Chapter Text
May, 2007
She knocks on the door to the Callow house. Her foot taps impatiently as she frets over her "date" (if she could even call it that) with the guy Haymitch set her up with. As she waits for someone to answer the door, her mind drifts back to the photobooth six months ago. At first she tried to bring it up every chance she got. But Wyatt always found a way around the conversation, changing the subject so seamlessly she barely noticed until later. By February she gave up on the idea completely. And by April, she'd nearly convinced herself that the kiss hadn't meant anything at all. Maybe he regretted it and that's why he hadn't said a word. Maybe she imagined there was something more behind that kiss. Either way, the silence between them grew heavier with every passing month. Did it hurt? Of course it did. Does she understand why he's acting like that? No, but she's trying. Finally, Wyatt's mom— Delilah, Maysilee reminds herself— opens the door with a smile.
"Hi, Maysilee," she says.
"Hi, Delilah. Is Wyatt home?"
"In his room."
"Thank you," Maysilee says, as she enters the house.
Her feet head down the carpeted hallway and she knocks once on his bedroom door before pushing it open. Wyatt's lying on his bed, a notebook on his lap and pen in hand, legs crossed at his ankle, brow furrowed in concentration. A statistics notebook lays in front of him. She grins, something warm blooming in her chest at the sight. Her crush on him always seems to flare back to life whenever he's in her proximity. She spent the last six months trying to bury those feelings after the photo booth kiss, but they never stayed buried for long, sneaking up on her whenever she let her guard down.
"Hey, pretty boy," she teases, leaning against the doorway.
Wyatt looks up, hair falling into his face, eyes wide. "Hey, Mays. What's up?"
"Not much," she lies as she steps in and shuts the door behind her. "Studying again?"
"Yeah," he says. "I wanna be prepared for my finals."
"How's college treating you?" She asks. "Meet any new girls? Or guys?" Camilla's smiling face flashes across her mind and Maysilee's nails dig into her palms.
"I'm focused on school currently," he tells her with a shake of his head. "It's a lot harder to make friends than I thought."
Relief washes over her at that, which instantly makes her feel selfish because she knows how much he wanted to make more friends. She joins him on the bed and leans against him, setting her bag on the ground. Her keychain with their photo strip glints in the warm lamp light. For a few minutes, she watches him study before her gaze drifts onto the side of his face. She allows herself to trace the planes of his face with her eyes, to wonder how he managed to get his lashes so long, all while trying to figure out a way to broach a subject that could change their friendship forever.
"Why are you staring?" He questions, not looking up.
"Because I can," she says. "Unless you don't want me to?"
"No." His face flushes. "I don't mind."
"Good." She worries her bottom lip, a burgeoning question on her mind. "Can you study on the floor?"
He lifts his head. His dark eyes meet hers and then he nods. Wyatt grabs his books and pencils and settles onto the ground next to the bed. She waits until he stops moving before she starts carding her fingers through his hair. A thrill of delight courses through her as he relaxes.
"So," she says as she crosses her legs and starts plaiting his hair. "I went on a date."
Wyatt stiffens, his hand pausing from writing. "Oh. How was it?"
"Awful." She sighs. "That's the last time I ever trust Haymitch to set me up with someone he knows."
Wyatt says nothing, but she knows he's listening.
"Anyway, he kissed me at the end of the date, right?" She scoffs as she starts on the other section. "And he's such a bad kisser! It felt like kissing a fish, Wyatt. Mind you, he said he's dated before and has had plenty of exes so you would think that he would've kissed some of them, right?"
"Right," Wyatt says quietly.
"Then he has the audacity to tell me that I don't know how to kiss and he can teach me how to," Maysilee fumes. "Like I haven't kissed people before. Okay, sure, I haven't made out with anyone really. I mean, the longest time I've kissed someone was that night I got drunk at Haymitch's birthday party and made out with Ringina for, like, a minute and she didn't complain."
He nods before clearing his throat. "I'm sure you're a good kisser, Maysilee."
She swallows. She wants to ask. "I want to be sure. I know I can kiss… I just freeze when it's someone I don't trust."
"And how do you plan to do that?" He frowns, tilting his head back to look at her. He looks genuinely confused and Maysilee feels a pang of sympathy for the bomb she's about to drop.
She's thought about this the entire ride home. She thought about asking Merrilee for tips, but she doesn't really want to hear about how Griffin kisses. Then she thought about asking Asterid, but that had been pushed firmly out of her mind by the way Burdock glared at her and Wyatt every time they were near Asterid. Neither of them felt right, and the next logical conclusion was Wyatt.
"I want to practice with you," she says. "If you're not too choosy."
Wyatt freezes, his eyes widening imperceptibly. She waits for it to fully sink in as she chews on the inside of her cheek. Her blue eyes hold his dark ones to prove to him that she's serious.
"What?" He squeaks out.
"I want to practice kissing with you," she repeats. "It's not like we haven't kissed before. And you're my best friend. And it's not like you're dating anyone and technically that guy and I aren't dating either so like we can, if you want?"
He blinks owlishly at her. Maysilee finishes the braid and leans back onto her palms. She watches as a variety of emotions flit across his face before it settles back to his usual impassive expression.
"Are you sure?" There's some hesitation coating his tone.
Maysilee nods. "I'm sure. You're the only person I trust with this, Wyatt."
"Are you really sure, Maysilee?" He presses.
Maysilee frowns, a sliver of worry cutting through her. Does he not want to? "I'm certain," she replies firmly.
"Okay," he agrees. "But, Mays, I can't promise I'm a good kisser either."
"Don't worry," she assures. "You can't possibly be as bad as him."
She pats the space on the bed next to her and Wyatt pushes himself off the floor and sits beside her. It's quiet for a moment before she cups his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek. He inhales sharply, something flashing across his eyes.
"Ready?" She murmurs, more to herself than him, but he nods anyway.
She leans in slowly, giving him every chance to pull away, but he doesn't. He just watches her, his breath hitching. The first touch of her lips is gentle, experimental. She keeps it chaste, her thumb still stroking his jaw. For a second, he's stiff and unresponsive, then he relaxes against her mouth and lets out a quiet sigh.
Encouraged, she deepens it slightly, tilting her head. This is still practice, she lies to herself. See what works. She nips at his bottom lip, a playful bite, and he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. His hands, which had been resting limply on his knees, hover over her waist before settling on her hips.
That's when it stops being a test. The idea of the awful date, of her mission to prove a point, dissolves completely. All she can think about is Wyatt— his hands resting on her hips, his mouth against hers as he slowly gains some confidence, his warmth seeping through the thin cotton of her shirt. He's following her lead, trusting her completely and the thought is so potent it makes her head spin.
She slides her hand from his jaw to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape. One of the braids she so carefully wove starts to come undone. She feels a shiver run down his spine and parts her lips and he accepts without hesitation.
The kiss changes, becoming deeper. His hands grip her hips tighter, pulling her ever closer, one hand moving to her back. She shifts, turning her body to his. She swipes her tongue against his, and his response is immediate and eager, a bit clumsy but it makes her heart ache at his earnestness. She breaks away for a moment to gasp for air, resting her forehead against his. His eyes are closed, lips swollen and pink, his chest heaving.
"Mays," he says, his voice gruff, eyes still shut.
"Shut up, Wyatt," she whispers, pulling him back in.
This kiss is more frantic, a desperate clash of teeth and tongue. Maysilee raises her other hand to hold his face. He follows her pace, one hand still tightly gripping her hip while the other presses her as close as physically possible. She tilts her head again, leaning into him more when the door opens.
"Oh my goodness!" Delilah's voice pierces through the air.
Maysilee and Wyatt jump apart, faces flushed and lips swollen. Maysilee can't look Delilah in the eye as she catches her breath. Wyatt looks down at his hands, the tips of his ears turning red. Delilah glances between the two of them, hands on her hips and eyebrows disappearing into her hairline.
"Wyatt James Callow, why I never!" The corners of Delilah's mouth quirk. "I thought it was Kennedy and Beau that I'd have to worry about. But you?" She shakes her head. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Wyatt says nothing, but Maysilee speaks up.
"Delilah," she says, the memory of Wyatt's lips still a phantom linger on her. "It was my idea. I wanted help practicing kissing."
Delilah blinks. "What?"
"Long story short: My date tonight sucked at kissing and blamed me so I asked Wyatt to help me prove I wasn't a bad kisser." Maysilee winces. She hears how insane it sounds, but in the moment it seemed pretty rational to her. "It's not his fault. He was just helping."
"Okay," Delilah says. "I believe you two. But please, if you two think of going farther, I'm sure your brothers have a supply of condoms—"
"Ma, please," Wyatt interrupts. "It's not like that."
"Yeah," Maysilee agrees, the fluttering in her stomach making her heart race. "It wasn't supposed to go that far."
Delilah eyes both of them but nods. "Okay, but for the rest of the visit, the door stays open. I don't want to be meeting a grandchild in nine months."
"Yes, ma'am," Wyatt says quickly.
She gives them one last look before leaving. As soon as she's gone, Maysilee relaxes. Wyatt drops his head into his hands and Maysilee reaches over and rubs his back. Neither of them speak or look at each other, but Maysilee's nerves are still alight, her skin tingling and a phantom warmth lingering on her lips.
"It's okay," she soothes. "She knows you're still more responsible than your brothers."
He looks up, though he still looks unsure. "Really?"
"Mmm." Maysilee gives him a small smile. "Your brothers are like wild animals. If I'm being completely honest, it's quite surprising they haven't had an accident like that." She nudges his shoulder. "Plus, you proved that I'm not a bad kisser. And you're not too shabby at it either."
"Really?" He flushes deeper, his olive skin dusted with red.
"Don't make me say it twice," she says.
He nods. "Okay."
Maysilee grins before leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, the gesture overcoming her before she can even truly think about it. Her eyes glance at the time and she sighs.
"I gotta head home," she tells Wyatt. "But we're going to the summer market on Sunday, okay? I'll be here, bright eyed and bushy tailed, at eight on the dot."
"Okay." He looks at her. "Do you need a ride home?"
"Nah, I like walking."
"I'm giving you a ride," he says. "Because I want to."
"And it has nothing to do with your mom?" She teases as they head down the hall.
"And Ma'll kill me if I don't drive you home. But I want to make sure you're safe," he says, grabbing his keys from the side table.
Maysilee waits as he slips on his shoes.
"Ma, I'm driving Maysilee home," he calls.
"Okay, be safe. Have a goodnight, dear."
"Thanks, Delilah. You too," Maysilee says before Wyatt ushers her outside.
Wyatt locks the door behind them, his ears still tinged pink. Maysilee pretends she doesn't notice. He walks her to the car, unlocking it with a shaky hand and holding the door open for her to slip in.
Maysilee buckles herself in as Wyatt climbs in and starts the engine. He lets it warm up for a moment before starting to drive. The silence in the car is palpable, the air charged with electricity.
Wyatt keeps his eyes on the road, jaw tight, fingers gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. Maysilee rests her head on the window, looking out at the blurred scenery, replaying every second of the kiss. She hadn't meant for it to go that far, to lose herself in him. She definitely hadn't planned to enjoy it as much as she did.
Streetlights pass over his face, carving soft shadows across his cheekbones. He looks so beautiful in the glow, she thinks. The thought makes her blink— she's worked so hard these past several months trying to tamp down her swelling crush on Wyatt. She's been into him for nearly two years and they've shared a few kisses, but he hasn't really given her the slightest hint that he's into her.
He clears his throat. "Sorry about Ma."
Maysilee laughs. "Wyatt, she's seen worse. Your brothers exist."
He smiles shyly. It makes her chest tighten. And she spends the rest of the ride staring at his side profile. When Wyatt pulls up in front of her house, he puts the car in park but doesn't unlock the doors right away. They sit there, suspended in a moment that is so fragile it could shatter with a heavy hand.
"Mays," he says quietly. "You're okay, right? I didn't make you uncomfortable?"
She nods. "Yeah. I'm good. It's fine, Wyatt." Her voice comes out softer than she intends.
He unlocks the door and she steps out, before turning and leaning down to look at him.
"Thanks for the ride," she says.
"Anytime."
She closes the door and walks to the porch. Maysilee turns and gives him a wave before entering and immediately peering out the window beside the door. Wyatt lingers outside for a few seconds before pulling away.
Inside, Merrilee sits on the couch, reading a book. She glances up, expectation on her face. Maysilee sighs and waits for the inevitable interrogation she's about to get as she shrugs off her jacket and slips off her shoes.
"How was the date?" Merrilee asks excitedly. "You've been gone forever. Asterid told me to keep her updated."
"Ugh," Maysilee groans.
"That's not an answer, Mays, and you know it," complains Merrilee. "Spill the beans."
"It was fine. He's a bad kisser," Maysilee answers.
"You went on a date that was boring and he was a bad kisser and you still got back this late," Merrilee repeats in disbelief. "Mays, let's be serious."
"I stopped by Wyatt's after the date," Maysilee mutters under her breath.
Merrilee's eyes go wide. "You stopped by Wyatt's after your date?" She lets out a low whistle. "Does your boyfriend know you went to your other boyfriend's place after your date?"
"First off, I'm not dating anyone," Maysilee says, holding up a finger. She raises another one. "Second off, no, he doesn't because I walked there."
"Your date let you walk home?" Merrilee gasps. "What?"
"Yeah, mind you that was after he said I was a bad kisser," Maysilee states, sinking onto the couch. "I just wanted to get the hell out of there."
"And you ended up at Wyatt's." A knowing look settles on Merrilee's face.
"I had a question to ask him," Maysilee counters. She won't tell her sister how pathetic she was.
"Sure." Merrilee closes her book. "Asterid wants to have lunch tomorrow at the Hob together, so let's do that."
"The Hob?" Maysilee rolls her eyes. "'Cause her boyfriend's there?"
"Yeah, Burdock will be there," confirms Merrilee. "But he'll be busy getting up to no good with Haymitch and Blair, I'm sure. We're going."
"Fine."
Maysilee rolls her shoulders as she listens to Merrilee chatter about the new book she's obsessed with. Asterid listens intently, while Maysilee scans the Hob, searching for the only person she really wants to see: Wyatt. She knows he sometimes works during the afternoon on the weekends.
"Maysilee, are you even listening?" Asterid questions, drawing her back into their orbit.
"Yeah, sorry. I am," Maysilee lies, flicking her gaze at her best friend and twin before looking around again.
"What's wrong with her?" asks Asterid glancing at Merrilee.
A wide grin slips onto Merrilee's face. "Someone," she says with a gleam of mischief in her eyes, "had something happen."
"What?" Asterid swivels her head between the two. "Your date?"
Maysilee doesn't reply. Merrilee's been needling her about her lack of commentary on the manner of the date and Maysilee's been struggling not to rise to the bait. But now, here with her closest friends (minus Wyatt), she can't keep it in any longer.
"I made out with Wyatt," she blurts out before covering her mouth.
Silence settles over them, their lattes and black coffee going cold in front of them. Asterid and Merrilee blink, nearly identical looks of shock and disbelief warring on their faces. Maysilee closes her eyes, wishing she'd just kept her mouth shut about it and written it in her journal to get it all out (but she knows Merrilee's nosy ass would've found it regardless of where she hid it). When she opens her eyes again, Asterid's mouth is moving but no words tumble out.
Meanwhile, Merrilee stares at her in shock before jumping up and nearly knocking her chair over. "What? You lied to me! You kissed Wyatt? You went on a date with your best friend and didn't tell me? What kind of sister are you?"
"What?" Asterid echoes. "You went on a date with Wyatt?"
Maysilee groans again before dropping her head into her hands. "No." She sighs, swallowing her pride. "The date was awful, the guy told me I couldn't kiss, so I asked Wyatt if I could practice on him to prove I wasn't a bad kisser."
"And he agreed?" Merrilee stares at her dubiously, slowly sinking into her seat again.
"He did," Maysilee confirms. "But it was just for practice."
"Practice?" Asterid's eyebrows disappear into her hairline.
Merrilee laughs and shakes her head in disbelief. "Sure it was. Are you two planning to practice again soon?"
"He doesn't like me like that," Maysilee states with a sigh.
"Yeah, but you do like him like that. Right?" questions Asterid. "I mean you've had a crush on him since you met him." She takes a sip of her vanilla latte.
"That's not true," denies Maysilee.
"Sure," Merrilee teases. "You came home after he came in the Sweet Shop with moons in your eyes."
"Ugh," Maysilee groans. "I shouldn't have told you guys."
"There's nothing wrong with liking him, Mays," soothes Asterid. "Really. We get it."
Maysilee gives them a dubious look. "Really?"
"Maybe not exactly," Asterid concedes, "but we do have boyfriends of our own. I know how I get around Burdock."
Merrilee nods empathetically and Maysilee wrinkles her nose. She's seen how those two are with their boyfriends, the constant PDA and lovesick expressions permanently etched into their faces. She shudders at the thought.
"Yeah, but…" Maysilee trails off. "Wyatt's not like Burdock or Griffin. I don't want to scare him off."
"Yeah, but you like him more than you've liked anyone else, right?" Merrilee asks, picking up her caramel latte with extra caramel. "Think about that."
And Maysilee does. She can still feel the ghost of his hands on her hips, the way he sighed in her mouth, the soft noises he made when she deepened the kiss, the way her fingers felt tangled in his hair, the way she never wanted it to end.
She leans back in the wooden chair, staring at nothing. "Oh no," she whispers.
Asterid and Merrilee share a knowing look.
Because she knows exactly how she feels about him now, how she's been feeling for years even when she tried her hardest to deny it— there's no way around it anymore. She's in love with Wyatt Callow.