenever Chris made a turn. But I couldn't really lean into Landon, either, who was currently singing in his drunken state.

     And it didn't really help that his top was still bare.

    "Are you sure you don't have an extra T-shirt or anything?" I asked Wyatt, trying to redirect the conversation.

    "I'm sorry that I came ill-prepared for the shirtless guys I planned on bringing home," he replied smoothly, amusement layered over it.

     I blushed in the dark night. "Right."

     Wyatt chuckled.

    "Maybe," Chris replied, clicking his tongue as I failed to change the subject and not wanting to lose to him,  "or you were being a coward."

     (Help me.)

    "Chris—" I tried.

    "What would you have me do?" Wyatt suddenly snapped and I almost flinched. "Believe me, I wanted to deck that asshole in the face over and over again. But he had friends in the club. Call me a coward all you want, but when you start ganging up on one person, they're the cowards. If I stayed, I would've been the most stupidest person alive."

    "White lips, pale face, breathing in snowflakes..."

    "Wyatt's right," I said quietly, filling in the silence that just turned as sharp as a knife. "And they weren't afraid to hurt me, too."

     Chris finally shut up after that.

     I felt Wyatt shift closer to me even though all I was trying to do in that moment was to create distance between us. But when he did, the warmth of his body immediately seeped into me, and I couldn't help wanting him closer. My body turned toward his as his did the same, like it was on instinct, like we'd always be drawn to each other.

    "Did he?" he asked so lowly, his words merely a breath.

    "Did he what?"

    "Hurt you."

    "No," I whispered, unable to look into his eyes.

    Wyatt licked his lips, eyes shifting around my face. "Are you okay at least?"

    "I should be asking you." I grabbed his right hand, which looked far worst than before. The blood that I'd cleaned from his first fight bled through again, and the dark, purple bruises looked so painful. "Why are you always punching people in the face?"

     His lips twitched. "It's become an unhealthy habit."

     We're both silent again, because his words indicated the lost time we had together, and how much I didn't really know this new Wyatt.

    "Syd," his lips so achingly close, squeezing my hand in his and bringing it near his chest, "before all of this ends, I want you to know—"