Back to December

Eighteen

Every time I close my eyes, I picture the moment between Wyatt and I on the ice. The way his eyes shone under the fluorescent lighting, the way he ducked his head and smiled, his face concealed from everyone but me. The way he looked at me when we were inches apart and how he called me beautiful without an ounce of hesitation.

I can't sleep with these thoughts crowding my mind, and no matter how hard I try to push them away, he consumes my every thought.

I finally sit up, accepting the fact that as badly as I wanted to, sleep was not happening to me tonight. It's well past midnight, and I feel wide awake as if I'd just drunk an entire pot of coffee on my own and not the cup of tea that I'd had over an hour ago that was supposed to relax me. Spoiler alert, it did not. It seems to have done the opposite.

A part of me wonders if he's up too. Are thoughts running through his mind as quickly as mine are? Is he trying to piece together what each moment meant? Or is he fast asleep, unbothered by the moment? Maybe it truly was nothing, and I'm overthinking it.

It wouldn't be the first time I overthought about something.

My floor is cold, sending a shiver up my legs as I swing them off the side of the bed and onto the wooden floor. I stand, my floor creaking slightly as I walk from my room to the walk-in bathroom. I should just leave it, I think to myself as I stand outside the door connecting my room to Wyatt's. He's probably not having trouble sleeping like I am.

Despite the little voice in my head advising me not to, I knock.

"Shit," I mutter, my voice no louder than a whisper. What were you thinking, Marley? I have no valid reason for knocking on his door, not one I can say out loud anyway. I move back from his door. Maybe he didn't hear it, maybe like everyone else in the house, he's fast asleep.

Before I can back away and pretend as if my knocking on his door didn't happen, Wyatt opens it. His brown curls are a mess, flying in every which way. He's wearing the Christmas PJ pants his mom got us and a black hoodie, both of which are wrinkled from sleep. His eyes, which always have a naturally sleepy look, are more tired looking than usual, "Marles?" My old nickname slips past his lips. Wyatt's voice is deeper than normal, with a slight rasp to it. I clearly woke him up, "Is everything okay?"

He looks worried, which only makes me feel worse about knocking at his door, "yeah, no, everything is okay. I just-" I hesitate, shaking my head, "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I couldn't sleep, and I was curious if you were awake too... which was stupid."

Wyatt shakes his head, clearing his throat, "Marley, it's fine."

"No, it's not," I shake my head. I haven't felt this embarrassed in a long time, I don't know what came over me, "I'm really-"

I back away, but Wyatt stops me, cutting off my apology, "do you wanna go on a walk?"

"What?" I stutter, blinking at his abrupt question, "Like, as in right now?"

"Yeah," Wyatt nods as if it weren't an odd suggestion to make, "why not?"

"Well, for starters, it's the middle of the night," I point out, my brows furrowing together, "and it's freezing out there."

"So, we dress warm," He shrugs nonchalantly, smirking, "what do you say? You down?"

It wasn't like I was planning on sleeping tonight. Maybe a walk would do me good, "I'll meet you down there in five."

Wyatt and I share one last look before entering our rooms, shutting the doors behind us. I glance out my window before changing. I can tell by the way tree branches move that it's windy. It looks absolutely freezing out there. I throw on a long-sleeved top, placing a grey hoodie on top of it. I layer leggings under my black jeans, grabbing my warmest pair of socks to wear under my boots.