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Twenty-One

    The rest of the day was uneventful. Lizzie, James, Wyatt, and I played board games while Harper went to Charlies. None of them brought up our conversation from earlier again, even if they did seem doubtful of my answer to their questions. It was evening now, Skye went to bed a while ago, and I can hear the sound of my parents talking to Nikki downstairs, waiting up for Harper, who's still out.

I throw my hair out of the bun it's been up in all day, wincing at the sight. It's knotted and frizzy. The only way I'll be able to brush through it is with a handful of conditioner. I guess I'm washing my hair tonight.

I grab Pjs to change into before walking into the washroom, my fingers tugging at the knots in my hair, trying to break them slightly before washing them. I don't expect anyone to be in here, they lock on the inside, and Wyatt and I have both gotten used to locking both locks whenever we were in here. It seems he must of forgot today because as I enter the washroom, Wyatt is stepping out of the shower. A white towel wrapped around his waist.

I pause a few feet away from him, my eyes growing wide. Wyatt's hair is wet, his curls sticking to his forehead slightly. Wyatt's always been slim, but that didn't make him scrawny by any means. On the contrary, he'd grown a little bit of muscle over the years. I could see it in his arms. His stomach was more toned than it used to be too. He looked good. So good I didn't want to look away.

What are you doing, Marley? I snapped myself out of whatever trance I was under, my eyes flying up to meet Wyatt's, like mine. His eyes were wide, "Sorry, I uh guess I forgot to lock that." Wyatt chuckled awkwardly. His one hand holds his towel closed, his other tugs at his wet curls. A droplet of water lands on his shoulder, and I have to force myself to not follow it.

I avert my gaze to the ground, not daring to look at his arms or toned stomach again. I'd seen Wyatt shirtless countless times when we were teenagers. We'd go swimming all the time in the summer. This feels different, though. I feel different.

"No, it's my fault," I shake my head, my hand reaching for the door handle. I keep my gaze on the floor, avoiding his. The more I look at him, the less likely I am to look away. Had he always been this good looking? "Just uh, text me when the bathroom's free."

I exit the room before Wyatt can reply, slamming the door a little harder than I meant to. Part of me wants to call Lizzie and ask her what it all means? Why was my heart hammering so loudly in my chest over seeing Wyatt shirtless? It shouldn't be that big of a deal, but it is. I can't stop picturing the way droplets of water clung to his perfectly chiselled collar bone. Or the way his wet curls hung over his forehead.

I get a text from Wyatt not even a minute later. My phone chiming, bringing me away from my thoughts. The bathroom was all mine now. It's only a big deal if you make it one, I remind myself as I lather my hair with lavender-scented shampoo, using my fingers to brush through the knots in my hair. Wyatt seemed so chill about the whole thing. Meanwhile, I'm overanalyzing it all. I can't stop thinking about him.

I make sure both doors are locked before starting to change, sliding into a pair of lavender track pants and a black t-shirt, my hair wrapped high above my head in a teal-coloured towel. I just need some sleep. I blame these conflicting feelings about Wyatt on my siblings, who are so adamant that we are something we're not. They've got me in my head, that's all.

I go to step back into my room, unlocking both mine and Wyatt's doors when I hear something coming from his room. It sounds like he's talking to someone. I can't make out his words exactly. He's mumbling to himself.

I should just go to sleep and forget it ever happened, but Wyatt's faint whispering continues, and I can't help but feel curious. I knock on the door before I can overthink the decision, tugging my hair out of the towel, so my damp hair falls on my shoulders.