Was it all a lie?

The past comes back

THE PAST (When they are 17)

Wyatt's POV:

We're sprawled out on Quinn's couch, his arm draped lazily around my shoulders as I rest my head against his chest. His fingers are in my hair, tracing absentminded circles, and the sound of the TV hums softly in the background. But all I can focus on is him—how being close to him makes everything feel lighter, simpler.

Quinn shifts a little, turning to look down at me, and there's this quiet, thoughtful look in his eyes. He bites his lip like he's mulling over something before he speaks.

"Do you think we'll always be together?" he asks, his voice soft, almost shy, like he's afraid of the answer.

I smile, not even needing to think about it. "Yeah," I say, shifting so I can look at him better. "Like peanut butter and jelly."

Quinn snorts, rolling his eyes, but I can see the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "God, you're so cheesy," he teases, shaking his head, but there's warmth in his voice, and I know he loves it.

"Hey, peanut butter and jelly are timeless," I say, laughing, giving him a playful nudge. "They just go together."

He chuckles softly, his hand stilling in my hair. "You're an idiot," he murmurs, but he leans down and kisses me anyway—soft, lingering, like he's savoring the moment. It makes my heart do that stupid thing where it skips a beat, and I wonder if he can feel it.

For a moment, everything feels perfect. Like this could last forever.

But reality pulls us back, and Quinn sighs, glancing at the clock. "I should probably get you home before your parents get home."

"Yeah," I agree reluctantly, even though I don't want this to end. I never want it to end. But I follow him out to the car, sliding into the passenger seat, and we drive in comfortable silence. It's always like that with Quinn—easy.

We pull up to my house, he turns to me with that same soft smile, and I feel the warmth of it settle in my chest. I lean in, giving him a quick kiss. "I love you," he says quietly, his eyes warm, sincere.

I feel my chest tighten, but in a good way. "I love you, too," I say, leaning in to kiss him one last time before I get out of the car. "See you tomorrow."

But the moment I step inside, the warmth evaporates.

Something's wrong.

Mom and Dad should've been at some church event tonight, but the lights are on. Mom's standing by the kitchen table, arms crossed, eyes red like she's been crying. And there's Dad—sitting at the table, staring at me with that cold, hard expression that sends a shiver down my spine.

"Mom?" My voice shakes, and my stomach turns. She doesn't answer at first only stares at me.

"Wyatt," Mom says quietly, her voice thick with something I can't place. "Come here."

I hesitate, but I step forward. My heart's racing, and my mind's scrambling, trying to figure out what's happening. "What's going on?"

Dad stands up, his face a mask of controlled rage. "We saw you with that boy—Quinn," Dad spits his name out like venom. "You're disgusting."

The floor drops out from under me. My head spins, and my body freezes.

"I—" The words die in my throat, panic crashing over me like a wave. I try to think of something to say, some way to deny it, but the look on their faces tells me it's too late. They know. They saw.

Dad slams his fist on the table, making me jump. "Don't Dare lie to us! We saw you! Kissing him."

My blood runs cold.