**Completed** Colby Byers and Wyatt Matheson shared an enviable love-at least, until that fateful day. Torn apart by tragedy, the stubborn ex-lovers struggle to come to terms with their desire for one another, while reconciling their feelings with t...
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Colby
"The way everybody's been staring makes me think I should've come as Mariah Carey's maternity photos," Wynn jokes, ignoring all of the prodding eyes. People have been shamelessly gossiping all week, and she's managed to keep it together through all of it.
Nearly our entire student body turns out for this night every year. A local farm bravely opens its gates, allowing us depraved delinquents to flood their property for the numerous activities they provide throughout the month of October leading up to Halloween.
"I may be your rock right now Wynn, but that's where I draw the line," I say, shuddering at the image. She chuckles as we approach the cider stand.
Wyatt has taken off on a covert mission to secure us some pumpkin donuts with Kanye and Kim, so we order a third cider for when he returns. The aromas of cinnamon and apple twist through the brisk night sky, and the copper mug I'm holding warms my palms as the tendrils of steam dance in the cool breeze.
The Harvest Festival is almost as big of a deal for North High as Prom or Homecoming. The night consists of apple picking, hayrides, a few different carnival games and, of course, dancing. A majority of the participants go all out with their costumes, and I absolutely love it. At no other time could I ever get Wyatt out in public dressed as Edward Cullen.
I still can't believe he did that for me. And, while I adore him for all the effort he put into his get-up, I have to say that Mari's costume wins hands down. The champagne glass attached to her backside sealed the deal, once again affirming that this is by far my favorite event of the year.
Well, usually, that is. This year, everywhere we walk, whispers follow. As strong as Wynn has been, I'm not sure how long she'll last. She's kept to herself throughout the week, not acknowledging comments or accusations, but I can tell she's reaching her tipping point.
"I wasn't gonna bring it up," I hesitate. "But when are you planning to tell Cole?" She casts a dark look at me, and I throw my hands up in surrender. Hot apple cider sputters onto my hand from the jostling, scalding my hand.
"I'm sorry, B," she apologizes, wincing. "I've been trying to think of the right way to tell him. Everything just... escalated."
I nod sympathetically, hating the fact that she didn't have the chance to tell him in her own time before all of our lives erupted.
"I do know two people I'm gonna have a conversation with tonight though," she continues, bitterly, and I follow her gaze.
I spot a pair of platinum heads bobbing through the mob of sweating, grinding bodies, donning costumes varying from a risqué Queen of Hearts, to a monk I spy at the far perimeter of the field. The masterminds under Wynn's scrutiny are in the old pole barn, dancing their backstabbing hearts away. The instant her eyes lock onto them, she's off like a missile.
