Who Knew?

Chapter 4:

POV-Wyatt

I just stand there with my mouth open, completely dumbfounded. I officially have no idea what the hell is happening. There are a million or three thoughts running around in my head right now and I don't even know where to start decoading them. I don't think I have ever been more confused over life in my seventeen fucking years.

He waits slightly impatiently behind the wheel, not saying anything as he studies my face. Any words I was going to say get stuck in my throat. Right now, I would really like someone to tell me what's happening, because I don't have a damn clue.

"What?" The word comes out on it's own accord. It's pretty accurate to the sittuation though, and I couldn't have said anything better.

He rolls his eyes. "I asked if you wanted a ride. I noticed your brother wasn't here like he normally is, and I'm leaving now anyway so I thought I'd ask."

I just blink at him, making him sigh exasperatedly. "Wyatt, do you want a ride or not, becasue if you don't, I actually have a fucking life that I'd like to get back too." I feel the blood rush to my face and ears in embaressment. Why I'm embarassed, I have no idea. Please, someone tell me what's goin' on here! I think for a moment about declining his offer. Then I remember that coach had us run two miles as part of our workout, and my legs feel like jelly. I really don't want to walk the seven blocks to my house. But I'm also not sure if I want to be in the same care as Ruben Walker.

He scowles. "You have ten seconds to choose before I leave your ass here. Ten, nine, eight . . ."

He starts counting down quickly, giving me no choice but to make a split second desision. Groaning, I walk to the passenger side, and get into the car. He nods with a smirk on his face. "That's what I thought."

I study his profile as he pulls out. "You're not gonna take me to some secluded place and murder me right?"

That startles a small laugh out of him, and I can't quite take my eyes off of his face. "No, I think you're okay in that area."

"That's what a murderer would say." He says nothing, just smirks. "Why are you doing this?"

He raises an eyebrow. "What exactly am I doing?"

"I don't know," I say honestly. "Being nice to me I guess? Well, relatively. You're still a jackass."

His smirk grows into a small smile. One I don't know if I'll ever be able to get out of my head. "Yes, I know. It's part of my charming personality."

We drive a little ways in silence before he asks me for my address. I give it to him then say, "You didn't answer my question. I asked why you're being kinda nice to me today. You know, like, asking if I was okay and giving me a ride home."

He stares intently out the windsheild, as if trying to figure it out for himself. "I don't know." I can sence the truth in his words and the look on his face. He seems to be just as confused as I am on this front. It's oddly comforting.

As he parks in front of my house, a question pops into my head. "Hey, why were you at school so late. I don't really peg you as the bookclub kinda guy and I havn't seen you practicing any sports."

His face hardens slightly, and I almost cringe away. That look. The one he's sporting right now. It's a mix of emotions that I haven't seen on anyone's face before. Hurt, anger, sadness, loneliness, torture. It's a look that makes me want to pull him into my arms and just hold him until all his pain goes away. Then, he shrugs and the look is gone as quick as it came.

"You should go before someone sees you with the class creep." His eyes hold a twinge of hurt at the statement. I say nothing as I get out of the car.

I lean against the door and ask the question that's been burning on my mind since I first saw him. "Is it even true what they say? All of those crazy rumors about you? Like fucking the teachers and stuff."