Brooklyn Nights (BxB)

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Later that night, I come home alone. When the pie got delivered, while Wyatt was out of my sight and after that embarrassing moment we shared, I gave them to Melissa and she was so thankful for it. And she said that it only not made her happy, but it made Wyatt happy too. I only think that it's because his mom is happy, that's why he's happy too. I never put much thought about it, and I never plan to do so.

I lie down on my bed, sprawled, while staring at the ceiling with a heavy heart and droopy eyes. My heart is still beating painfully, pounding against my chest, and the more I will myself to calm it down, the heavier it gets. I hug the pillow tight, pulling it closer to me, and I shut my eyes.

Wyatt is inside my head, and he's been there ever since, haunting every part of my brain, and I can't do anything to stop it. He's like a storm coming my way, and I'm the idiot guy waiting for it, walking towards it with open arms – vulnerable and hopeful.

My phone rings loudly on the nightstand beside my bed, and my eyes fly open and I immediately roll over towards it to pick it up. Wyatt's name flashes across the screen, blinking brightly, and I purse my lips. He wasn't aware that I've gone home already. He might be pissed at me. I look at the flashing screen of my phone before putting it back on the nightstand, still ringing, and I just look at my phone with a heavy heart. I give a small sad smile to myself, pitying myself for being so weak when it comes to my feelings and to Wyatt. My phone stops ringing, only for it to ring again for the second time. Again, his name is flashing brightly on the screen. I just roll over the bed and hug my pillow tight, pretending that my phone isn't ringing and he isn't calling me, that I don't know any Wyatt in my life, and even though it's hurting me, I need it. I need it to save myself.

That night, I sleep crying my eyes out while Wyatt is still calling me.

"You've been crying." My mom says worriedly as she cups my cheeks in a motherly manner, one thing I've missed the most from her. She rubs her thumb across my cheek and gives me a small smile.

"I'm alright, mom." I tell her. And it's true. "Last night was just so fun and personal moments were shared and it just made me a bit sad and happy. It was a mixed feelings, really. You know how I get all emotional." I let out a chuckle.

"We raised you. We know. We just wanted to make sure."

My dad pats my shoulder and offers me a mug of hot chocolate, to which I take gladly and thank him. My mom beams as she motions for me to take a seat. She serves a plate of Hungarian sausage on the table, buttered corn, and an omelet with lots of tomatoes and onions. My dad and I love these breakfasts very much.

Dad stabs a sausage with his fork, and mom glares at him, making him put the sausage back on a plate. I suppress a laugh and dad coughs. Mom likes to put all the things needed on the table first before eating, and dad likes to break that tradition.

Once everything is placed on the table, we say a little prayer before digging in. Mom beams at me while pushing the sausages closer to my plate, and ignores dad's attempts to get some. Her priority is me, and she promised me that she'd cook me my favorite foods. I love that.

"So how was the party last night?" Mom asks me.

"Like I said, it was pretty emotional. There were a lot of things going on, and moments were shared, and it was kind of moving." I tell her honestly.

"Did she like the pie?"

"Oh, I have yet to ask her, but she was excited to dig in last night." I let out a chuckle when I remember Melissa's face lighting up as I delivered the pie to her. "I'm sure she loved it. I'll let you know once I have the news. And thank you for helping me bake that pie."