Why Me?

Chapter Thirteen

"Maybe your dad wouldn't hate me so much if I brought it up to him.." he trailed off, considering, then Iooked to me. "Speaking of, what does he do? He acts like a cop"

"He's a salesman. He sells machinery to mechanics, and those types..."I explained, looking to him. His brow was wrinkled in thought. I sighed. "But, you aren't far off. He was a soldier. Both my parents were."

Wyatt looked to me, brow wrinkling.

"Soldiers? Did they fight in any wars?" he asked. I stared at him for a second. This wasn't an odd question, but something about him asking it madeit feel different. It felt, somehow, more personal. I shrugged, looking back forward at the people walking with and around us, minding their own business, laughing, holding big shopping bags with Christmas decoration covering them.

"I actually don't know. I never thought I should ask. I mean, if they did, why would they want to talk about it?" I asked, looking to him again. He stared back for a few seconds, then nodded and looked away.

"You're right. Absolutely..." he trailed off, his eyes climbing suddenly and his body shifting. I looked forward, following his gaze to what looked like an old fashioned pub. I looked to him, but found he wasn't there. I stopped, turning, to see him stopped a bit behind me with a grin back on his face. He gestured to the building. "Behold, our next stop.

"I turned, looking up at it as a smile grew across my face. I wondered what was in store for us here. Our first site was at an intersection close to the school, and it was going well until a policer officer approached us and told us to leave. Our second stop was a park, where we sat on a cold bench and took quick pictures of runners, couples, and peoples who passed by. An officer told us to leave there to. I chuckled to myself, my eyes taking in the structure before me.

It looked like a pub from an old medieval movie, with grey hand made bricks and big windows tinted a yellow shade, iron bars winding to form the small panes. The doors were even heavy wooden with big latches. It was a tall building, but there didn't seem to be more than just a ground floor. It probably had those tall cathedral ceilings with big chandeliers.

Excited for what was in waiting, I started forward, heading for the entrance, but Wyatt didn't let me get far. He grabbed my wrist, causing me to turn to face him with a wrinkling brow and a puzzled smile frozen to my face.

"I think you should know that l'm kind of banned for life from this shop," he said, grimacing.

My jaw dropped, my brows raising, as I turned to face him.I let out an exasperated laugh, taking my hand from his and tucking some hair behind my ear before I crossed my arms, grinning at him. He shrugged, smirking a bit and glancing towards the building behind me before meeting my eyes again.

"Now, this is an interesting turn of events. What did you do? Get drunk and mouth off to someone?" I asked. He gave me a smile.

"It's not a pub, it's a coffee shop. Some hipsters turned it into a faux Starbucks. But it's a beauty, so I naturally wanted to photograph it.." he trailed off, staring to the building. I quirked a brow.
"So you're telling me you didn't go for the quirky atmosphere you oh-so belong in?" I asked sarcastically, making him give me an annoyed look. I grinned at him, and he broke his façade with a smile, chuckling, shaking his head. I smiled. "But, seriously, what happened?"

"I-um-got into a fight," he said, shrugging. My jaw dropped again, and I laughed. He blushed.

"Oh yes please!" I exclaimed as I laughed. He smiled, looking down the street away from me as he blushed more. "You started it, didn't you? I know you. I can picture you calling some hulk a buffoon and then getting your ass kicked."