Cedar Valley High Series #1
Zaydence Denholm is in trouble. She and her best friend are crushing on the same guy. On her part, she views this as the ultimate betrayal. This crush alongside overbearing and emotionally detached parents, and a complica...
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When Wyatt said Karolina invited both of us to hang out I was shocked. I had convinced myself they were his friends and not mine. All they did was talk about art which I wasn't into. It was their only topic of conversation, but I assumed they were leaving me out.
Karolina waited for our arrival at her front door. Her house was a small three story home with light blue with flowers painted on the side. The untrimmed grass scratched my ankles but my excitement outweighed my annoyance.
"Heyyy," I waved.
She pulled me in for a long hug. The top of her head smacked my collarbone and the sharp scent of avocado clung to her clothes. My cells danced.
I loved sharp scents. Citrus. Peppers. Certain veggies. Hot sauce.
"You're never that excited to see me," Wyatt pouted, pretending to be jealous.
"Is my little bitch jealous?" I cooed at him.
That shut him up.
I'd been testing out the nickname since that day at his house. I was still angry with him over sharing my intimate details with his friends but I decided to cut him some slack. He was high and wasn't thinking straight. The memory wasn't reliable when people were under the influence; I used that to fuel my hope that Killian, John, and Milo forgot what they heard.
She guided us along a skinny path to the back of the house, and we took a set of stairs down to the basement.
"This is the den," Karolina wrapped her arm around mine. She pointed to a table in the corner where Nolan munched on sweet potato fries and a bowl of guacamole.
"I love guacamole," I rubbed my stomach.
"Guasacaca," she corrected.
"Wa-sa-kaka," I repeated slowly.
Kakegurui and Your Lie in April posters decorated the purple walls of her den. Furnished with a futon couch bed, and an old sofa called Larry. Music played from the TV.
I put my tote bag on the floor by the futon, and sat down. Karolina presented me with a palm-sized bowl of guasacaca, and yuca fries which I assumed were sweet potato but was surely mistaken. The fries had a nutty flavor.
We took the time to catch up. The first time I met them was late in the previous school year, and I hadn't got to know them.
Wyatt excused himself to go to the bathroom.
I learned that Nolan and Karolina were both Venezuelan despite the vast differences in their physical appearances. Nolan was a pale ginger with green eyes. Karolina had an olive skin tone with dark brown eyes and wavy black hair.
They met Wyatt in art club, but what I didn't know was the overlap between artists and lgbtq+ people was thicc. Two c's not k. An important distinction.
"Which flag is that?" I motioned towards the pink and white flag near the TV, in between bites.
"Sapphic," she joined me on the futon. "You caught me! I love women!" She put a hand to her forehead as if checking her temperature. "They're so hot!"
"Mystery solved," Nolan snickered from the couch.
She threw a pillow at him. His arm cranked back and he lugged it her like it was a baseball. I picked a feather off of my lip.
Her D-cups caught the impact. I came from a long line of small breasted women. I couldn't help but think how I looked like a little boy compared to her, despite the height difference.
"Don't go in that bathroom for like an hour," Wyatt waddled towards us.
His hairline was coated in sweat.
His butt cheeks were clenched.
His face was pink.
The three of us laughed for 10 minutes.
"Karo, move." Wyatt squished his way in between us and spread his arms forcing Karolina to move to the couch.
"That's the colonizer in you," she kissed her teeth and sat on Larry.
Wyatt leaned against me, scrolling through his Bloqi feed. He shifted in discomfort. I placed my forearm over his shoulder like a crossbody purse, his prickly hair tickled my chin.
Our jumble of limbs covered the futon like tangled shoelaces. It was safe to say his love language was physical touch. Mine was split between that and words of affirmation.
"Why do I ship it?" Karolina raised her eyebrows suggestively. "Wyatt, have you ever liked Zaydence?"
Not the shipping.
Had Wyatt ever liked me like that? I hoped not.
"Was Dali a renaissance man?" He tucked himself into my arms.
Was he?
Wyatt sensed my confusion and opened his notes app. His fingers scurried across the keyboard.
❌ OF COURSE NOT
"Interesting." She rubbed her chin, as if deep in concentration, "I always thought there was something there. I mean look at you. You're like a ball of yarn."
I opened my mouth to dispel the curiosity. If I was going to be friends them, the idea of Zyatt or Wydence was to be erased.
Nolan was quick to add, "Cuddling isn't inherently romantic."
I wanted to trust that he supported the platonicness. The platonicity. Was there a word to describe the degree the extent of a friendship's platonic quality? My thoughts couldn't have been more disorganized.
His bitter tone threw me off. Did he believe the words we were saying. Did he think something was going on? Was that why he kept side-eyeing me?
Was I reading too much into that?
"Your heart is going sicko mode," Wyatt peered up at me, his eyes seconds from rolling to the back of his head. "Are they making you nervous? We can leave if you want."
I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't be the reason his escape from home got cut short. It was hard enough being around his dad and all that toxic masculinity.
To know that he would drop everything and leave because I was the slightest bit uncomfortable made me happy.
I took a deep breath.
"I'm good," I reassured myself.
I had to be.
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