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Thirteen

Something smells good. It's sweet, like citrus and sandalwood, a comforting floral scent that made me take in another breath. I nearly bury my face deeper into the pillow until I feel a hand brushing against the back of my neck.

    I'm lying on a pillow. No, my head is laying on someone's shoulder, their arm wrapped around mine, while their fingers brushed against the strands of hair at the nape of my neck. I don't have to open my eyes to know it's Wyatt. I was fully awake now, aware of the position we were in. I was curled into his side, my hand resting on his chest.

    I don't remember how we got into this position. After we finished Home Alone last night, we put on the sequel and now that I think about it, I don't remember finishing the movie or what part I'd dozed off. Wyatt and I had a large gap between us during the movie, one that we closed at some point during our sleep, our arms finding their way around one another.

    I can feel Wyatt's chest moving up and down as he breathes, his breaths steady and slow. He was still asleep. I open my eyes, squinting slightly at how bright it is. We were still in the living room, where there were no curtains to block the sunlight streaming in. I look up at Wyatt, confirming he's asleep. His hair was a mess of curls stood up in all directions. His lips parted as he let out steady breaths.

     I let out a slight sigh, thankful I'd woken up before him. Things were weird right now, I don't necessarily dislike Wyatt like I did a couple of days ago when he first arrived, but that didn't mean I wanted to be close again. Especially not this close. I don't want him getting the wrong idea about this. We may be on speaking terms again, but that's it.

    So, even though I was tired and could probably fall back asleep, I slide out of Wyatt's grasp. Which causes him to stir, mumbling something I couldn't make out. I roll my eyes, standing up from the couch cushions.

    My back was stiff, sore from sleeping on the couch cushions instead of my memory foam mattress upstairs. The house was unusually quiet this morning, so I expect the kitchen to be vacant when I enter it.

    Instead, I find Harper, James and Lizzie sitting at the island, talking in quiet voices. Like me, Harper looks tired, resting her head in the palm of her hand as she sipps from a steaming cup of coffee. The rest of our family were nowhere to be found, "Look who's finally awake," Lizzie greets me, a teasing smile on her face, "good sleep?"

    "Where's everyone else?" I ignore her question, moving over to the automatic coffee maker to make myself a cup.

    "Mom, dad and Nikki took Skye and the twins to the park," Harper explains, "they didn't want the house to be too noisy and wake you two."

    I groan, I'm sure Mom and Nikki were overjoyed to find Wyatt, and I like that. Cuddling as if we chose to on purpose, "Can we just not talk about it?" I ask, sitting in the seat beside Harper, across from Lizzie and James. It was embarrassing enough that they saw us like that. The last thing I wanted was to speak about it.

    Lizzie hums as if she's considering it but shakes her head, "we want to know what happened last night? Are you guys cool again?"

    "No," I shake my head, my face scrunching up in disdain, "no way. We just watched movies. Harper was there the whole time."

    "Yeah, but I fell asleep," She reminds me, taking a swig of her coffee, "and then, I woke up to you two cuddling..."

    I laugh. They're making this a much bigger deal than it actually is, "trust me, if I had control of my actions last night, I would have slept walked upstairs and into my own bed. Far away from Wyatt."

    "Really?" James asked, unconvinced, "cause you looked so comfortable. I think you might have liked it more than you're admitting."

    "Yeah," Lizzie nods, agreeing with her husband, "you guys looked adorable."

    "No, we didn't," I shake my head, taking a sip of my coffee.

     "How would you know? You were asleep." Harper questions, the three of them ganging up on me, "we saw the two of you," She reminds me, gesturing to herself, James and Lizzie.

    "I've got a picture, wanna see," James offers, digging his phone out of the front pocket of his jeans. I rolled my eyes. Of course, he took pictures. James holds his phone out to me, letting me take it from his hand.

    Somehow, James had been able to creep over and take a picture of Wyatt and I. Much like how we were when I woke up, Wyatt had his arm wrapped around my shoulder, his fingers brushed against my neck. I had my face buried into his shoulder. My body pressed up against his. They were right. I had looked comfortable.

    "I can't believe you took pictures," I shake my head at James, "this is so creepy."

     "What's so creepy?" I flinch at the sound of Wyatt's voice, my eyes flying from the screen of James' phone and up to him. Wyatt was already looking back at me. His white t-shirt was wrinkled from sleeping, his hair still a mess.

    He doesn't smirk or make any indication that he knows what we're talking about. Instead, he looks genuinely confused, "Oh, uh," I look back at down at James' screen, swiftly pressing my finger against the delete button, "it's nothing." I slide James' phone back to him, watching as he frowns, taking note that the photo is now gone.

    "Did you sleep well, Wyatt?" Lizzie asks him as he moves over to the coffee machine behind her and James.

    I take in a breath, analyzing Wyatt's reaction to Lizzie's question. I waited for him to smirk or awkwardly fumble his words as he answered, but all Wyatt does is shrug his shoulders, placing his mug under the coffee machine, "Yeah, it was pretty good. It was surprisingly comfortable."

    James and Lizzie's eyes both widen, their brows quirked suggestively, "Is that so?" James asks. I'm so glad that neither of them is facing Wyatt at this moment, and he can't see their ridiculous grins.

    "Yeah," Wyatt confirms, moving to sit in the empty seat beside Lizzie, "best sleep I've gotten in a while, to be honest."

    I have never wanted to disappear so much in my life. It seems that Wyatt has no clue about the whole cuddling incident. If he did, I'm sure he'd be replying in an entirely different way to these questions. My siblings don't know that, though, to them, it sounds flirtatious, like Wyatt and I had something going on between us.  

     As if the universe could hear me silently praying for something, anything to break this conversation off, the front door opens, followed by Skye yelling to us, "Is everyone awake now?" She yells, "it's Christmas tomorrow, and we have a lot to do."

     "I guess we better get ready, don't wanna keep Skye waiting." I stand, taking my cup of coffee with me as I rush out of the kitchen. I walk past mom and Nikki without a word. I don't want to know what's going on in their heads right now.

    If it was anything like what my siblings are thinking, then their assumptions are wrong. Wyatt and I cuddling like that meant nothing. If I'd had control of my emotions, I never would have done that.